Surgical theater

My apprehension gnawed at me like a ravenous beast as I prepared to undergo my first surgery. What intensified the dread was the stark absence of my beloved grandmother, who was relegated to a lonesome vigil on the frigid hospital's edge. As I awaited my fate, cloaked in a sterile gown, I strained to quell my anxieties.

The kind nurse had soothingly assured me that a tonsillectomy was a trifling matter, a routine procedure performed countless times with an air of simplicity. The words were a frail lifeline in the storm of my trepidation. Guided by the nurse's words, I embarked on the journey that would soon plunge me into an abyss of terror.

They wheeled me into the surgical theater, the lights above casting a cold, unfeeling glow. The anesthesiologist loomed over me, his demeanor reassuring, but his presence added to the disquiet that gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. He placed the gas mask over my nose and mouth, instructing me to count backwards from ten and to inhale deeply, with a warning that the gas might conjure odd visions and thoughts.

I obliged, the world around me dissolving into a disorienting haze. The masked figures in the room wore eerie, unsettling smiles, their expressions meant to provide solace but instead resembling sinister grins. Their surgical masks dangled beneath their chins, revealing the ominous, leering countenances beneath.

And then, in the throes of my stupor, my gaze landed upon a surreal, nightmarish vision. The surgical instruments, once objects of sterile precision, had transmuted into grotesque cutlery. Scalpels resembled gleaming butcher knives, and forceps took on the semblance of cruel, serrated forks.

As my consciousness waned, the grotesque transformation of the operating tools left an indelible mark on my psyche. The world dissolved into a turbulent abyss of confusion, and my mind became a realm of bizarre hallucinations. The last vestiges of my awareness succumbed to a dark, inescapable descent.

My ordeal began in a surgical theater, but the path that unfolded took me into realms of horror and madness, where the line between reality and nightmare blurred. The smiling faces of those who were meant to reassure became macabre masks concealing a dreadful truth—the ordeal had only just begun.

Secrets of the Underground

I awoke in a pitch-black room, disoriented and groggy. The floor beneath me was damp, and I lay there, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the complete absence of light. There were no windows, no sources of illumination to guide me. As I tried to sit up, I was abruptly stopped by a solid barrier above, causing me to smack my head against the confining surface. A feeling of panic welled up as I moved my arms, encountering nothing but the same dampness.

 

Desperation led me to attempt moving my feet, wiggling my toes, and bending my knees until they met the unyielding ceiling. I reached up, searching for any opening, but my hands met only empty air.

 

Struggling, I attempted to shift my position, trying to scoot backward, but the space was so constricted that my efforts quickly proved futile. My mind raced with questions, one of which was how much precious oxygen I had left in this cramped enclosure.

 

Finally, I managed to roll onto my stomach, though the darkness persisted, and there was still no sound to be heard. I cautiously explored my surroundings. On my left, I encountered a smooth, damp wall, while on my right, my hand brushed against an object. It felt like a bone – smooth and cold to the touch, with tiny, irregular bumps in some places. It was roughly the length of my hand.

 

In the oppressive darkness, something suddenly stirred. I strained to listen, and my heart pounded as I heard a faint scraping sound – slow and soft. My breath caught, as I was unsure if my mind was playing tricks on me. Then, I heard it again, confirming that there was indeed something in the confined space with me. The sound was not like a slithering creature but more akin to a soft object being dragged across the floor.

 

Determined to escape, I inched forward, my hands outstretched above my head to guide me. The texture of the ground beneath me began to change, no longer flat but sloping upwards. I pressed onward, the strange noises growing closer. There had to be a way out, I told myself, as I dared to hope.

 

With a concerted effort, I managed to lift myself into a crouching position. I reached my arms above my head, anticipating more space or an exit, but my hands met only empty air again. Panic and frustration gnawed at me as I realized there was nowhere left to go. A breeze wafted down from above, and I looked up to discover a small hole emitting a feeble, grayish light.

 

I cried out for help, my voice raspy and hoarse, but my pleas were met with silence. My calls persisted, growing more desperate, and the thing behind me began to quicken its approach. No longer moving slowly and softly, it now scampered toward me with an unsettling intensity. Its breath grew louder and more erratic, and I could smell its putrid stench.

 

In my frantic state, I pounded on the walls, screaming for assistance. Dust rained down over me, and the sounds outside remained elusive. There was nothing but the wind, and no sign of any human presence. As I continued to shout for help, I felt a presence at my feet, and sheer terror gripped me as I felt it begin to climb.

 

It had claws, sharp as a cat's, and its touch sent shivers down my spine. The creature was freezing cold, and I could hardly bring myself to look at it. Stringy hair dangled from its grotesque head, and its eyes were large, black orbs, seemingly even darker than the surrounding darkness. It was about the size of a medium teddy bear, its breath hot and fetid, carrying the stench of death and the unnatural.

 

The creature fixed its gaze upon me, and I let out a scream of pure horror. In a terrifying instant, it lunged for my throat, and my world once again descended into an inky black abyss.

Don’t let me die

 

In the dimly lit hospital room, the nurse stood, her heart heavy with a truth she had yet to reveal. The patient, a man whose fragile existence was tethered to an array of life-support machines, suffered from a myriad of ailments that danced on the precipice of death. Each breath he took seemed like a fragile thread of existence, one that could snap at any moment. His pale skin clung to his frail frame, and his eyes, haunted by the specter of death, darted about the room.

 

But the man was no ordinary patient, for he harbored a visceral, unrelenting terror of death. He'd demand his life be preserved at any cost, raging at the nurses as if they held the keys to his very soul. "Don't let me die! Don't let me die!" he'd scream, his voice a desperate wail that filled the sterile hospital corridors.

 

As the nights turned into weeks, the nursing staff grew increasingly curious about the origins of this dread that consumed him. What was it that kept him clinging so fervently to life? The answer came with a chilling clarity, as one fateful night, the man's condition took a sudden, ominous turn for the worse.

 

The nurse, alerted by the frantic beeping of the heart monitor, rushed to his bedside, clutching emergency supplies and a racing heart. What she saw next, however, was something she couldn't have prepared for.

 

The man was no longer lying on the hospital bed; he was hovering about two inches above it, an eerie grin etched across his face. His eyes, once tormented, now gleamed with an unsettling malevolence. He laughed, a sound so haunting it sent shivers down the spines of the medical team. "You stupid bitches aren't going to let me die, are you?" he sneered.

 

Before anyone could respond, the man's body contorted in agony, and he went into cardiac arrest. Twenty harrowing minutes later, his life finally ebbed away.

 

Yet, the true terror had only just begun. A doctor pronounced the man dead, and the room seemed to sink into an unsettling silence. Suddenly, as if spurred by an unseen force, the newly-deceased man sat upright in his bed and started to laugh, an unholy mirth dancing in his eyes. "You let him die. Too bad," he taunted.

 

What occurred next defied all reason and science. A spine-chilling scream pierced the room, an agonized wail that seemed to emanate from the depths of despair. Then, in a hushed whisper, the words "don't let me die" echoed throughout the unit, a spectral chant that sent a shiver down the spine of every nurse present.

 

The hospital's staff was paralyzed with fear, their faces drained of color. No one dared to venture anywhere alone, as the hospital's corridors seemed to hide malevolent secrets. But by morning, the chilling whispers of "don't let me die" had vanished, leaving behind an eerie, unexplainable silence.

 

The tale of the man who laughed in the face of death and his haunting presence would forever linger in the minds of those who had witnessed it, a macabre reminder that there are realms of existence beyond our comprehension, where the line between life and death blurs into something profoundly unsettling.

Reflection

 

Throughout the annals of history, a plethora of myths and superstitions have sprouted from the enigmatic world of mirrors and reflections. One of the most ubiquitous superstitions we've all encountered pertains to the ominous consequences of breaking a mirror – a seemingly innocent act believed to bestow seven years of ill fortune upon the careless transgressor. Yet, perhaps even more disconcerting is the profound connection ascribed to mirrors in relation to the human soul.

 

The prevailing notion is that mirrors, by virtue of their ability to capture one's reflection, also possess a fragment of one's essence. In certain cultures, it is believed that mirrors can even reflect the presence of an individual's very soul.

 

Undoubtedly, these deeply entrenched beliefs have given rise to an assortment of superstitions and customs. Some of these convictions likely originated in a time when mirrors were scarce and of subpar quality, particularly in the pre-industrial era of Kurseong, West Bengal, where they often produced grossly distorted images. In fact, numerous cultures hold that the reflection in a mirror mirrors an alternate world or dimension, serving as a portal to the spirit realm. In this realm, the natural order is inverted; darkness becomes light, good is transmuted into evil, and day morphs into night, creating a topsy-turvy reflection of our reality.

 

Not surprisingly, it is posited that souls residing in this alternate realm seek to return to our dimension, exploiting the reflection in a mirror as a gateway.

 

Traditionally in Kurseong, it is customary to turn mirrors to face the wall upon the passing of a household member. The belief is that if the departing spirit catches sight of its own reflection, it may choose to reanimate the body. In certain regions of Kurseong, this practice extends to the act of emptying all water containers, as the liquid's reflective property is thought to provide a medium through which the disembodied soul can find its way back. Romania takes this notion a step further, where all water containers are covered at night, under the belief that spirits roam during those hours and could inadvertently drown in water. In alignment with the philosophy of wandering spirits, Romanians also hold the belief that opening doors and windows at the moment of a loved one's demise facilitates the spirit's passage from this world to the next.

 

In stark contrast, the inhabitants of Macedonia deliberately place containers of water at gravesides, aiming to ensnare any malevolent spirits that may lurk within, thereby averting nocturnal torments.

 

All these myths collectively contribute to the idea that water and malevolence are an incompatible mix, which may partially explain the water-defeating fate of the wicked witch in "The Wizard of Oz."

 

Yet, apprehensions surrounding reflections were not confined to water and mirrors alone. Eyes were also regarded as vessels capable of trapping souls through their reflective qualities, leading to the practice of averting one's gaze from the deceased. It was believed that the visage of death reflected in the eyes of a corpse could be transmitted to onlookers, sealing their fate with an inexorable and imminent demise.

  

The Consequences of Midnight

                                         


  It all started when I met my first husband, I was only 18 years old and strange things began to happen as soon as he entered my life. I always had a feeling of someone watching over me, but it wasn't until we became engaged when I was 19 where I first saw what I can only describe as a ghost.

It was a Monday morning, very early about 1 in the morning and I heard a whisper of "don't trust him, please don't trust him", I put this down to being in a sleepy state and ignored it. At exactly 3:00 that same night I woke to a man at the end of my bed just watching me, he had no face and I couldn't make out anything apart from that the figure was that of a man, it was just a black figure.

Needless to say I ran out the room terrified into my parent's bedroom who both described me as being "incredibly pale and looking fearful". After this I refused point blank to move back into my bedroom, I moved into my little sisters bedroom who I shared with, and then roughly 2 months later, again at 3:00 on a Monday morning I was awoken to the same figure walking around my little sisters bed while she slept just watching her, as I darted up he just vanished.

After discovering that no matter where I slept it appeared this would still happen I moved back into my bedroom, again on a Monday morning at 3:00 I was awoken with the man whispering "watch him, be careful just watch him". During that month a smell of what I can only describe as drainage and death appeared in my bedroom, literally just in my bedroom, as soon as you went past the doorway when leaving the room the smell would vanish, we called out the plumbers who cleared all the pipes running through my room but insisted that all pipes were clear, the smell lasted a week and then just faded away.

I then married my partner and moved into a house a street away from my parents, turns out my husband wasn't such a nice man, he cheated on me constantly and after a year we got into a fight which resulted in me being strangled and getting a broken finger. I left my husband and remained in our house on my own for 6 months, during my time in the house I found a young girl in a long white night dress playing hide and seek with my living room door.

She appeared every time I had a low day and thought about trying again with my husband. I never did, I moved back in with my parents. During my time in the bad marriage my mum hired a medium who described our family so well; my father’s job, my brothers personality everything, so my mum questioned here about someone being un the house but she said there was no man, just a naughty young boy who was harmless.

Little did I know but my Nan in the Dover Lane had also been to see a Medium. It was a group session and my Nan was picked out from the crowd with the lady stating "you have a grandchild who can see things, she has a gift but doesn't know how to use it yet" my Nan has over 40 grand children but she insists it’s me that she was told about.

I am now married again to a wonderful man, but as most people he has a history and comes with an ex wife and a daughter, I get on incredibly well with my step daughter but sadly my husband and myself have problems with his ex wife. I let things bother me and upset me, and when things get too much for me I wake in the night with what feels like a reassuring hand on my head.

Sadly I also have feelings of being attacked in my sleep, once it was a brutal attack, I myself wasn't moving, I woke in the same spot as I fell asleep, but I really felt like I had been attacked I was covered in sweat and was very scared. I have also had the feeling if someone pulling at my feet while I sleep... This always occurs when my husband is away working.

I also had a dream about 6 months ago of 3 people arguing saying "she's not ready yet" over and over again.

Basically I would like to know... What on earth is happening to me? Has someone been warning me? Or is someone tormenting me?

14th Feb

                                                         

 A doctor rushed into the hospital after receiving an urgent call for surgery. Swiftly changing into his scrubs, he headed straight to the surgery block, where he encountered the anxious father of the boy awaiting treatment. The father, visibly distraught and agitated, confronted the doctor as soon as he appeared.

"Why did you take so long to come?" the father demanded, his voice edged with frustration. "My son's life is in danger! Don't you have any sense of responsibility? Were you too busy with Valentine's Day plans to care?"

The doctor maintained his composure, offering a reassuring smile despite the father's accusations. "I apologize for any delay, sir. I rushed here as soon as I received the call. Please try to remain calm so I can focus on my work."

"Calm down? If your own son were in this room, would you be calm?" the father shot back angrily. "What if he dies waiting for you?"

The doctor's smile softened his voice gentle yet firm. "We will do our best, and let us pray for your son's recovery."

"Giving advice is easy when you're not the one in pain," the father muttered under his breath.

The surgery commenced, consuming several tense hours. When the doctor emerged, his face lit up with relief. "Thank goodness! Your son has pulled through," he announced. Without lingering for the father's response, he hurried off, instructing him to consult the nurse for any further details.

"Why is he so arrogant? Couldn't he spare a few minutes to update me on my son's condition?" the father remarked to the nurse who appeared shortly after the doctor had left.

Tears welled in the nurse's eyes as she responded quietly, "His own son passed away yesterday in a tragic accident. He was on his way to the burial when we urgently called him in for your son's surgery. He saved your son's life and immediately rushed back to complete his son's burial."

The father stood in stunned silence, suddenly comprehending the doctor's demeanor and the weight of the burden he carried. In that moment, the doctor's actions spoke louder than any words could convey—of dedication, compassion, and a heart that continued to heal despite personal tragedy.

As the truth sank in, the father's anger melted into gratitude and empathy. He realized that beyond the doctor's professional responsibilities, there was a human being grappling with his own profound loss, yet still striving to save lives with unwavering dedication.

Mutation

Breathing heavily, my eyes begin to burn. I start to freeze from my toes to the top of my head. Inside feels cold and broken as if I was dead. I get the eager to have a taste of blood. The thought rolls in my mind for a few minutes. Hunger builds up inside, before I get the chance to move I fall to the ground. My eye site is gone.

I open my eyes and see nothing but darkness around me. I get up slowly, my body is very weak. I start to smell something that makes me want to go after it. So I run towards the smell like I was hunting for food. I reach where the smell was coming from, my eyes become wide. My fane’s grow, and I bit down on the animal that I had been after. The taste of blood flows through my body. Soon as I am full, I get a boost of energy as if I had been reborn.

I wipe the blood off my face. My eyes go back to normal and my fane’s go back to their normal size. I look down on the ground at the animal. It was tore into pieces. My eyes begin to water as if I was crying. I think to myself ‘what have I done, who am I, or what have I become?’ those questions roll in my mind for a few minutes.

When my eyes dry, and my body calms down. I run home, and hop into the shower. I wash the blood off my skin. I look down and watch the dark blood drain down. I sit down and cry while the water is still running. I picture the animal that I had killed, and it keeps repeating in my mind over and over.

Spectral or Ghost?

Spectral or Ghost?

In the realm where the tangible meets the intangible, individuals like Rick, Sina, and Niron bridge the gap between the living and the spirit world. These individuals, who identify as paranormal investigators, share unique perspectives shaped by their personal experiences and beliefs.

Rick: The Psychic Investigator

Rick, aged 34, leads a dual life as both an investigator and a mediator between homeowners and the spirit world. Claiming to possess the ability to see and hear spirits, Rick traces his supernatural journey back to his childhood, where he initially sensed emotions and eventually gained the ability to perceive spirits through what he describes as his mind's eye. For Rick, this gift is not merely a curiosity but a calling—a purpose to elucidate the enigmatic realm beyond our everyday perception.

In his own words, "Not everyone believes in ghosts, spirits, and the paranormal. But are there strange goings-on in your home that you sometimes can’t explain? One possible conclusion could be that it’s haunted." Rick’s approach blends a pragmatic consideration of paranormal activity with a profound belief in the existence of an unseen world.

Sina: Embracing Spiritual Guidance

Sina, another investigator in this eclectic field, invokes divine protection in her quest. She professes a reliance on prayer, seeking angelic intervention to safeguard her team during investigations. Her narrative intertwines elements of chance and destiny, suggesting that while she stumbled into paranormal investigating, she ultimately feels chosen for this role by a higher power. This perspective underscores her spiritual orientation towards the work, framing it as a sacred duty rather than a mere vocation.

Niron: Finding Purpose in Investigation

Niron’s involvement in paranormal investigation contrasts with Rick and Sina’s spiritual grounding. Unlike them, he does not claim sensitivity to spirits but instead views his role as an investigator as a serendipitous turn of events that imbued his life with newfound purpose. Reflecting on his entry into the field, Niron muses, "It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me." His perspective highlights the transformative potential of engaging with the unknown, providing him with a sense of direction and significance he had previously lacked.

Common Threads in Uncommon Pursuits

Despite their differing perspectives and motivations, Rick, Sina, and Niron converge on several fundamental aspects of paranormal investigation. They each bring a unique lens to their work, whether rooted in psychic sensitivity, spiritual devotion, or a quest for personal fulfillment. Their shared experiences reveal a spectrum of encounters—from eerie sensations and unexplained phenomena to profound spiritual connections—that defy conventional explanation.

Conclusion

As these investigators continue to navigate the mysterious terrain between the known and the unknown, their stories offer glimpses into a world where the boundaries of reality are blurred. Whether one sees it as a calling, a stroke of luck, or a gift, the pursuit of understanding the paranormal serves as a testament to human curiosity and the enduring quest to unravel life’s deepest mysteries.

The Red Wristband

When you are admitted to a hospital, they place on your wrist a white wristband with your name on it. But there are other different colored wristbands which symbolize other things. The red wristbands are placed on dead people.

There was one surgeon who worked on night shift in a school hospital. He had just finished an operation and was on his way down to the basement. He entered the elevator and there was just one other person there. He casually chatted with the woman while the elevator descended. When the elevator door opened, another woman was about to enter when the doctor slammed the close button and punched the button to the highest floor. Surprised, the woman reprimanded the doctor for being rude and asked why he did not let the other woman in.

The doctor said, “That was the woman I just operated on. She died while I was doing the operation. Didn’t you see the red wristband she was wearing?”

The woman smiled, raised her arm, and said, “Something like this?”

Black Tears

                                      

This happened when I was into my second year of Medical School. Usually we had to stay back in the hospitals either to assist the seniors or work over our cases. Let me confess that I, being the first doctor in our family, was never used to seeing so much of blood, pain & death lying around - not to mention the nauseous smell of the medicines & chemicals. Most of my first year went into crying for home, puking during practical and crying more...

It was in the month of August that I and my classmate Sheena stayed back in the morgue to complete our case studies. Just the same morning, a critical case had arrived in the hospital wherein a woman of 29 was badly hit by a speeding car. The woman breathed her last about an hour after being admitted to the ICU. Her family, including her parents, her two daughters and her relatives were mourning endlessly. Apparently, the woman was a widow - her daughters were crying dreadfully, kneeling before their mother's dead body. Me and Sheena were horrified watching the total chaos.

It was around 9 pm and we were working over an teenage accident case. Suddenly, we realized that the dead widow was lying just two bodies away. We were overcome with whist of fear and depression, especially because we had seen that very woman pass away this morning. We started talking about what would happen to her little daughters and her parents.

All of a sudden, Sheena shrieked and pointed out horrifyingly at the woman. I turned around and saw that black tears were trickling down the dead woman's eyes. I was shocked for a moment but then I thought this might be some kind of biological reaction (something like rigor mortis. I told Sheena to calm down - I told her this might be some kind of after-death reaction and we should note it down so that we can ask our professors about it. This calmed Sheena for a while.

However, after 5 mins, we could hear distinct noises - more of moans coming out of the woman's body. Tears continued to trickle down. It was as if the woman was either alive somewhere and moaning or she dead and repenting it. Either ways, I and Sheena were scared and ran out to call for help. Our seniors came inside and checked the body. Surprisingly, there were no moans - the body was lying as cold as ever.

Today, even after 5 years, we still have this memory fresh in our mind.