There are jobs that demand courage—not just of the body, but of the mind. Being a nurse is one such job, and sometimes, the fear doesn’t come from the diagnosis or the pain—it comes from silence, from shadows, and from the unseen.
This is a true account of a night shift I will never forget.
Festival Night. Empty Corridors. One Dead Body.
It was a festive evening in Rourkela, and most of the hospital staff had taken leave or left early. I was on duty at IGH Hospital as a male nurse. Late at night, I received the responsibility of transporting a deceased patient to the morgue—alone.
Usually, someone from the morgue team assists with the process. But that night, there was no one available. I was told a security guard would be present near the morgue to help, if needed. With no other option, I took a stretcher and began the slow, solitary walk through the long, dimly lit hospital corridor.
The Eyes in the Dark
The hallway was quieter than usual, with only the occasional bark of a dog or a distant screech of birds breaking the silence. As I approached the outdoor path leading to the morgue, a strange sensation crept up my spine—I felt like I was being followed.
I shook off the feeling, telling myself it was just fear playing tricks on me.
But then I saw them—a pair of glowing eyes in the darkness. Fixed. Unblinking. Watching me from the shadows.
I paused. “Who’s there?” I called out.
No answer. My heart pounded harder. For a moment, I thought it was a dog. Maybe a stray. I prayed it wouldn’t attack or startle me.
Just then, I saw the morgue guard standing outside the building, talking to another staff member. Relief washed over me. The eyes, whatever they were, didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Inside the Morgue
The guard greeted me casually, asked what I was doing at that hour, and handed over the keys, saying he was stepping out for tea and snacks. “Just lock up after you’re done,” he said, as if this was all routine.
I rolled the body into the morgue, carefully placed it in the freezer, and turned to leave.
Then I heard it—a knock.
It came from another freezer unit.
A single knock.
Then another.
And then a steady rhythm.
I froze. Every horror story I’d ever heard flooded my mind. My throat tightened. I couldn’t breathe. I shut the freezer door, turned off the lights, and ran through the corridor, heart hammering in my chest.
When I finally checked my phone outside, I saw the date:
Friday, the 13th.
The next morning, still shaken, I spoke to a senior hospital staff member. He gave a scientific explanation: sometimes, bodies expand or contract postmortem due to trapped gases, and this can cause limbs to move, even knock. Groans can be heard too — not supernatural, just air being released.
But no explanation could erase what I felt in that moment.
The fear was real. The knocking was real.
And sometimes, even in places built on reason and science… the dark still whispers.
Read more eerie true stories in the upcoming edition of Bhoota Gappa 3
👻 Available soon on Amazon | Hindi Edition launches 29th June
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