A Shocking Evening at the Hospital: When the Morgue Attendant Arrived
In an attempt to break away from the monotony of daily duties, the chief physician of the city hospital organized a festive gathering at a luxurious restaurant. The atmosphere was lively and joyous when he casually announced an unexpected guest—the morgue attendant. This revelation sparked confusion among the staff, but also a touch of amusement. The woman had always been somewhat of an enigma, quiet and mysterious, moving in and out like a shadow. Many joked that she was more at ease with the deceased than with the living.
Just a day before the event, she found the invitation on her desk. Without uttering a word, she merely nodded in acknowledgment. No one truly believed she would attend the celebration—yet, to everyone’s surprise, she did.
That evening, the hall brimmed with excitement. Doctors, nurses, and administrators, all in high spirits, mingled, laughed, and exchanged gifts. The conversation inevitably circled back to the unusual guest. The chief physician proudly boasted about inviting “the guest from the morgue,” and anticipation mixed with playful ridicule filled the air as people awaited her appearance.
Then, close to nine o’clock, the restaurant doors slowly swung open. The music faded, voices hushed, and the entire room came to a standstill.
She appeared on the threshold—but it was not the silent attendant in an old coat everyone expected. Instead, a strikingly different woman entered. Draped in an elegant, floor-length black gown, her hair impeccably styled, her face pale and porcelain-like, with eyes chillingly icy. A faint mist seemed to follow her every step, and the air inside the hall thickened with tension.
Without a word, she glided between the tables as though invisible and stopped before the chief physician. He attempted to speak but found himself mute, his face blanching and hands trembling.
“You keep joking…” she whispered directly into his face.
His heart skipped in terror, freezing time itself.
“Not everyone returns from the other side. But I came—because you called me,” she declared firmly.
With those words, she turned and exited. The doors closed behind her just as the music resumed, but this time it was tense and strained rather than cheerful. The attendees exchanged uneasy glances; whispers erupted, and many sat frozen in fear.
From that day forward, the chief physician never hosted another party. The morgue attendant vanished as well. New staff replaced her position, and the woman was never seen again, although her signature remained in the attendance log for a week more.
Key Insight: An eerie presence lingered long after the event, transforming the hospital atmosphere.
One week later, despite the chief physician’s efforts to act normal, a growing restlessness overwhelmed him. Nightmares haunted him repeatedly: a dark morgue, echoing footsteps, and the attendant standing by the last door, calling his name.
He woke drenched in sweat, double-checking windows and locking doors, swallowing sleeping pills. But even daylight brought no relief. Occasionally, a white-coated figure flickered in window reflections or scurried across the corner of his eye.
The event’s attendees also sensed a chilling shift. Anxiety seemed to cloak the hospital; patients complained of an inexplicable coldness. In the morgue, a light flickered constantly, alarms rang without cause.
- A guard reported seeing a white figure walking toward the morgue late at night.
- When he tried to follow, the figure vanished around a corner.
- Only the morgue door stood ajar.
- The guard was discovered unconscious the next morning, his face twisted in horror.
Realizing the danger, the chief physician decided to resign, arriving early to submit his notice. Yet, on his desk lay a folder bearing a note:
“You were the one who called me.”
Trembling, he opened the folder and found documents under his name with a chilling detail: the “time of death” was set for the following day.
He vanished thereafter; no one ever saw him leave his office.
In the following days, the hospital experienced further eerie occurrences. A newly hired morgue orderly failed to report for his shift the next morning. His body was later found inside the morgue’s refrigeration chamber with no sign of injury or illness—only a haunting, almost manic grin on his face.
A young paramedic, skeptical of superstition, dared to explore the morgue’s archived visitation logs. Under a dim light in the hospital’s old wing, he discovered an entry signed succinctly:
“Anna S., attendant. 11:00 PM. Entry.”
The handwriting was neat yet archaic, as if from another era. His heart faltered when he recalled that Anna S. had died nine years earlier in a car crash and was identified solely by a distinctive skull-shaped pendant—the very same pendant worn by the mysterious woman at the party.
“I didn’t say that,” whispered the senior nurse when he recounted his discovery. “You don’t want to know. Forget it if you want to live.”
The paramedic resigned just two days later.
About forty days after the event, on a stormy evening, the chief physician was suddenly spotted near the morgue entrance—alive, yet visibly aged, his eyes harboring an unbearable silence as if he had seen a place beyond light.
Emergency services rushed him inside, but he repeatedly murmured:
“I understand now… I understand…”
After several days in the psychiatric ward, he finally spoke:
“I awoke not in my office, but in a long white corridor filled with whispers. At its end stood Anna—not angry or threatening, only gazing at me with sorrow.”
“You forgot why you became a doctor,” she said. “You mock what is sacred—life and death. I came not for vengeance but to awaken you.”
From that moment, he truly awoke—both to reality and to his own conscience.
Following his discharge, he relocated to a remote village, serving as a country doctor. He practiced medicine with newfound soulfulness, respect, and gratitude. Though silent about his past, a portrait of a young woman in a white coat always rested on his desk.
Meanwhile, the city hospital’s atmosphere lightened. The ominous shadow lifted, night shifts lost their dread, the morgue lights stopped flickering, and the strange footsteps in the empty corridors ceased.
Thus, a legend endured, one with a different message:
“If you lose sight of why you heal, someone might arrive—not to frighten but to remind and save.”
- This earned the hospital an unspoken rule.
- No one jokes about the morgue anymore.
- No attendant is ever invited to social gatherings.
- Especially avoid those who never smile and always wear an old pendant.
Ultimately, the story underscores the importance of honoring the sacred duties of those who deal daily with life and death. Sometimes, a chilling reminder is what awakens us to our true purpose.