Thread by @TheRealDoctorT

Some hospitals are new buildings, sparkling glass and shining steel, climbing skywards with endless ambition.

Some hospitals are like ancient trees, weathered and bowing under the weight of their history, with deep and powerful roots.

All hospitals have a past... 1/

This story begins with me in the middle of an elective in New York.

I’m at one of those ancient hospitals that has grown in spurts, with additions and renovations over the years that have turned it into an architectural Frankenstein’s monster.

I get lost in it. Frequently. 2/

One night, after a particularly grueling shift, I’m trying to find the employee cafeteria.

A gruff security guard mumbles, “Basement.”

I realize afterwards that this massive hospital likely has many basements, but I decide to just try the building I’m in.

I head downstairs. 3/

The first thing I notice is the smell. The faintest hint of something both sweet and sickening at the same time.

Something rotting.

It causes a brief wave of nausea, but then passes. I breathe deeply and can’t smell anything out of the ordinary anymore.

Strange. 4/

The basement seems to be an older part of the building. The ceilings are low, almost claustrophobically so. The lighting is dim, and tinted a sickly yellow. The corridors are long and dark.

There are no signs directing me anywhere.

I pick a direction and start walking. 5/

After a few minutes of picking random corridors I realize I am hopelessly lost.

I also realize how deserted this place is.

I feel the first cold pangs of fear, almost panicky. But I tell myself to relax. I have my cell phone.

I’m 6’2, and solidly built.

Relax, man. 6/

Feeling sheepish, I fish my phone out of my pocket. Great, no reception.

I exhale deeply, deciding to retrace my steps as best I can.

Then I see him.

A thin figure, seemingly materializing out of thin air in the darkness at the end of a distant hallway.

I yell, and wave. 7/

He seems to look right at me, then turns and walks around a corner.

Not wanting to lose the first person I’ve seen down here, I run after him.

I turn the corner and... nothing.

No sign of him.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise. What the hell?

Again, I see him. 8/

Again, I run after him, down another corridor. This time he stands still.

This time he’s waiting for me.

As I get closer, I suddenly get another whiff of that strange scent. Rotting. Another wave of revulsion washes over me, and then subsides.

He stands still. “Hello.” 9/

His voice is faint, far away. He’s pale, a young man wearing a white coat. I don’t see a stethoscope, or an ID badge. He holds his left arm close to his side.

I smile warmly, grateful for another presence. “Am I glad to see you! Do you work here? I am SO lost.” 10/

I offer him a handshake but he doesn’t take my hand. Instead he looks at me blankly. “Yes... I work here. Dr. Cooper.”

“Nice to meet you! I’m Sayed.” I show him my ID tag and he regards it with interest, “Taba.... tabai. Are you Dutch?”

I laugh. “Not quite.” 11/

He starts walking abruptly and I assume he’s showing me the way out so I follow him.

His steps are measured, and he has a strange habit of tapping his heels once or twice every now and then.

We walk in silence, the only sound is the occasional click-click of his shoes. 12/

Trying to be pleasant, I finally break the silence, “What are you doing down here?”

He turns to look at me, and I’m struck by the sadness in his eyes. “I’m the house doctor. It has been a very long night...”

I feel a twinge of sorrow for this strangely wan young man. 13/

One of the side-effects of being a black cloud, like me, is that you begin to sense the same misfortune in others.

Dr. Cooper has been a black cloud for a very long time.

I tell him I’ve had a long shift myself, and ask him if he wants to talk.

He nods slowly, and speaks. 14/

“I made a mistake, friend. I cut when I should have waited. I introduced pestilence, and the wound festers. Not even Dr. Lister could help. My patient will not last the night.”

I’m quietly stunned at his bleak bluntness, and find myself speechless.

He exhales deeply. 15/

We walk on together in silence until we reach a doorway, and I see that it’s the stairwell I came down initially.

I tell him I’m sorry for what happened, that it isn’t his fault, it happens.

The words spill out of me in a rush because I’m so relieved to see an exit. 16/

Before I leave, I notice he’s still holding his left arm against his torso. I ask him what’s wrong.

He tells me he accidentally cut himself with his scalpel, and the wound has become infected.

He peels back his sleeve and removes a makeshift bandage.

My heart sinks. 17/

The wound is angry, deep. Red streaking is turning to black, and green. The stench is overwhelming. Rotting flesh.

I gasp. “Cooper, we have to get you upstairs to the ER, now!”

He staggers backward, and slumps against the wall, seemingly exhausted. “No. I cannot go.” 18/

I tell him I’m going to get some help.

Before I leave he suddenly lunges towards me and grabs the edges of my collar.

Bringing his face close to mine he gasps, “Promise me you’ll return! Promises made, promises kept!”

The stench of his wound makes my eyes water. 19/

I promise him, and I wrench myself free and sprint up the stairs.

The first floor is well-lit, clean. I breathe deeply, heart pounding.

The same gruff security guard is there. I don’t like the look in his eyes.

Like he knows a terrible secret.

I ask him for help. 20/

He smiles, a chilling grin that sends shivers down my spine. “The basement here has been closed for decades, doc. Cafeteria was in building J, other side of the hospital. There’s nobody downstairs.”

I feel dizzy.

Going back downstairs I find a locked door. And darkness. ?/

The guard comes down after me and opens the lock at my insistence. Inside everything is pitch black, and covered in dust.

No lights.

No doctor Cooper.

The guard’s smile widens, and he asks me a question that makes my blood run cold.

“Doc, make any promises to anyone?” ?/

In that moment, I realize the guard’s left arm is a prosthetic. He sees me look at it, and laughs.

It is a terrifying laugh, hideous, laced with madness. His voice suddenly rises to a near scream.

“Promises made, promises kept, doc! PROMISES MADE, PROMISES K-“

I run. ?/

I get home.

I research. Now.

Apparently Dr. Cooper was a surgeon who practiced at the hospital, a century ago. He died from a gangrenous wound.

He was trapped in the hospital during a blizzard.

His colleagues promised help, but left him alone, to die.

He still remembers.

I need you to know what’s happening.

Am I losing my mind?

I can hear something clicking in the hallway.

I can smell something.

Rotting.

I said I’d get help, I promised.

My left arm is burning with pain, I can’t describe.

Someone is at the door now.

Oh no..

Promises made-

(I know it isn’t Halloween yet. Just wanted to try a different genre.)

(And I think a gangrenous wound that lingers, while getting lost in a labyrinthine hospital, might be a metaphor... but anyways, it’s fun to try different things now and then.)

(Boo!)