Monjas, Hospitales Y Fantasmas | Relatos Del Lado Oscuro Link
The old General Hospital was a labyrinth of cold tiles and echoing hallways. For Elena, a young nurse on the graveyard shift, the silence of the maternity ward was never truly silent. It hummed with the rhythmic beep of monitors and the distant, unexplained shuffling of feet.
Elena froze as the figure stopped in front of Room 402. The nun didn’t turn; she simply drifted through the heavy oak door. When Elena finally found the courage to burst into the room, it was empty of any living person. The patient was gone—transferred to ICU an hour earlier—but the ceramic cup was now full of water, cold as ice, and the faint scent of old incense lingered in the air.
That night, Elena watched the monitors from the station. At exactly 3:33 AM, the lights in the north corridor flickered and dimmed. A soft, rhythmic sound reached her ears—the distinct click-clack of heavy wooden beads against fabric. From the shadows of the old wing emerged a figure draped in a vintage nursing habit, her face obscured by the stiff white wimple.
The old General Hospital was a labyrinth of cold tiles and echoing hallways. For Elena, a young nurse on the graveyard shift, the silence of the maternity ward was never truly silent. It hummed with the rhythmic beep of monitors and the distant, unexplained shuffling of feet.
Elena froze as the figure stopped in front of Room 402. The nun didn’t turn; she simply drifted through the heavy oak door. When Elena finally found the courage to burst into the room, it was empty of any living person. The patient was gone—transferred to ICU an hour earlier—but the ceramic cup was now full of water, cold as ice, and the faint scent of old incense lingered in the air.
That night, Elena watched the monitors from the station. At exactly 3:33 AM, the lights in the north corridor flickered and dimmed. A soft, rhythmic sound reached her ears—the distinct click-clack of heavy wooden beads against fabric. From the shadows of the old wing emerged a figure draped in a vintage nursing habit, her face obscured by the stiff white wimple.
