My name is Babar Ali, I live in Garden Street, London, UK. I work as a detective; most people might think that being a detective is quite exciting and fun, and to that I say no. Being a detective is quite dull work. Solving irrelevant mysteries, and you don’t even get any mysteries half the time. But let me tell you of the time how I attempted to tackled the mystery of ‘The Hospital’. Yes, I was part of the research group that was determined to find out once and for all, what in the world was going on in the hospital in the nearby woods. I’m Babar Ali and this is my story of adventure and mystery.
*~*
It was a cold November, I had just woken up, I checked the time – 6:30 – late again. I lazily got off my bed, I went to the bathroom to clean myself. I washed my face and looked in the mirror, a tall, thin man with blue eyes, brown hair and black beard looked back at me. I had breakfast (a nicely fried omelet and toast), I offered my prayers, put on my brown coat and hat and went out into the misty dawn.
*~*
Five minutes later, I reach a building. It was a three-story building made of brick and yellow of paint. If you’ve ever seen an early 1900s building, try to imagine that.
I entered and took the stairs to the third floor.
I reached my office. I took off my coat and hat, put it on the hanger and looked around. The office hadn’t changed ever since I bought the small apartment. A brown wooden floor, green wallpaper with flower patterns and a grey ceiling. As for the furniture, in front of me was a brown desk with various items on it: scissors, pencils pens, a fish bowl, you name it. A lamp behind me, a clock in the right wall, and that was pretty much it.
Mary was the old lady’s name whom I bought the apartment from. Sold it cheap, only six hundred thousand pounds. She kept on telling me to keep the old thing safe and tidy for the previous owner was her husband and due to some financial issues, she was forced to sell the apartment.
After sitting on my chair, I started reading the latest newspaper. I leafed through the usual: advertisements, offers of employment at the local bakery, a criminal arrested, the usual. Then, my eye caught the headline on the fifth page:
Mysterious voices in London heard once again!
On the November of 15th, more cases of the howling and other voices at the local forest of Garden Street. Already, two ear-witnesses of the occurrence have been met with and interviewed. One of them was an old lady our interviewer, John Franklin talked to.
“How would you describe the voices you heard Mrs. Emily?” John had asked.
“The most horrible voices I have heard my entire seventy years of living,” replied Emily. “They were like the scraping of rusted metal on a sharpening stone and the cries of hundreds of people that were silenced instantly.”
The other was a younger man, around his thirties that Samuel Percy talked to.
“Oh, let me tell you, they were something out of this world!” he had said. “Imagine Lucifer himself had possessed you and the pope came to you to expel him. The battle of titans, that’s what those voices sounded like.”
Now, the British government has prepared a team of the most skillful soldiers that would go into the woods and search what was the source of the voice. A few experts say it might have been a stray animal wandering there or some other reasonable explanation. Some have flat out refused to accept that there are any voices since there have been no sign of human life there. But what will the forces discover, only time will tell…
I threw the newspaper on my desk. For months these ‘voices’ were being heard. I as well had heard them on more than one occasion, but I think it’s all nonsense and they might have mistaken the voices for some animals because – as it said on the paper – no human life has been recorded there, only an abandoned hospital, but I doubt if anyone would want to go there.
As I sat there, wondering about the situation, the door opened. At least five people in brown uniforms with patterns helpful in case of camouflage and dark brown trousers entered the office; they were British soldiers. An aging man, no more than sixty-years-old with a brown coat, grey cap and scarf was leading the party. He sat down a chair while the soldiers stood motionless behind the man.
“My name is Jack Noel,” The old man said, addressing himself. “Lieutenant of the British forces.”
“Can I help you?” I asked him, taken a bit aback because of this sudden entry.
“Yes,” He answered “I need help with a mystery.”
“Well, what is the mystery?” I asked, gaining my composure.
“We need your help in researching the old hospital in the woods.” Said Jack.
“The hospital?” I asked, a little surprised. “Why in the world would you want to go there? It’s abandoned after all.”
“I am well aware of that, Mr. Ali but, as you might have read, voices have been reported there, and the government wants to send a research party of highly trained men.”
“So, what does that have to do with me?” I asked.
“You are good at finding reasons for things.” replied Jack “We need you to find clues and help us get to the bottom of this mystery.”
“Well, maybe I could agree to that.” Said I.
“So,” said Jack, extending a hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“That depends on how much you are willing pay me for this.”
“How about … two thousand pounds?”
“That is a little more than I hoped for, but we have a deal nonetheless.” I said, shaking his hand.
“Good” said Jack, pulling his arm away “I’ll meet you besides the woods at around 12:00 PM.”
That being said, Jack left the room with the agents following. What is the government up to? I asked myself. Just a waste of time and money this operation is.
YOU ARE READING
The Patient
HororI was a detective, yet I wouldn't have even guessed what awaited me in the hospital that rested a broken soul.
