The Night Hospital

The Janitor's Lament

In the abandoned Night Hospital, amidst its labyrinth of decrepit hallways, the story of the old janitor, Mr. Jacobs, lingered like a haunting melody. His tale was interwoven with tragedy, a dark narrative that echoed through the now-silent corridors.

Mr. Jacobs, a solitary figure, had worked in the hospital for decades. He was a silent observer, his presence barely noticed by the staff and patients. Yet, he harbored a deep affection for the children in the pediatric wing, often seen offering them small toys or sweets, a kind smile hidden beneath his grizzled beard.

One fateful evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, a fire broke out in the hospital. The cause was unknown, but its devastation was swift and merciless. Panic ensued as staff scrambled to evacuate the patients. Amidst the chaos, Mr. Jacobs thought of the children. With a heart pounding in fear and determination, he rushed towards the pediatric wing.

The flames had spread rapidly, their hungry tongues licking the walls of the children's ward. Mr. Jacobs, undeterred by the inferno, charged through the smoke, his only thought to save the young lives that were trapped. Room by room, he searched, the heat searing his lungs, the roar of the fire deafening.

He found them, huddled in a corner, their eyes wide with terror. Without a moment's hesitation, he herded them towards the exit, his years of navigating the hospital's corridors guiding them through the blinding smoke. But fate, cruel and unyielding, had other plans. A burning beam collapsed, blocking their only path to salvation.

With the flames closing in, Mr. Jacobs made a decision—a sacrifice that would etch his story into the annals of the Night Hospital's tragic history. He ushered the children into a small storage closet, sealing them in, away from the approaching fire. His final act was to give them a chance, however slim, for survival.

The firefighters found the children the next morning, scared but alive, huddled in the closet. Mr. Jacobs, however, was nowhere to be seen. It was assumed that he succumbed to the flames while trying to find another way out.

The Night Hospital was shut down after the fire for a few months, its walls scarred and blackened. But those who dare to wander its halls speak of a presence, a shadow that moves with purpose. They hear the faint echo of a janitor's keys jingling, a ghostly reminder of the sacrifice made. The children, now grown, remember Mr. Jacobs as a hero, a beacon of light in a night of unrelenting darkness.