The ward was quiet, almost eerily so, as night fell. The only sounds were the soft hum of machines and the occasional shuffle of footsteps from nurses making their rounds. Outside, a heavy downpour hammered against the windows, the rain blurring the city lights into streaks of gold and white. Lightning flashed every few minutes, lighting up the darkened corners of the ward, followed by the deep rumble of thunder that seemed to vibrate through the building.
He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The brightness that had overwhelmed him earlier had dulled, replaced by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. His vision still wavered, objects shifting in and out of focus, but it was better than the suffocating darkness he had lived with before. The distant patter of rain should have been comforting, but unease settled over him like a heavy blanket.
Something felt… off.
He shifted slightly, wincing as his stiff body protested. Just as he was about to close his eyes, he noticed it—a shadow flickering in the corner of his vision. At first, he thought it was the lightning playing tricks on his eyes. He blinked, turning his head toward the source. The shadow was still there, faint but unmistakable, hovering near the far end of the room.
He froze, his breath hitching. Just your imagination, he told himself. You’re tired, it’s the surgery.
But as he watched, the shadow began to move. It slid closer, almost imperceptibly at first, but then faster, growing sharper, more defined with each flash of lightning. It wasn’t just a trick of the light. His heart pounded in his chest as the figure seemed to solidify, its form indistinct but undeniably human.
He gripped the edge of his blanket, his knuckles white. Every instinct told him to call out, to press the call button for the nurse, but his voice felt stuck in his throat. The shadow moved closer still, stopping at the foot of his bed.
In the dim light, he could make out the vague contours of a face—a pale oval framed by darkness. Its presence was suffocating, the air in the room suddenly thick. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came.
Lightning struck again, illuminating the room in a brilliant flash. For a split second, he saw it clearly: a figure standing there, its eyes staring directly into his. But they weren’t eyes—just empty, hollow voids that seemed to pull him in.
A clap of thunder followed, shaking the walls. When the light dimmed, the shadow was gone.
He gasped, sucking in air as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time. His hand shot out to press the call button, his body trembling. Moments later, a nurse entered, her face calm but concerned.
“Are you all right?” she asked, glancing at the monitors.
He hesitated, looking around the room. The corner was empty, just shadows cast by the rain-streaked window. The air felt lighter now, less oppressive.
“I… I thought I saw something,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
The nurse offered a gentle smile. “It’s probably the medication,” she said, adjusting his IV. “It can sometimes cause vivid dreams or hallucinations. Try to rest. You’re safe here.”
He nodded faintly, though her words did little to ease the tension in his chest. As she left the room, he stared at the corner where the shadow had been, his thoughts racing.
Was it just the medication? Or something else?
The storm raged on outside, lightning illuminating the room in sharp bursts. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep, but the image of those hollow eyes lingered, etched into his mind.
* * *
