Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment and reading purposes. The characters, events, places, and situations depicted are fictional unless otherwise stated, and any resemblance to actual people, living or deceased, or real events or places is purely coincidental. The story may contain fictional situations, themes, or material that may not be suitable for every reader. Some images accompanying this story may be generated using Google Gemini and may be fictional, stylized, or interpretive and may not accurately represent real people, places, objects, or events.

( Description : hospital scary story about a routine visit that takes a terrifying turn. What begins as a simple hospital visit soon becomes a nightmare where reality is hard to distinguish from illusion. If you enjoy a horror story with a twist, this scary story with a twist will keep you guessing until the end.)

As usual in the morning, I woke up exhausted since I had slept at midnight. I hopped out of bed, rubbing my eyes and wiggling from side to side as I walked to the kitchen to grab some water. I poured the water into a glass, but as I opened my mouth wide to chug it, I felt a sharp pain. Ignoring it, I drank. I could feel the water going down, and with that, a sharp pain flared in my throat. To see whether there was a problem, I drank again, and again, the sharp pain occurred, giving me chills.

I ran to the mirror to check my mouth. As I opened it to see, to my surprise, there it was—a huge white patch on the side of my mouth. I concluded that this must be the problem and decided to check with a doctor. Without any delay, I brushed my teeth and had breakfast despite the intense pain. I got dressed, grabbed my bike key from the table, and hopped on my bike to go to the doctor.

As I left my house heading towards the hospital, I knew it was just a few minutes away. While I was on the road, I could see vehicles leaving me behind. One of them was a motorbike that had recently been released to the market. I dreamed of buying that bike, but I regretted that I didn’t have the money. However, I was fortunate enough to see one crossing me. I was completely mesmerized by the beauty that the motorbike radiated.

Suddenly, I was interrupted by a thud loud enough to tear my ears. As I stopped to look around, I saw that a crash had happened. Just like the others, I was curious about how it occurred. I turned my bike to see what happened, parked it at the side, and ran towards the site. Most people were gathering around. As I somehow crossed through the crowd, I saw that a truck had hit a motorbike. To my surprise, it was the exact same bike that had just been released, lying at the side of the road. The rider had fallen onto the road; I couldn’t see his face because he was lying face down.

By tapping one of the people, I asked, “How did it happen?”

He looked back at me in a distressed manner and said, “I saw the truck ram into the back of his bike, and it skidded on the road, making the bike go off balance, which caused him to fall onto the road, taking serious injuries.”

“Did anyone call an ambulance?” I asked.

“Yes, they did,” he replied.

Since I knew it would take time to arrive and I didn’t have enough time because the doctor would leave early, I didn’t wait any further. However, I did pity him for the bad luck of getting into that accident. I got back to my bike and started it to head to the hospital.

As I traveled a few meters further, I noticed that, comparatively, no vehicles were crossing me. Specifically, there were only a few behind me; I could hear them, but compared to earlier, they were far fewer. It was explainable since there was an accident just a few minutes back, causing traffic. Without much thought, I rode my bike and reached the hospital.

As I arrived at the hospital, parked my bike, and walked out of the lot, the first thing I saw was the crowd, which was massive. There was a huge line of people standing at the counter. Since I had an appointment with the doctor, I didn’t think I needed to worry about it.

I went inside the hospital and inquired at the reception regarding my appointment. They checked their system first, seemingly searching for my name. After a few seconds, the receptionist lifted her head, glared back at me, and said, “The doctor hasn’t come yet. He will come by the time you stand at the counter for the first few tests.”

My face turned to shock at her words as she was telling me to stand in the line.

“Counter? What counter? That line there?” I asked, pointing towards the line.

“Yes, that line. You may have taken an appointment with the doctor, but you still need to stand in the line for the vitals check. They will give you the ticket to meet the interim doctor, and lastly, you will see the expert doctor, so please stand there,” she replied.

I was dumbfounded. “Like, come on! I came with an appointment, and you are telling me to stand in line? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Yes, sir, this is how things happen here,” she replied, while still trying to persuade me to get my vitals checked first.

I was furious and started shouting at them, “You guys and your rules are absurd!” Without much choice, I stood in line.

As the line was moving slowly, I was also moving in small steps. As the line moved on, I heard the sound of an ambulance approaching the hospital. Some nurses got busy preparing to receive the patient. They opened the doors, brought out a stretcher, and hurriedly placed the patient onto it, taking them inside without delaying at all. As I stood there, mesmerized by their way of handling the patient, I came back to my senses. I looked at the receptionists and saw they were completely unfazed, so I figured this must be pretty normal here.

While I was in the line, a few of the people were looking at me. I thought maybe my confrontation at the reception desk had caused them to glare at me.

I didn’t give it much thought since it was the usual job of some people to look at others as if they had done something wrong. Can’t blame them. A few minutes went by, and I started focusing on my surroundings. A few people behind me were talking about some random things, and one of the people in front of me was blaming the ticket giver to do it faster as the line was moving slowly. Within all those odds, I realized my anger was calming down, making it an experience I would never forget.

Soon, my turn came at the counter. I told the person at the counter my name, my health problem with the throat pain, and my appointment with the doctor. She fed the details into the computer and dragged me inside while checking my vitals, like my eyes, pulse, height, B/P, sugar, and many other things.

Out of curiosity, I asked, “Does an eye check come under vitals?”

“Ohh, yes, it does. Before seeing anything major that has happened, we need to check that,” she whispered slowly, as there were patients behind us.

She took a kind of file, filled in the details of the vitals, punched it, and gave it to me, telling me, “Show this to the doctor, okay?”

I said thank you and got up. In reply, she said, “Take care of yourself,” and called another person to check their vitals as I moved outside. For her kindness, I wanted to give her a tip, but I couldn’t. I was already outside the chamber, and when I looked at my pocket, my wallet was missing, so I stopped midway without looking back. But I was curious who the hell would take my wallet when there was nothing in it, just a few spares to give, not the bucks. I chuckled at the situation.

I had only taken a few steps when I realized that I forgot to ask which room or doctor I should visit. To fix that, I turned back to ask, but seeing how busy the line was, I abandoned the idea. Now, there was only one way to know, and that was the receptionist. Even though I hated the thought of asking them again, I had no choice but to go to the reception to inquire.

Making a defeated face, I gathered all my strength and went to the desk to ask, “I got the card or ticket, whatever you called it, but I can’t find the way to see the doctor.”

The receptionist looked at me, smiled, and said, “This one, I could help you with that.” She took the card that I presented to her and looked at it. Then, she pointed her hand upwards.

Confused, I looked up and saw nothing. I looked back at her and cheekily said, “I can’t see the way up there except for the ceiling,” and laughed.

I saw her face turning red at my words, which only made me laugh more. She took those words professionally and said, “That’s not funny. Anyway, this one is on the first floor, and it’s chamber number 9, as it is written on the ticket.” She gave back the ticket, and I looked at it closer and realized it was written 9.

“Thank you, and sorry for the comments. I was just being funny,” I said to her.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. Without hearing anything from her afterwards, I thought she forgave me for my comments, so I moved on to the first floor. While tilting my head left and right, I saw the numbers all written on the chamber entrances, and I found mine.

I moved towards the room to enter and peeked my head inside. I saw lines of people who were waiting for their checkups. As I looked at the scene, I was completely dumbfounded by the amount of time I would need to wait just to get checked. Losing all my motivation to go inside, I just sat on a bench that was outside the room, thinking about whether I should stay or quit.

I was in deep confusion, trying to decide what to do. A short distance away from my spot—maybe 10 or 15 meters—I caught sight of a woman who I thought might be one of my family members, the one who had been in a coma for the last 10 years. She was taking a stroll in a wheelchair while talking with a nurse and laughing at their comedy, as the nurse was pushing the wheelchair from behind. That’s what I thought.

I said to myself, “When did she get well? Last I remembered, she was in a coma. No one told me.”

I stood up, thinking I could go congratulate her on her recovery. I went near her and asked her, “Hey, Aunt, how are you? And when did you recover from the health issue?”

She looked at me for a few minutes and asked me in a polite manner, “My apologies, young man, who are you exactly? I can’t remember you.”

“Ohh, since it’s been years since you’ve seen me, let me introduce myself. I am Rand, son of Luke Rand,” I said.

“Ohh, you are Rand. I saw you years back when you were a child. Look at you, you have grown well. If I see clearly, I see you resemble your father. Anyways, what makes you come here? Are you lost, or did you cause anything dangerous to yourself?”

“No, no, nothing much. I just came to check up on my health, but you are looking fine now, like the early days of you,” I said to her.

“No, no, that would be too much for the compliment, but I wouldn’t say this is not the hosp…” She was about to continue further, but she was held back by the nurse putting her hands on my aunt’s shoulder. At the same time, another nurse came behind me and tapped my shoulder while asking, “Aren’t you the one who was in front of the chamber just now? And you came running here to talk to your loved one? It doesn’t happen here. You can do that anytime somewhere. Come with me for your checkup.”

She forcefully took my hands and dragged me to the room 9 chamber while I was waving bye to my aunt. Here I am, thinking this is also one of the absurd rules of the hospital, I think.

I was pushed inside the room. With complete confusion in my head, I scanned the surroundings to see what or who had pulled me. I saw nothing except for a doctor sitting on a chair and someone who looked like a nurse standing beside him, holding a book. I thought to myself that maybe this was just how they did checks here.

With curiosity and great confusion, I asked, “Where is the line that was just out there?”

The nurse looked back at me in a sarcastic way and replied, “You don’t need to worry about them, since it is your checkup, not theirs.”

I was about to reply to her, but she stopped me midway and told me to sit on the chair in front of the doctor. Without any further thoughts, I sat on the chair as the doctor prepared to examine me.

The doctor, who was sitting in front of me, started to look at me right from head to toe while turning my chair with his foot. That is when I realized it was a turning chair. As I was just grasping the situation, after a few minutes of checking me with a suspicious look, he finally asked me, “What is the ticket?”

I gave him the ticket. He took it, looked at it, and said, “Ohh, this is the problem,” and he gave it back to his assistant nurse.

The nurse looked at it and said, “It seems not much of a problem, sir. It should be quick enough to resolve.”

“Ahh, quick enough to resolve. Maybe these white patches are common. Since this was written on the ticket, it made it easier for them to understand the situation.”

As I opened my mouth to explain to him my condition with the white patches, he stopped me midway, turned towards the nurse, and started to chat a bit in a different language, which I couldn’t understand. I gave up trying to figure it out. A few minutes passed, and their conversation ended.

He turned towards me in anger and spoke, “Can’t you drive carefully? This generation, or any generation, they are doomed to come here every time.”

I stopped him midway, saying, “I did drive my bike carefully, that’s why I am safe. I don’t understand what you are saying.”

Again, in fierce anger, he shouted, “Oh, shut up! I know how you drove. Anyways, I can’t make you understand what happened or how it happened since it’s a privacy issue. But remember, I will send you back, but make sure to drive carefully again, huh.”

With this, he turned back to look for something. Here I was, in confusion, shouting at him, “Send me back where? I can go back myself! And what is this about driving safely? I was doing that from the start! Shut up and check my white patches! Or send me to the doctor who I got an appointment with.”

As I was in the midst of shouting at him, the doctor turned back towards me, holding something. I was expecting at least a syringe or a tablet, but I was wrong. He was holding a hammer, and the hammerhead was covered with a cloth.

With a fierce look, he said, “Oh, you’re saying you can go back yourself? That’s interesting, because I never saw anyone doing it. Anyways, it’s my job to send you back, and I can’t hold you back, so you could find your way on your own.”

He held my head by the hair with his left hand, raised his hammer, and looked like he was about to hit me. I got scared for a second and tried to fight back, but nothing seemed useful as his grip was intense. With no choice, I prayed to escape the situation alive. Finally, he hit me with the hammer. That’s what it seemed like.

The pain was intense, or so it seemed, but when I opened my eyes with a loud shout, “Save me!” after that shocking incident, I saw myself lying on a bed. I was covered in bandages on my legs and arms, with a pain in my head. I was in confusion about where I was. I remembered he hit me on the head, not on the legs and hands, so why was I covered there?

Then, I realized I was not alone in that room. I was surrounded by a few people. To be exact, they were my sister, brother, mom, and dad, and a nurse who was taking care of my medication, I think. With my awakening, she ran outside of the room. I think she went to call the doctor.

Since she ran outside to call the doctor, I wanted to run away, since I didn’t want to go through that incident again. As I lifted my body from the bed, at that exact moment, the doctor ran towards me. I thought I was doomed, but when I looked at the doctor, he was different. But still, whoever it was, I wanted to force myself out no matter what.

They all stopped me and asked me what was making me want to go outside. For a few minutes, the doctor, my family, and I were in a war where they were trying to stop me from leaving. At last, I came to my senses and calmed down, and the doctor asked, “What happened? Why did you act like that?”

I told them everything that had happened to me, but they were all surprised. The doctor looked at me and gave a sarcastic laugh, saying, “I don’t know how or where it happened, but what I can say is you were unconscious for a week. We thought you were a goner, but you are here alive, like you fought with death and came back.”

I gave a big sigh and said, “How can I be unconscious when I was doing well till that doctor hit me on the head, and here I am covered in bandages?”

To that, my sister, who was beside me, held my hands and said, “I don’t know which doctor did it, but what I can say is you were in an accident. A truck hit you, and you were soon rescued from the spot and admitted here for further treatment. I am happy you got well.”

Those words got into my head, and I rewound my memories, and I remembered what happened that day. I was riding my bike at full speed, and the truck behind me was also at full speed. The moment I slowed down to admire the new bike, the truck behind me lost control of its speed and hit me, which sent me flying to the side of the road.

Remembering that incident, I was in confusion about what happened, as I rode my bike completely safely to the hospital that day. I couldn’t help but accept it and laugh at it, believing it was a dream—or was it reality? But I am alive, and that is reality.