My best friend is a nurse who prefers working the night shift. She enjoys the peace and quiet it offers compared to the hustle and bustle of daytime. She often tells me that if elderly patients report seeing strange things or people in the hospital, there's usually no need to worry; they can sometimes be confused. However, if young children, especially those under seven, tell you they've seen something strange, you should pay close attention and be mindful of your surroundings, because children tend to speak plainly and truthfully.
A Hospital Encounter
I recently had a personal experience that brought my friend's advice to mind. I was hospitalized due to a severe hand injury. A large piece of glass broke while I was cleaning it, causing a deep cut that required surgery and a few days' stay. The patient in the bed next to mine was an elderly woman, who appeared to be in her 80s or older. Her family was incredibly kind and helpful, particularly since I was alone during my stay.
During my recovery, I met a little girl who was staying in the next room. She had brown hair, black eyes, and always wore white pajamas. She seemed to have a stomach issue. She was a cute girl, and would often ask me to draw flowers for her.
The incident occurred one afternoon after lunch. The little girl was sitting on my bed, and we were chatting and gossiping. Suddenly, the old lady in the next bed yelled, "Don't touch me! I don't want to go with you!" There were only the three of us in the room. I initially thought she might be experiencing a hallucination, but then the girl tugged on my sleeve and asked me to help the old lady.
"Help with what?" I asked, confused.
She replied that "there are two people standing next to the old lady's bed. Should we call the nurse?"
"Where?" I pressed. She raised her hand as if to point, but then dropped it, saying, "They're gone."
That night, at 11 p.m., the old lady passed away. Around 4 a.m. the next morning, a time often associated with strange occurrences in Chinese culture, I inexplicably woke up. Looking out at the moonlit sky, a chill ran down my spine.
The next morning, the nurse asked if I had been frightened the previous night. She told me that when she checked on me in the early hours, she felt a distinct coldness in the room. I wasn't sure if she was trying to spook me or offer comfort; I simply smiled and said nothing.
I was discharged from the hospital two days later, but the image of the little girl pointing at empty air, and her chilling words, "They're gone," remained etched in my memory. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had witnessed something inexplicable, a moment where the veil between worlds seemed to thin. To this day, I still wonder what—or who—the little girl truly saw that afternoon.
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