The Silent Ward
ur Hospital
obs blinked at it, unsure whether the flickering was real or if her eyes were just playing tricks on he
been quiet at this hour,
sound, a pressure in the air, almost as
rything looked normal, all except for w
d. That wasn
perhaps, made her stop. Instead she stood up, pulled her cardigan tighter aroun
for weeks. It wasn't
istered a patient. A he
w was dark. The small square of reinforced
the handle. It t
r creak
od, not antiseptic, but the sour, metallic tang of
hand groping for
was no patient, not even a bed. Just a cold gurney pushed to the
ly from the machine, drawing a flatline
was jagged, and erratic, as if so
om noise, but words. A name scrawled over the paper, written over
a whisper, behind her, no breath, no voice, ju
turn
nd that the room was empty, and yet, the light dimmed, and her breat
and again no body, just the sound, the sound
– 17 minu
king back and forth, face streaked with tears. She wouldn't speak or blink, she just kept
ral Police Sta
e and stared at the file in front of he
Another face frozen in an expres
the file
er midnight. All under surveillance, and yet the tapes s
ive Nathan Marks, l
like hell,
," she
brown file on
this time, a nurse was found in shock, mumbling some non
e new file and
ard, but the number. It gnaw
uur again?"
loor. Psychiatric win
ood. "L
own sky. Siya hated hospitals in general, but now in particular she was hating this place, not because of the
hed their badges at the front desk, an
made it into public record. Half of it was still operational, outpatient therapy, trauma support, and
mbling hands met them a
aid, adjusting his
e about Nur
ed. "Wher
ing the same word. 'Listen.' Sometimes 'Asanda.
went
d at her but
g in Ward C3?" Siya
en. It's not on the active system. No keycard access. No patient assignment. Yet someone logg
ge," Mark
, relieved and unner
ery step louder than it should've been. The corridor had that s
other door, until you lo
ot vandalized, worn, as though t
ike breathing underwater. The walls were clean, the floor freshly mopped, and the equi
e strip. Flatline. Flatline.
thm, they followed a pattern,
nd pulled out her phone, sn
rway. "Looks like a pr
mured. "This i
up the EC
Asanda, the name again and aga
ling out,"
?" Mark
sist
lash – 13 Y
Student wing. S
was brilliant and analytical, whike t
he'd wanted to study abnormal psychology. She wanted to help the p
note either, and the CCTV went
ved it was just
lowed her sister. Now, she had
pital – Sublevel
, glancing around the dim stairwell as they des
said, pushing
ld that didn't come from bad insulatio
tal shelves stretched into the gloom. Folders, tapes, handw
ves. "You're lookin
was wiped two weeks after her disa
hat,
Ward C3 was before it
tense silence that only came from people who kn
y minutes,
led, was stuck between Cardi
– Internal
open
sychological profiles, but there were n
trates auditory sensitivity
es beneath the noise.' Mentions a son
fter Session 4. Claims to see her
ds tremble
her shoulder. "P
e an MKUltr
oto stapled to the last entry, it was
hair was longer, her eyes were hollow and she was
e record was O
s after her disappea
Siya, his expres
ight," he s
left," Si
round –
. In fact, the entire hallway was empty. Not just understaffed, but abandoned.
e of hearing, like someone humming through walls made
ut no one had opened it and from inside came a voice, it was
d her. No
at 12:23 PM, Talia Jacobs wa
ugh no one had logged her in an
shape, like she had died in the middle of a scream she hadn't chosen, and
stepped into the sunlight, on the roof top, but it didn'
ing god. Cape Town buzzed below as if the hospita
ng the Threnody file. "This
across the city. "This con
The way Asanda used to hum when she was nervous. That
oken signals. It was a song
"Whatever Project Thre
," Siya said. "Stil
no voice, just a crackling sound.After a short while there was a familiar word, drawn
t was her," she whisp
didn't
wind carrying with it the fain
ke a thousand mouths sing
whirred. Behind a thick pane of observation glass, a young woman sat s
. She was alive and
something tall, faceless, and waiting. And somewhere, a voice