Today’s chilling creepypasta first appeared as a brief entry from an anonymous author claiming to be a former surgeon at a teaching hospital.
Throughout his career, the doctor had witnessed all manner of horrors afflicting the human body… but one night he saw something which terrified him so profoundly that he suffered a mental breakdown, after which he lost his license. Not that he would have returned to the profession anyway. Not after what he saw that night.
The following is the only known account from the unnamed doctor about the incident which effectively ended his career.
He prefaces this story by explaining the color-coding of wristbands issued to patients by hospital staff.
Most of you are familiar with the little paper wristbands you receive when you’re admitted, imprinted with your name, birthdate and a barcode linked to your medical chart. In most hospitals, these bands are color-coded to alert staff to specific patient needs and/or conditions.
Typically, the colors are red to note drug allergies, yellow to indicate the patient may be at risk of falling, purple for patients who have asked not to be resuscitated, and so on.
Then there’s the black wristband.
Not all hospitals employ this particular type, as its use is considered controversial. But at this particular facility, a black band is issued to persons who have been officially pronounced dead.
The surgeon noted that he had been working a double shift that day, and had just completed a difficult operation. He was taking the elevator from the fifth floor ward to the hospital’s basement parking facility, looking forward to a day of sleep in his own bed.
Before the door closed, a woman entered the elevator and punched the button for the ground level.
“Rough night?” the woman asked.
He nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Hmm. Don’t ask.”
“Sorry,” she said with a polite smile.
The elevator stopped at the third floor, and as the doors slid open, the doctor spotted another woman far down the corridor, walking toward them. As she approached, he began to notice something wrong about her.
Her skin was pale, her eyes were sunken and bruised, and her walk was strangely stiff, awkward and twitchy… but she was definitely not moving slowly. In fact, she was increasing speed as she approached the open doors.
The doctor began to suspect this woman might be a patient from the rehab facility on the third floor.
When she was just a few yards away, he noticed something else that made him reach immediately for the CLOSE DOOR button.
He hammered on the button repeatedly, which surprised the other passenger enough to make her flinch.
With the strange woman mere inches away, the doors finally closed. The doctor breathed a sigh of relief, but his heart was still pounding.
The other passenger turned to look at him, wide-eyed.
“That was kind of rude,” she quipped. “Why didn’t you let that woman on the elevator? She might have needed your help.”
Still struggling to regain his composure, the doctor managed to explain what had scared him so badly.
“That woman,” he said. “She was the patient I just operated on.”
“How is that even possible–” the passenger started to ask.
“Wait,” he interrupted. “Did you see her black wristband? They only put those on you when you’re dead.”
The woman stared at him for a long while… then her bemused expression turned into a thin smile.
“Like this?” she asked.
A smile began to spread across her face as he raised her arm… to reveal the black band around her wrist.
Before losing consciousness, the doctor remembers the elevator lights suddenly flickering out… and a pair of glowing eyes in the darkness.
He describes awakening in the ER, with one of his colleagues checking his vital signs. There was an IV tube in his arm.
“What happened?” He asked groggily, as vague images of the horrifying experience continued to replay in his mind.
“Seems you had a seizure,” the attending physician told him. “Cordie was just starting her rounds when she found you passed out in the elevator.”
So that was it, he thought. The two women were just a hallucination, brought on by a seizure.
“I told you what would happen if you pulled too many double shifts,” the other doctor admonished, still checking his vitals. “You know that level of fatigue is dangerous. Not just for you, but think about your patients.”
He nodded, remembering the operation he’d performed just before the elevator incident… had his patient actually died? Or did he imagine that as well?
He was about to ask the other doctor, but the look of sheer horror that slowly spread across her face stopped him… and made his blood run cold.
She was looking at his arm.
At his black wristband.