Jack always hated the night job. Becoming the night shift watchman for a hospital was not a good prospect in his mind, but beggars cannot be choosers. He was broke and waking up one day to find out that all he owned was a 5-dollar note, all his mind to could say was- ‘I need a job’. And the fastest one available was this one. Jack didn’t exactly believe in the supernatural, but after everybody in the infirmary had gone to sleep, and the only one for the company was the grouchy-faced watchman over to the other side of the building, Jack found it exceedingly spooky.
“Say what; jack, could you cover for me?”
“Why so, Tom?” asked Jack.
“It’s my sister. I got a call from home about a minute ago. She broke her leg and now I got to run.” Replied Tom, but without waiting for an answer, took off into the darkness. And that’s when Jack heard it,
“Sir, do you want some tea?”
Jack jumped a mile out of his skin upon hearing this. But when he saw the boy asking him the question, started to calm down, all the while unconsciously rubbing his left chest.
“Yeah, I would. Usually helps to calm me nerves.” Replied Jack.
“Did I scare you, sir?” asked the boy with a sly smile on his face.
Jack, who would never admit he was scared, didn’t bother to reply, but the smile retained on the boy’s face.
“Well, it’s completely normal to be scared working here. Personally, I would be too if I did, what with the stories and all circling around the place.”
“What stories?” enquired Jack. Somehow, the conversation with the boy was not going to his liking, and he only getting more irate with each second.
“Well, the story goes that an old woman used to own a florist’s shop just down the street. Years and years she would sell flowers to people who used to come to see their relatives in this hospital. But one day, she had a heart-attack. She was rushed to this very hospital and given immediate treatment, but she passed away. People still say that they can hear her voice and the smell of flowers when they are alone in the hospital at night.” The boy finished dramatically.
Jack had worn a frown upon his face from the start of the story, and his eyebrows had almost become one single line of hair as the story progressed. However, upon the young lad’s finish, he burst out laughing and asked;
“Why, kid, you should have started writing stories for a profession. You are seriously wasting your time here.”
The boy snorted when he heard Jack’s reply and simply answered,
“You can believe me if you want to because I won’t force you. However, this isn’t a story made by me, but passed on to me by my father and several other people, including doctors and nurses of this very hospital. However, since you belittle me so much, I think I should go and get your tea now.” And so saying so, the boy picks his nose up high, and walks away in a slightly annoying fashion.
Jack hadn’t bothered to try and correct the boy that those stories may have been nothing but hallucinations, created by man’s own willingness to fantasize, even though he had very much wanted to. Kids will be kids, and you cannot moralize children out of growing up, or teach them how to do it. But, relinquishing these thoughts of his Jack went inside the hospice to do his regular rounds to check if everything is okay inside. Little did he know that his bad night, was about to become worse.
The long hallway was completely empty, and embraced by semi-darkness, giving eerie Goosebumps on Jack’s neck. All around him came the sounds of soft snoring; almost everybody was asleep and dreaming. Jack continued onwards, although now a little spooked largely due to, what he described, the “little pup’s” story. But, of course, there were no such things as ghosts, everyone knew that, and Jack knew, wanted, to believe that. Jack flared his nostrils, sniffed the air, and froze. The smell of flowers, Jack was sure it was the scent of flowers. His body went numb with fright, and for a full minute, he was unable to budge an inch. His entire body went cold, his forehead started to sweat vehemently, and his knees started to shake. All he could really think was ‘no, no you are dreaming, do not think about that’, but the fat was really in the fire by now. But the worst was yet to come for the fragrance was getting stronger. Jack registered one single line of input as this realization hit him, ‘It’s getting closer’. And out ran Jack, out of the hallway, out of the hospital, all the way up to the street and away, screaming his lungs out.
The boy, who had told him the story to Jack, to have some ‘fun’ with him, came back with the tea and saw Jack flying away at top speed. The boy felt inquisitive, and also a little afraid, for after all, what could have scared him so much? So, taking in a deep breath, he went inside, also to discover the aroma of flowers, and also a man, a patient, standing outside his room, fuming by the look on his face. He seemed angry due to a horrible screaming outside his room.
“I was spraying away for bugs in my room, and came to his ear-splitting scream as a banshee had arrived outside my room.” Said the man, furious.
The boy hesitated a bit, but then narrated everything, from the conversation he had with Jack, to Jack running away.
“Oh, damn! My bug-spray gives off a fragrance of flowers, to lighten the room” and so saying he held up the can.
It took five seconds for them to register, and then they burst out laughing.
