Monjas, Hospitales Y Fantasmas | Relatos Del Lado Oscuro 🔖

One rainy Tuesday, Elena found a patient in Room 402—a woman recovering from a difficult surgery—sleeping soundly. To her surprise, a small, ceramic cup of water sat on the nightstand, though the woman had been strictly NPO (nothing by mouth) until that morning. "Who brought this?" Elena asked during the morning rounds.

As Elena backed away, she heard a whisper from the corner of the room, a voice like dry leaves: "She is rested now. Are you?" Monjas, hospitales y fantasmas | Relatos del lado oscuro

Elena froze as the figure stopped in front of Room 402. The nun didn’t turn; she simply drifted through the heavy oak door. When Elena finally found the courage to burst into the room, it was empty of any living person. The patient was gone—transferred to ICU an hour earlier—but the ceramic cup was now full of water, cold as ice, and the faint scent of old incense lingered in the air. One rainy Tuesday, Elena found a patient in

The old General Hospital was a labyrinth of cold tiles and echoing hallways. For Elena, a young nurse on the graveyard shift, the silence of the maternity ward was never truly silent. It hummed with the rhythmic beep of monitors and the distant, unexplained shuffling of feet. As Elena backed away, she heard a whisper

The patient smiled weakly. "The sister. The one in the heavy blue habit. She was so kind; she stayed with me when the pain was worst, praying softly until I fell asleep."

Elena felt a chill. The hospital hadn't employed religious sisters since the late 1970s.

Elena didn't wait for an answer. She finished her shift in the brightly lit cafeteria, knowing that in the "dark side" of the hospital, some vigils never end. Relatos del lado oscuro - Podcast - Apple Podcasts