- 7/15/2025
In a crumbling hospital in Seville, a night watchman is warned never to leave his post between 2 and 4 AM.
But one night, curiosity wins—and he witnesses a ghostly procession of the dead, led by a burned jinn-doctor promising to cure death itself.
By morning, the hospital is still standing—but it’s empty, except for the guard, who now walks silently among the dead, keeping a vow he never meant to make
But one night, curiosity wins—and he witnesses a ghostly procession of the dead, led by a burned jinn-doctor promising to cure death itself.
By morning, the hospital is still standing—but it’s empty, except for the guard, who now walks silently among the dead, keeping a vow he never meant to make
Category
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CreativityTranscript
00:00Some people think hospitals are places of healing. That's true during the day. But at night,
00:06hospitals change. Especially the old ones. Hospital de Santa Brigida, in Seville, Spain,
00:13had been standing for over 600 years. It started as a monastery. Then it became a plague ward.
00:21Later it turned into a hospital. Over the centuries, people had died there in every way
00:28you can imagine. Fever. Knife wounds. Childbirth. Cancer. The flu. Covid. You name it. Arturo Rivera
00:38thought about that on his first night on the job. He was 53. A retired cop. Bad heart. Bum knee.
00:47Not much of a pension. His cousin Miguel got him the security gig at Santa Brigida. It was supposed
00:53to be simple. Sit in the office. Watch the cameras. Lock the doors. Call if there's trouble. But there
01:02was one rule. Miguel told him that first night, while they shared vending machine coffee under
01:07the buzzing lights of the security office. Between 2 o'clock and 4 a.m., you stay here. You don't leave
01:14the office. No smoke breaks. No bathroom trips. No patrols. Arturo had laughed at first. Thought Miguel
01:24was pulling his leg. You serious? Miguel's eyes didn't blink. Dead serious. Miguel leaned in closer.
01:34His voice dropped to a whisper, even though they were alone. We call it La Promesa del Vigilante.
01:40The watchman's vow. Arturo smirked. What is this? Some ghost story for rookies.
01:49Miguel's hand landed hard on Arturo's shoulder. Listen to me, primo. This hospital is different.
01:57You think it's just old walls and sick people, but it's more than that. Between 2 and 4,
02:03this place doesn't belong to us. Then who does it belong to? Arturo asked, half-smiling.
02:11Miguel's eyes shifted toward the monitors. You don't want to know. Arturo wanted to press further,
02:18but Miguel didn't give him the chance. He handed Arturo a crucifix on a chain. Keep this in your
02:25pocket. And remember the vow. For 6 months, Arturo kept the rule. It wasn't hard.
02:32The hospital was boring at night. Quiet. Still. Most nights, he sat in the gray plastic chair,
02:40sipping cheap coffee and watching the cameras. The monitors showed the ER, the ICU, the operating
02:46rooms, and the long stone corridors of the old South Wing, the part of the hospital nobody used
02:51anymore. He would flip through a paperback novel, or sometimes scroll through his phone. Occasionally,
02:57he'd play solitaire or close his eyes for 10 minutes at a time. But he never, never, left the security
03:04office between 2 and 4. He kept the vow, just like Miguel said. Until the night he broke it.
03:11It was a Thursday night in May. Seville was hot. Humid. The kind of night where sweat sticks to your skin
03:19and the air smells like iron. The clock on the wall clicked past 2 a.m. Arturo leaned back in his chair.
03:26His stomach made a small, gurgling noise. His coffee was cold, but he drank it anyway.
03:34That's when the radio crackled. Security. Arturo. Are you there? It was Nurse Carla,
03:41from the ICU. Her voice sounded shaky. He picked up the walkie-talkie. Go ahead, Carla. Can someone
03:49check the South Wing? She whispered. We're hearing footsteps. Arturo frowned. Nobody's supposed to be
03:58in the South Wing at night. It's sealed off. I know, she whispered. But there's something down there.
04:05Arturo's eyes went to camera 14. That was the South Wing corridor. The oldest part of Santa Brigida.
04:14The video feed was black and white. A little fuzzy. But he saw movement. A line of people. 20. Maybe 30.
04:24All walking slowly, heads down, feet dragging. At the front of the line was a man in a white coat.
04:30Arturo squinted at the screen. The people on the monitor didn't move like normal patients.
04:37Their shoulders slumped. Their legs shuffled. Some of them leaned on walkers. Others dragged
04:44four poles behind them. Their hospital gowns swayed as they walked. And their faces were wrong.
04:51Gray skin. Sunken cheeks. Eyes open but glassy, like dolls. Their mouths moved, but no sound came out.
05:00At the front of the line was the man in the white coat. A doctor, maybe. But Arturo knew,
05:07in the back of his mind, that wasn't a doctor. His face was too smooth. His smile was too wide.
05:14And where his eyes should have been, there were two dark holes. Arturo's stomach twisted. He should
05:21have stayed in the office. He should have called Miguel. He should have remembered the vow. But old
05:28habits die hard. He had been a cop for 22 years. He wasn't the type to sit back while something
05:34strange happened on his watch. His hand reached for the flashlight. His legs pushed him up from
05:41the chair. This is probably a camera glitch, he whispered to himself. Maybe a system loop. But deep
05:49down, he knew better. The clock said 2.13 a.m. And he was about to break the rule. The south corridor
05:57was colder than the rest of the hospital. Arturo's boots echoed on the old stone floor. His flashlight
06:04beam jittered, shaking slightly in his hand. The walls smelled like wet plaster and incense, a smell he had
06:11never noticed before. He passed the old surgical theater. The windows were dark. The lights above
06:18flickered. And then he saw them. The procession was real. Not just on the camera. Not just on the
06:26monitor. They were right in front of him now. A long line of patients, dead, half dead, somewhere in
06:33between. They shuffled down the corridor like puppets on strings. Their mouths whispered something he
06:40couldn't understand. Some carried oxygen tanks. Some wore hospital gowns stained with blood or bile.
06:48At the front of the line walked the doctor in white. Arturo froze. His legs refused to move.
06:55The doctor's face was smooth, like porcelain. His lips were stretched in an unnatural smile.
07:02And his eyes were hollow holes, two empty pits. The doctor stepped forward, leaving the procession
07:08behind. His coat fluttered slightly, even though there was no wind. I am Dr. Khalid Ibn Rahman,
07:16he whispered. His voice was soft, but Arturo heard it inside his head, like someone whispering
07:21directly into his skull. I cure death, the doctor said. Arturo's lips parted. What? He croaked.
07:29I was once a man, the doctor said. Now I am something else. A healer of souls. A breaker of walls.
07:39The doctor's smile widened, showing too many teeth. More than a human mouth should hold.
07:46These patients were dying, the jinn whispered. So I cured them. Now they are mine. Arturo tried to step
07:54back. But his feet stayed planted on the cold tiles. You left your post, the doctor said,
08:01tilting his head. And now you've entered my ward. The doctor reached into his white coat and pulled
08:08out a clipboard. It was dripping with blood. The paper on it glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat.
08:15Arturo's eyes locked onto the top line. His own name was written there. Arturo Rivera.
08:22In his own handwriting. I didn't sign that, he whispered. But you did, the jinn whispered back.
08:30The moment you stepped into this corridor. Arturo's hands shook. His crucifix felt heavy
08:37in his pocket. He gripped it hard, but the metal was hot, burning his palm. The jinn doctor pushed
08:44the clipboard toward him. Sign fully, the doctor said. Join the cure. Become part of the treatment.
08:52Arturo's flashlight flickered. Behind the doctor, the line of patients grew longer. And as his eyes
08:59adjusted, Arturo saw something worse. Some of the people in the line weren't patients. They wore
09:06security uniforms. Just like him. Old patches. Different eras. Some with badges from the 1970s,
09:15others from the 1950s. Arturo recognized the face of Javier Mendes, a guard who had vanished in 1981.
09:24They still talked about him in whispers at the hospital. There he was, gray-skinned, lips moving
09:30silently in the procession. At the back of the line was a man who looked just like Arturo himself.
09:36Older. Hollow-eyed. Wearing his uniform. It wasn't a trick of the light. It was him.
09:45I can't. Arturo whispered. I can't join you. The doctor's smile stretched even wider. You already have.
09:54The clipboard pulsed in Arturo's hand. His fingers closed around the pen before he could stop himself.
10:01His name burned onto the paper, glowing brighter, brighter, until the letters weren't ink anymore.
10:08They were fire. The corridor twisted. The walls breathed in and out like lungs.
10:14The hospital ceiling peeled back into darkness. The procession moved forward,
10:19and Arturo took his place in the line. His mouth whispered along with the others now.
10:25I will watch. I will guard. I will never leave again.
10:29The doctor in white led them through a door made of shadow, into a world where no sunrise would ever
10:35come. At 7.03 a.m., the day shift arrived at Hospital de Santa Brigida. Sunlight spilled into
10:42the lobby through the stained glass windows. The morning smelled of bleach and old stone.
10:48Nurse Carla came in first. Her hair was tied back. Her shoes squeaked on the floor. Something felt wrong
10:56immediately. The hospital was empty. The nurse's station was unmanned. The ICU was silent. Charts lay open
11:06on the desks. Cups of cold coffee sat next to still-warm computers. She checked room 12. No patient.
11:15Room 14. Empty. Room 16. Sheets thrown back. Monitor still beeping, but nobody in the bed. Her throat
11:25tightened. She walked faster, heart pounding, calling out softly. Hello. Dr. Martine. Arturo. Silence.
11:35She checked the ER, but it was the same. Beds empty. Machines running. No patients. No doctors. No night
11:45staff. Not a single soul. Except for one thing. In the security office, the monitors were still on.
11:53And on camera 14, the south wing corridor showed the same thing it always did during those hours.
12:00A long procession of figures. The camera feed flickered, but it kept running.
12:05Carla leaned in close to the monitor, her fingers shaking. She saw the doctor in white at the front
12:11of the line. His coat fluttered, even though there was no breeze. His head tilted to one side,
12:18as if listening to something no human could hear. Behind him shuffled the patients. And behind the
12:25patients were the guards. Some wore old uniforms from the 1950s. Others had badges from the 80s.
12:33There were familiar faces in that line. Faces that had gone missing over the years. And there,
12:38near the front, was Arturo Rivera. He wore his security uniform. His badge glinted on his chest.
12:46His lips moved, whispering something over and over. The same phrase, again and again.
12:53I will watch. I will guard. I will never leave again. At 8.15 a.m., Carla called Miguel.
13:01Her voice was flat. Hollow. Like someone talking in a dream. Miguel? Something's wrong.
13:10Miguel sounded half asleep on the other end. What is it? Arturo's gone.
13:16The patients are gone. The night staff too. But the monitors. Her voice cracked. They're still
13:24there on camera 14. The procession. There was silence on the line. When Miguel finally spoke,
13:31his voice was low. They got him. What do you mean?
13:35I told him not to leave between 2 and 4. Miguel whispered. That's the deal. That's always been the
13:43deal. Miguel sat in his kitchen, phone pressed to his ear, eyes staring at the floor. His hand shook
13:50as he lit a cigarette. His grandfather had told him about the deal when he was a boy. La promesa del
13:57vigilante. Hospitals can't just heal the living. They have to deal with the dead too. Especially
14:05in old cities, where history stacks like bricks. In Seville, the line between life and death thins at
14:12certain hours. In certain places. Santa Brigitte was built on plague pits. There had been whispered
14:19packs long before there were medical degrees. A bargain had been struck. An exchange. Give the
14:26dead a corridor to walk. Let them shuffle between worlds. Let the gin doctor do his work between 2
14:33and 4. In return, the hospital would keep running. But if the watchman broke his vow, then the bargain
14:40shifted. And the debt came due. That night, the hospital reopened. Patients came in with stomach pain,
14:48broken bones, fevers. Doctors stitched wounds. Nurses gave shots. Machines beeped and hummed.
14:56The smell of sanitizer floated through the air. Everything looked normal again. Except for the
15:03south wing. Nobody went there. Nobody talked about it. And at 2 a.m., the night guard sat alone in the
15:11security office. He watched the monitors. The clock ticked softly. 2.01. 2.22. 3 o'clock.
15:20On camera 14, the procession walked as always. The doctor in white led the way. Behind him,
15:28the gray-eyed patients shuffled in silence. And behind them, the watchman marched. Their lips whispered the
15:35same old phrase. Over and over. Arturo's mouth moves still, though his body is gray and cold. His eyes
15:43stare forward, unblinking, locked in the endless line of souls. His heart no longer beats, but his lips
15:50keep whispering. I will watch. I will guard. I will never leave again. Somewhere in the distance,
15:58a door opens that no human built. The doctor in white gestures toward it. And the procession
16:05continues walking. Through the halls of the hospital. Through the cracks between life and death.
16:12Through time itself.
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