Episode 29

The air in the subterranean tunnels beneath Salt Lake Regional Hospital always carried a peculiar chill, a damp, earthy scent that clung to the concrete and steel. It was a place where the hospital’s inner workings hummed unseen, a labyrinth of pipes and wires, and, as I was to discover, a thoroughfare for those who had long since departed. I’d been down there a few times during my tenure, usually on a late-night errand, always with a healthy dose of unease. The flickering fluorescent lights cast long, dancing shadows, and every drip of water echoed with an unnerving resonance.

One particularly early shift, I was tasked with retrieving some obscure cleaning and laundry supplies 5that had been relegated to a storage area deep within the tunnel system. The silence was profound, broken only by the distant rumble of the building above and the occasional scuttling sound that I always told myself was just vermin. As I rounded a bend, my flashlight beam caught something that made my breath catch in my throat.

It was the faint, ethereal glow of what looked like candlelight, moving with a steady, rhythmic pace. Curiosity, a dangerous companion in places like this, warred with a primal urge to flee. I held my breath, pressing myself against the cold, damp wall, and watched as the light drew closer.