The Night I Discovered the Creepiest Clinic in Town
I never thought a simple headache would lead me to one of the strangest, most unsettling nights of my life. But life has a funny way of turning minor inconveniences into full-fledged horror stories, doesn’t it?
It all started with a dull, throbbing pain behind my eyes—nothing serious, but enough to make me regret my caffeine-fueled lifestyle. After hours of suffering, I gave in and decided to visit a small clinic I’d passed by countless times but never really noticed before.
"24-HOUR CLINIC – NO APPOINTMENT NEEDED."
A blessing, right? That’s what I thought.
The moment I stepped inside, something felt… off. The place was too quiet, even for late at night. No buzzing computers, no soft chatter of nurses, just the rhythmic ticking of an old clock on the wall. The receptionist—a woman with an unsettlingly stiff smile—didn’t ask for my ID or insurance. She just tilted her head slightly and said, "Doctor is waiting for you in Room 3."
Wait, how did she know my name? I hadn’t even spoken yet.
A chill crawled up my spine, but my headache was winning the battle against my common sense. So, like the protagonist of every bad horror movie, I ignored the obvious red flags and walked in.
Inside, the examination room was pristine—too pristine. The walls were blindingly white, the air smelled of antiseptic so strong it stung my nose, and in the center stood an operating table. Not an examination bed, an operating table.
And then I saw him.
The doctor.
At least, I think he was a doctor. His white coat was spotless, his movements eerily precise, and his face… something about it just didn’t sit right. It was symmetrical to the point of being unnatural, like it had been sculpted rather than grown.
"Your body is in perfect condition," he said, his voice emotionless. "It will serve well."
Serve well for what exactly? I didn’t intend to find out.
Instinct kicked in, and I bolted toward the door—except the same stiff-smiling receptionist was already there, blocking my way. Behind her, I noticed something I had missed before: another room, dimly lit, filled with hospital beds.
And on those beds… were people.
Some were unconscious, some were eerily still, and some—some looked exactly like me.
I don’t remember much after that. Just the sheer, primal terror of realizing I had walked into something very, very wrong.
All I know is that I woke up hours later, in my own bed, with no sign of the clinic anywhere in town.
Did I dream it? Maybe. But then why was there a small, white hospital bracelet still wrapped around my wrist?
I haven’t had a headache since.
And honestly? I don’t think I ever want to visit a doctor again.
Mysterious Clinic