I was working at an old hospital downtown when there was some major renovation work being done. Our old locker room was being turned into something else, so they moved our lockers up to the fourth floor of an old wing, built in 1950. The unit had last been used sometime the decade before to house pediatric patients. Needless to say, there were many years of dust on everything, the desk where the nurses used to work, on the window sills, and just about everywhere else. The walls and doors still were still adorned with paintings of various nursery rhymes. The elevator we used was at one end of the hall. Every time I would exit the elevator at the end of my shift late at night, I was hit with this strange feeling, as though there were many voices running down the hallway towards me. Even when I was in what used to be the playroom, at my locker changing, chills would travel down my spine, as though there were little faces, peeking around the corner of the door at me. There was also this overwhelming feeling of sadness that I was never able to shake. Even now, although years have passed since I was last there, whenever I think of it, I still get those chills. Legend has it that the feeling of sadness is from all the souls of the children who came in, but never left the hospital alive. It was so unnerving to many of us that our lockers were moved to another part of the hospital, to a building that, many years before, had housed young nursing students. Little did we know that we would experience "Mother" in that residence...

Neil Peters, Calgary, Alberta, Canada