CHAPTER 1: The Incomplete Plan.
The image was created using META AI on WhatsApp.
Grenda Hospital, an old Dutch-era hospital, sits on a small hill on the outskirts of town. It has been defunct for two decades, but the building still stands strong—silent and forgotten, surrounded by rubber plantations and old, unused pipelines.
Aris Pratama, a final-semester medical student, received a special assignment from his university: an internship in the medical history documentation program. The project was being conducted in collaboration with an archives institution, and Grenda Hospital was chosen as the primary location because of its well-preserved medical records—complete with ancient equipment, rusty patient beds, and a record warehouse that had yet to be digitized.
Aris was not easily intimidated. He loved medical history. In fact, he had a habit of recording daily audio journals and writing blogs about old hospitals.
That morning, Aris woke up earlier than usual, half-jogging toward the bathroom, eager to get there quickly, eager to see the history of the Dutch-era hospital. Because today was a special day for him, he didn't even bother with breakfast, which wasn't particularly important to him.
Aris got into the car and drove at a moderate speed, playing his favorite music. He enjoyed the cool morning air. Upon arrival, Aris was accompanied by Mr. Joyo—an old guard who lived in a small post near the back gate. He was quite old, but he was kind and friendly to Aris, explaining the details about the hospital.
"This is the original floor plan of the building," said Mr. Joyo, showing an old sheet copied from a 1974 print. "The first and second floors only have two main hallways: north and south. The middle is the treatment and operating rooms," Mr. Joyo continued.
Aris studied the floor plan. It was simple, but quite large.
He spent the next few days photographing the rooms, copying medical text, and recording descriptions of strange instruments—like manual mucus aspirators, metal syringes, and even large surgical forceps that made him shudder. There was nothing unusual about the place, and Aris seemed very satisfied with having everything he needed for his university studies. And most importantly, he knew a lot about this old hospital.
However, something strange happened on the fifth day. While walking alone on the second floor, Aris saw something that wasn't on the floor plan. At the end of the south hallway, there should have been only a nurses' changing room. But after opening the nearly rotting door... a long hallway opened up.
The hallway was dark, damper than the rest of the building, and smelled different—a smell of stale carbolic acid mixed with scrap metal. Along the hallway were patient room doors, similar to those in other parts of the hospital. But each door had a small, crudely scribbled nameplate, as if someone had deliberately erased the identities of the occupants.
The doors were tightly closed. The walls were covered with fine moss. Strangely, when he took photos with his DSLR camera, some of the photos were blurry. And when he viewed the results on a small screen, the hallway appeared longer than it actually was. Aris came across a photo that frightened him quite a bit: the figure of a woman sitting in a wheelchair. Although the photo was blurry, the figure was clearly visible. Aris ignored them, as it was perfectly normal for an abandoned place to harbor many invisible creatures.
His curiosity was unstoppable that afternoon. Aris immediately went to Mr. Joyo.
“Sir, there's another hallway on the second floor. Behind the changing rooms...” Aris said.
“A hallway?” Mr. Joyo replied in a puzzled tone.
“Yes, it's long. Lots of rooms. But it's not on the floor plan.” Aris explained.
Mr. Joyo immediately fell silent.
“Aris... I suggest you don't go there again,” Mr. Joyo said with a worried expression.
“Why, sir?” Aris asked curiously.
“It... wasn't for us. It used to be open. But there were many strange incidents. Some patients never came home. Some nurses suddenly disappeared. The hallway was closed. The floor plan was erased,” Mr. Joyo replied.
“But why?” Aris asked again.
“Because it's a hallway that... appeared on its own. It wasn't there before. It suddenly appeared. After one patient.” Mr. Joyo paused. His gaze was blank. "I've been guarding here since 1989. Ever since that patient arrived... the hallway has changed," Mr. Joyo continued, a little nervous as he explained to me.
That night, Aris couldn't sleep. His curiosity was greater than his fear. And finally... he went back there. Alone.
"I can't wait until tomorrow. I have to go there tonight," Aris said softly. Then he grabbed his favorite jacket that was perched behind his bedroom door.
Halfway there, he suddenly felt doubt. He thought this time he had a bad feeling. But because his curiosity was too strong, Aris stepped on the gas quickly.
At 11:42 PM, Aris arrived back at Grenda Hospital. He brought a camera, a voice recorder, an LED flashlight, and a small prayer bead left by his late grandmother—not because he was religious, but because it felt calmer with him.
The hallway was still there, but now it was quieter and darker. Aris's footsteps seemed to echo. The walls of the hallway looked damp. Occasionally, a trickle of water could be heard from somewhere. And... the smell of old metal grew stronger. In the fourth room from the end, he heard a creaking sound—like a bed being gently pushed.
When he opened the door...it was empty. Just an old bed with straps at each corner. It looked like a place for mental patients. Beside the bed was a small table. On it were worn medical records.
The handwriting was typical of old hospitals, and not everyone could read it.
“Patient 071: Aris Pratama. Claims to have heard the sound of an old bed coming from the third hallway before the hallway was discovered. Has symptoms of delusions of time and space. Refuses to leave. Tries to return to the hallway every night.”
Aris froze. That was his own name. He had never written or said it here before. His flashlight dimmed. The voice recorder he had brought with him turned on by itself. From its small speaker came a soft voice, like a woman's whisper: "DON'T COME BACK... DON'T COME BACK..."
Aris panicked. He ran out of the room. But the hallway was now endless. He ran, but kept returning to the same place. The walls seemed to move—closing, bending, as if trying to crush him. Until he stopped in front of another door, larger, faded black.
Written in dark gold ink: "Patient 071 - Aris Pratama."
The door opened slowly. From inside came the sound of heavy breathing... like someone lying in bed trying to get up. Followed by the sound of a wheelchair moving, then... breathing behind Aris. He turned around. "Throbbing..." Aris's heart felt like it was going to stop.
He was shocked by the sight behind him, seeing numerous apparitions filling the hallway. They were all wearing simple, shabby white hospital gowns, their faces pale, but their gazes were terrifying. They seemed angry and wanted to attack Aris.
Aris's legs trembled, and soon he felt a cold hand grip his shoulder, leaving him frozen in place, unable to move, his vision blurry. Just before he fainted, he saw the figure of a small child pleading for help. The words he heard were, "Help me, Aris..." His voice was heartbreaking to hear.
The next day, Mr. Joyo found him lying in front of the archives room. He then asked for help from local residents to carry Aris to his house. Eventually, Aris regained consciousness. But he didn't say much, not wanting to explain anything to Mr. Joyo. He excused himself and went home.
Upon arriving at his boarding house, Aris opened his camera and voice recorder. But... All the photos and videos taken from the third hallway were gone.
All that remained was a single audio file with the automatic title: _LORROW_071. It contained the sounds of a crowd whispering, but they were indistinct, as if from the mouths of thousands of patients. He rummaged through the recordings until he found one that filled him with intense fear.
“The Third Corridor only appears... to those who will be one of us... and those who have seen it... can never run away.”
Aris's face turned pale, and fear welled up in his chest. Then Aris chose to withdraw from the documentation project. He moved boarding houses, stopped blogging, and chose not to talk about Grenda Hospital anymore.
But every night at 1:35, Aris always woke up.
Gasping for breath, and hearing one sound he always heard: the sound of a creaking bed. And in a recurring dream... He stood before the third corridor. A corridor that had never been recorded. But waiting for him to return.
TO BE CONTINUED