The Visitor. Amanda Stevens
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and another at the opposite end of the hallway large enough to transport gurneys from floor to floor. That elevator went all the way down to the basement level. I wasn’t sure how I knew this unless I’d subconsciously taken note of the buttons when I’d been brought up to my room.
The tiles were cold beneath my bare feet as I slipped down the hallway in the wake of the ghost. The moment I rounded a corner, out of sight of those behind me, the electrical fluctuations subsided. I entered the elevator, the doors closed and, as the car descended, the hushed voices from the morgue crept back into my head.
When the elevator stopped, I stepped out into a wide hallway with branching corridors on either side. In front of me was a set of double doors with narrow glass panels through which I could see into the receiving area of the morgue. A red sign marked the outside bay where bodies were delivered and picked up, and beyond a long counter were several closed doors, which I assumed were the autopsy rooms and coolers.
The ghost voices faded as an unnatural hush fell over the hallway. Time seemed to stop as I hovered between the dead world and the living world. The floating sensation was not at all unpleasant, but it lasted for only a heartbeat before the babbling in my head started up again, rising to a sharp, painful crescendo. The walls started to spin and I slid down the cool cinderblocks, curling myself in a ball as I clutched my ears.
Even in the grip of that debilitating vertigo, I could feel invisible hands reaching through the walls for me, diaphanous bodies squeezing in on me as I huddled on the floor breathless and trembling.
For a moment, I let myself entertain the possibility that all of this was nothing more than a terrible hallucination. A nightmare from which I would soon awaken.
But I knew better. It was real. It was happening. And in a moment of enlightenment, I realized why the blind entity had led me down to the basement. The voices were stronger in the morgue because the newly departed had somehow opened a door, allowing those trapped souls to reach out to me. Individual spirit communication was one thing, but this mass beseeching was a new development. Another terrifying facet to my dark gift.
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