I had taken up a job working at Fern Marker Hospital in Sonoma, Kansas around the August of 2004; quitting shortly after.
During my time there, my psychological stability was put on the fritz everyday. Working in a hospital is one of the most mentally demanding jobs out there, and some of the scariest things I saw were crushed limbs, hanging organs, and the bashed heads of careless drivers. But, my resignation wasn’t because of those things, those were expected with the job, the things to follow weren’t.
Specifically, I recall the night of August the 6th. I remember seeing a small family rush in through the main E.R. gate, all of them covered in a thick coating of blood. They all looked just like regular folks. The adults carried with them what I presumed were their children.
The father quickly approached me, appearing injured, shouting,
“Where did it come from! I- I don’t know where it came from!” Panicking, I watched as he anxiously wiped the maroon liquid from his face. I just stood there, dazed by what was going on. What the hell had happened?
After backing away from the situation (as I was extremely inexperienced), I observed from a distance that their boy was having convulsions, throbbing, vomiting. I wasn't too sure of the final diagnosis because I resigned too soon after to receive a followup. My eyes flash over to the daughter and the mother, and as I recall, they were both fine; just severely shaken up.
By now a few doctors had been summoned to the scene, where they quickly apprehended the disturbed man. As they ushered him down the hall, he screamed strange words and names, even numbers. It was all very, very odd. The mother and the daughter watched painfully onward, the seizing boy still in her hands.
Before I could ask any questions, or help in any way, a new group of medical staff accompanied the daughter, mother and boy off to another part of the hospital.
Unfortunately, I was never able to keep tabs on the patients, as I had been just a beginner at the time.
Anyways, a few hours had passed and the clock was reaching 12:30-ish in the morning. I found comfort in that my shift was nearly over, so I began the tedious process of packing my belongings for the hour ride home. I strangely kept thinking of that boy that they brought in, it almost attached something to me.
That night when I got home, I was dreadfully paranoid all throughout the night. As I looked down my hallway, it was as though it another pit of scared thinking, strained breathing, and god-forsaken uneasiness. My dreams were the worst part; here’s a journal entry I wrote regarding them:
“Had some really disturbing dreams last night. Let me begin: In the first one, I was ringed by a sphere of horrible faces all around me. It was though they had been modeled with clay, they held no expression whatsoever. Some of them, I was able to see and eye or a nose, but other than that, they were just merely formless faces.
I could also tell they were suffering, that they were being tormented in some way. The second one was more or less a continuation of the first, but at least held more meaning for me. I saw bears. It was like backwards kids cartoon, and all the happy dancing bears were now sad and demented. They screamed as they burnt in odd flames; dancing around me. It watched as their smiles were forcefully painted into frowns. And, my God, there was a music, I can’t even begin to talk about it, it was monotonous and wrong. I'll leave it at that.
When I had awoken that morning, as cliché as it may sound, I swore that I saw what looked to be the outline of a presence standing at my bed.
When I returned to work the next day, beginning the process of cleansing my mind of the impurities of the night before, I was met with a deadly confrontation of my fears when I stepped into work. Passing by the B wing, my eyes gazed over into the room of the child from the day before, the one who was having a seizure. I stood there in shock, spotting what was laying on the white bedside table... The images of the bear I saw in my dream.
In horrible, almost otherworldly handwriting read, "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, what do you see?" all around the edges of the page, with the grotesque picture in the center.
It was like that story from when you were a child, you remember that classic line, don't you?
“Brown Bear, Brown Bear, what do you see?”
I could tell that his drawing somewhat resembled Brown Bear, I could see his shining amber coat, and a few features of his face, his roaring stature. But the overall picture was… morbid. It was wrong, wrong in a way that I can’t explain.
And so due to this I resigned.
And ever since that night, I've been plagued with experiences that I never thought I would have. I wake up every night and see something at the edge of my bed, but then slowly watch as it fades before my eyes. As if it were all fake... But I know it's not.
Please, I hope none of you go through this.