“The Woman Behind the Curtain” Horror Stories

“The Woman Behind the Curtain”

Melisa, a 34-year-old woman who is elegant, serious, and preoccupied with her work, finds herself in the hospital. The sterile smell of antiseptic floats in the air as Melisa settles into the hospital bed, her eyes fixed on her phone screen. Work emails, updates, and endless tasks pile up in her digital world. Despite her kidney problems that brought her to the hospital, Melisa couldn’t stop immersing herself in work. It was the only thing that mattered, the only constant in her life that she could control.

Melisa remained sitting in the hospital bed, occasionally writhing in pain but not paying much attention to it. The day passed uneventfully, with nurses coming in and out to administer medication and check her vital signs. Melisa noticed that the bed next to hers was separated by a curtain; everything was silent. She assumed the other patient was asleep and didn’t think much of it—after all, Melisa was focused on finishing her work. However, Melisa, being so hostile, asked a nurse,

“Can I have a private room for the night? I don’t like sharing; I can pay for it,” she said, her gaze fixed on the curtain.

Just as the nurse was about to respond, a patient in the adjacent room suffered a cardiac arrest. Without hesitation, the doctor abandoned the conversation and rushed to the neighboring patient’s aid, with her heart racing and her sense of urgency at its peak.

Melisa sighed exasperatedly, shot an annoyed glance, and returned to her work with a slight roll of her eyes.

As the afternoon faded, the room grew quieter, and shadows lengthened. The nurses dimmed the lights and made their final rounds. The on-duty doctor entered with the last dose of antibiotics, reminding Melisa to rest. With an indifferent nod, she accepted, though her mind remained occupied with pending matters.

When she finally turned off her phone and placed it on the bedside table, the room fell into an unsettling silence. She closed her eyes, trying to force herself to sleep, but anxiety gnawed at her. That’s when she heard it—a low, guttural moan from the other side of the curtain.

Melisa’s eyes flew open, her breath catching in her throat. She lay still, straining to listen, convinced it was just her imagination. But the sounds grew louder, more desperate—cries of pain mingled with muffled sobs. The bed on the other side of the curtain creaked as if the person were writhing in agony.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she forced herself to speak. “Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly, her voice trembling.

“You should call the doctor.”

A heavy silence followed, as if the very air had been sucked out of the room. Melisa held her breath, waiting for a response, but none came. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the unease. Maybe the person was too weak to respond. Or maybe, she thought, help had already been summoned. Her rational mind wanted to dismiss it, but something gnawed at her subconscious—a persistent feeling that something was deeply wrong.

She turned, pulling the thin hospital blanket up to her chin, trying to ignore the unsettling noises. Eventually, sleep overcame her, but it was restless, fragmented by disturbing dreams she couldn’t quite recall.

A few hours later, Melisa jolted awake to a sound that chilled her blood—violent retching followed by the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting. Again, she heard cries of pain and desperation from behind the curtain. Melisa sat up quickly, her heart racing as the reality of the situation sank in.

Panic overcame her as she called out again, this time with more urgency.

“Can I help you? What do you need? I’ll call the nurse.”

A weak, sorrowful, and raspy voice responded,

“No… I just need my daughter to be here with me, but she hasn’t wanted to visit.”

The response plunged the room into absolute silence. Melisa didn’t know what to say. The old, fragile voice was filled with profound sadness. An overwhelming sense of dread washed over her as she stared at the curtain, her eyes widening at the sight of a shadowy figure sitting on the neighboring bed. The dim hallway light cast the silhouette of an elderly woman with disheveled hair, hunched as if in suffering.

Melisa couldn’t tear her gaze away from the shadow. It was like something out of a nightmare. She could feel the weight of the woman’s gaze upon her, though she couldn’t see her face.

Then, the room was filled with another sound—footsteps echoing in the dark hallway, growing ever closer. The rhythmic tapping of shoes on the floor made her heart race. She turned toward the door, expecting to see someone enter, but the entrance remained empty. The footsteps stopped just outside her room, but no one appeared.

A cold sweat covered her forehead as she turned her head back to the curtain. The shadowy figure was now standing, its faint outline barely visible in the dim light. The air felt heavy, suffocating, as if something invisible was pressing down on her.

Melisa reached for the bedside lamp, her hand trembling as she searched for the switch, but the light wouldn’t work. She repeatedly pressed the switch, but it remained unresponsive. Melisa turned her gaze gently towards the curtain, and the elderly woman was standing in front of her, arms stiff and a complete silence.

A chill ran down Melisa’s spine as the two women in the room remained motionless, though their faces were unseen, they knew they were looking at each other. The only sounds in the room were the beeping of hospital machines, but then the elderly woman behind the curtain began to cough uncontrollably. The coughing fit became so intense that Melisa was sure the woman would choke to death.

Her eyes widened in horror as the shadow reappeared, this time falling to its knees, convulsing with each painful cough. The curtain still obscured the woman’s face, but Melisa could see the outline of her frail, trembling body. Melisa acted quickly, pressing the emergency button without hesitation, but no one came. She became increasingly frightened as the elderly woman continued to cough on the floor.

Paralyzed by fear, she watched as the woman’s coughing subsided into weak, gasping breaths. The room fell into an unnatural silence, broken only by Melisa’s own ragged breathing. She felt as if she were suffocating under the weight of the darkness, her mind spinning as she tried to understand what was happening.

The shadowy figure remained on its knees, hunched as if defeated. Melisa’s heart ached with a strange mixture of pity and terror. Mysteriously, the elderly woman began to laugh hysterically. Her laughter was chilling. The elderly woman started crawling under her own bed, continuing to laugh as she crawled around. Without hesitation, Melisa turned her back and covered herself with the sheets, keeping her eyes alert but preferring not to look behind her. However, curiosity got the better of her, and this time she saw the shadow of the elderly woman on the bed. She noticed that the gown was up, and the elderly woman began to urinate and defecate on her own bed, making a horrifying straining noise.

The elderly woman slowly turned her head towards Melisa and suddenly said with a weak, raspy voice, “Why isn’t she coming? I just want to see her… before I go.”

The elderly woman began to cry as Melisa watched through the curtain as the woman took her own feces and threw it on the floor.

Melisa’s throat closed up as a wave of fear and despair washed over her.

“Why doesn’t my daughter come? I need her,” cried the elderly woman with a voice full of such sadness and longing that it was unbearable.

Melisa preferred to lie back down, turning away and curling up to try to sleep and forget everything she had witnessed. The silence returned to the room; the cries, moans, and laughter had disappeared.

Melisa fell back asleep, but soon she began to feel a pressure on her chest. She quickly opened her eyes and felt a hand touching her hair while hearing a terrifying laugh beside her. She tried to move, but her body wouldn’t respond. She was terrified, continuing to feel a hand brushing her hair and arms, and the laughter was still beside her. Melisa managed to move one of her feet, and suddenly the elderly woman crouched and crawled quickly beneath the curtain with a mocking laugh.

Melisa noticed a strange smell near her, touched her hair, and found traces of the elderly woman’s feces. Melisa panicked and ran to the bathroom to vomit. The light didn’t work; everything was dark. Melisa couldn’t see clearly but tried to wash her hair with a bit of soap that was in the bathroom.

Melisa was afraid to leave the bathroom, but it was too dark, so she went out into the hospital hallway. There was no one; everything was in total darkness. Melisa gathered her courage and headed towards her bed to find her cell phone. She searched and searched but couldn’t find it. She looked towards the elderly woman’s bed, and there she was, sitting on the bed. Melisa felt the gaze fixed on her and decided to return to the bathroom, even though she couldn’t see anything, and closed the door. There, she huddled and cried, trembling with fear.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, knock, knock.

The terrifying laugh returned.

“I need the bathroom,” said the elderly woman.

“Leave me alone, stay away from me!” Melisa screamed, crying.

Melisa heard the elderly woman move away, crying with very soft footsteps.

Melisa continued crying and trembling with fear.

“I JUST WANT MY DAUGHTER TO COME SEE ME!” screamed the elderly woman from inside the bathroom with Melisa.

The elderly woman’s scream sounded otherworldly. Melisa curled up into a fetal position, screaming and crying.

“Shh, shh, shh,” the elderly woman said with a sinister and mocking tone.

Melisa panicked and couldn’t stop crying.

“Go to bed and sleep,” the elderly woman told Melisa.

This time her voice sounded sweet and gentle.

Melisa was in shock and just got up and lay down on her cot.

It was so dark that Melisa could never see the elderly woman’s face, but she felt a kiss on her head as the elderly woman began to sing a lullaby and walked slowly to her own bed.

The elderly woman’s breathing grew weaker and more labored, each breath sounding like it could be the last. The room seemed colder, the air thick with the presence of something otherworldly. Melisa reached her breaking point when she realized that the elderly woman was dying—right there, on the other side of the curtain, just a few meters away.

The woman spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. “Didn’t she come to see me?”

And with a final sigh, the elderly woman’s presence faded as Melisa remained huddled, trying to comprehend everything that had happened. She fell asleep and was awakened by the nurses with more medication.

“The woman in the other bed died last night,” Melisa told the nurses, still in shock.

The nurse looked at Melisa nervously and walked to the other bed.

“There is no one here, Miss. You were alone all night,” the nurse said to Melisa.

Melisa panicked and looked at the nurse, saying, “I heard her. She was agonizing right here in that bed,” pointing to the curtain.

“It’s impossible, Miss. You were alone all night,” said the nurse as she drew back the curtain and showed that the bed was immaculate and empty.

Melisa panicked and began to scream.

“I need help here, in room 06!” the nurse shouted.

Melisa stopped screaming when she heard the room number.

She walked to the door and looked at the number 06.

“My mother died in this room,” Melisa whispered.

Melisa’s heart skipped a beat as she realized. The woman behind the curtain was her mother. Melisa was the daughter the woman had been waiting for but never came to see.

The thought paralyzed her with a terror she had never felt before. This woman was not just a stranger—she was connected to Melisa in a way that defied explanation. A wave of nausea overwhelmed her as she understood the truth. The woman’s suffering, her longing, her desperation—all were because of Melisa. The woman behind the curtain just wanted to see her daughter one last time.