The Haunting Birthing of Echo

In the eerie silence of the abandoned birthing ward, the cold, stale air whispered secrets of a bygone era. The once bustling hospital had long since been abandoned, its halls echoing with the memories of countless lives touched by joy and sorrow. Now, it was a place where the living dared not venture, for the spirits of the departed lingered, bound to the places where they met their end.

Amidst the cobwebs and dust, a faint light flickered through the broken window. It was a beacon for those who dared to seek refuge in the desolate building. One such person was Eliza, a young woman with a hollowed expression and eyes that held the weight of the world. She was on the brink of giving birth, and the pain was relentless. Her husband, Tom, had driven her to the old hospital in the hopes of finding a place to deliver their child, but the maternity ward had been shut down years ago.

As they pushed through the creaky doors, Eliza felt a shiver run down her spine. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and the silence was oppressive. They reached the delivery room, and Tom helped her onto the bed. The doctor's tools were long gone, but the bed was still there, a relic of a forgotten time.

Eliza's breaths grew shallow as the contractions intensified. She clutched Tom's hand, her nails biting into his skin. "I can't do this," she whispered. "We need to get out of here."

Tom looked around frantically, searching for an exit. Just then, a soft, eerie sound echoed through the room. It was a wailing, but it was not human. It was a haunting cry, one that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Eliza's eyes widened with fear. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice trembling.

The sound grew louder, more insistent. A figure began to appear through the fog that seemed to hover around the room. It was a woman, her belly round and her hair disheveled. Her eyes were wide with terror, and her face was twisted in a grotesque expression of pain.

"Help me," she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I can't... I can't do this."

Eliza's heart raced as she realized the woman was a ghost, a pregnant spirit trapped in the birthing ward. The woman's eyes met Eliza's, and in them, Eliza saw a mirror of her own fear and desperation.

"Please," the ghost implored, "save me."

Tom, driven by a mixture of fear and love, pushed Eliza out of the room. They ran through the hospital, dodging shadows and avoiding the eerie sounds that seemed to follow them. They reached the front doors, and Tom pushed them open, the cold night air rushing in to replace the oppressive silence.

Eliza collapsed to the ground, her body drained of strength. Tom knelt beside her, his face pale and eyes wide with terror. "We have to get help," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

As they made their way to the nearest hospital, the ghost followed them, her cries growing fainter as they moved away from the haunted ward. Eliza's contractions ceased, and she looked up at Tom with a mixture of relief and fear. "What happened?" she asked.

Tom looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "There was a ghost," he said. "A pregnant ghost who needed help."

Eliza shuddered, her mind racing with the events of the night. "Why didn't she just go to the other hospital?"

Tom sighed. "I think she was trapped. She was bound to that place, just like we were."

Eliza looked around, her eyes searching the darkness. "Then she's still here."

Tom nodded. "Yes. We have to go back."

They returned to the old hospital, their hearts pounding with a mix of fear and resolve. As they approached the delivery room, the ghost appeared once more, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered.

Eliza and Tom exchanged a look, and without a word, they helped the ghost to her feet. Together, they walked out of the hospital, the ghost's cries fading into the night.

As they reached the safety of the new hospital, Eliza gave birth to a healthy baby boy. The child's cry was a testament to the strength of life, and the bond between mother and child was unbreakable.

The ghost, now free from her haunting, vanished into the night, her story a chilling reminder of the power of love and the enduring connection between the living and the dead.

Eliza and Tom named their son Echo, a name that held the echoes of the haunted birthing ward and the ghost who had reached out to them in their darkest hour. The boy grew up hearing the story of his mother's miraculous delivery, and he often asked about the ghost who had been so desperate to be free.

And so, the story of Echo and the Pregnant Ghost was passed down through generations, a haunting tale of love, loss, and the enduring power of hope.