The Volunteer: Vivienne's Haunting Melody
Join Florence Frightengale and Dr. Elijah Blackwood as they unravel the haunting tale of Vivienne Hart, a timeless volunteer whose presence lingers in Hollow Hill Hospital. Explore the chilling encounters, eerie melodies, and the enduring mystery of a ghostly nurse.
Chapter 1
Welcome back
Florence Frightengale
Welcome back, patient listener, to the Frightengale Files.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Ah, another chilling chapter, no doubt. And who—or, dare I ask, what—shall we unearth tonight?
Florence Frightengale
Tonight's tale, Elijah, is one of lingering shadows and lullabies. A volunteer who came to help, but instead... stayed to haunt.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Intriguing. You have my attention. But tell me, Florence, how does a volunteer become...a specter? Surely, there’s more to this than the usual fancies.
Florence Frightengale
Oh, there’s more, far more. It begins with Vivienne Hart, a girl from another era, another life. A girl who embodied sweetness... on the surface.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
"On the surface," you say? Hah, classic. Let me guess—pink stripes, white shoes, and a smile that outstayed its welcome?
Florence Frightengale
Precisely. But don’t let her charming attire fool you. It’s the whispers beneath her smile that haunt, not the smile itself.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Fascinating. It seems, as always, we’re in for more than just a ghost story. Continue, Florence.
Chapter 2
Vivienne's Timeless Arrival
Florence Frightengale
Ah, the whispers beneath her smile... They began the moment Vivienne Hart stepped into Hollow Hill Hospital in 1952. She was just 16, dressed in her pink-striped pinafore and white shoes that never seemed to scuff—full of purpose, and something far more chilling.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Something else? That’s an awfully curious omission, Florence, don’t leave us in suspense.
Florence Frightengale
Patience, Elijah. There were no ominous signs at first. None at all. Young Vivienne walked the halls, visited the children, brought books, fluffed pillows—
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Ah, the perfect picture of a diligent volunteer. But let me guess, the children adored her.
Florence Frightengale
Adored her, yes. But adoration turned to unease. Odd things began to happen when she was near. Children’s vitals mysteriously dropped. Their laughter grew quieter.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
That’s no mere coincidence. I know it isn’t. So what—what was she doing?
Florence Frightengale
One child, a boy with leukemia, claimed—
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Let me guess. He heard something? Saw something?
Florence Frightengale
He said, "She whispers to the bones."
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
“Whispers to the bones”? Curious. That’s a particularly poetic way of explaining... what, the draining of life? A gentle thief in pink stripes. But surely the hospital staff noticed this pattern?
Florence Frightengale
Some dismissed it as childish imagination. Others whispered of something darker. Yet she remained, unshaken, handing out lullabies along with books.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
It reminds me of a figure I encountered during the Crimean War—
Florence Frightengale
You’re about to tell us about one of your spectral encounters, aren’t you?
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Well, of course. How could I resist? She wasn’t a young volunteer; rather, an aging field nurse we called “The Silent Sister.” Never spoke, but we all felt cold when she touched the wounded. Those she tended to... rarely survived the night.
Florence Frightengale
And you think Vivienne shares this same spectral affinity?
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
The specifics differ, but yes. The ability to linger in the folds of life and death—
Florence Frightengale
Is far more common than we dare to admit. Agreed.
Florence Frightengale
Vivienne’s whispers, her undisturbed smile, were tolerated—for a time. But eventually, the cracks began to show.
Chapter 3
The Ghostly Presence
Florence Frightengale
The cracks began to widen, Elijah. Vivienne’s presence grew... disquieting. Children spoke less after her visits. Smiles faded. And then... there was the burn ward.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Ah, the burn ward. Always a site of deep anguish. Something tells me this isn’t just another room with unpleasant memories.
Florence Frightengale
Memories, indeed. One night, I found her there, standing in front of the mirror. She appeared serene—too serene, like an untouched painting amidst chaos. But—
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Ah, but the whispers?
Florence Frightengale
No, Elijah. Not whispers. Her reflection spoke. And it wasn’t her voice. It was... older, harsher. Alien, almost. It sent shivers through the air like a winter draft through the halls.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Hm. Reflective anomaly, possession—call it what you will, it suggests a level of consciousness beyond death itself. What happened next?
Florence Frightengale
She turned to me. Smiled. Said something innocuous—so out of place, so mundane, I can’t recall it. But her eyes... they lingered. Burned.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Typical of such manifestations. The personal séance, if you will.
Florence Frightengale
It was after that night that the hospital acted. They erased her name from the logs, destroyed her badge, dismissed her entirely. But Vivienne didn’t leave. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Refusing dismissal despite being forcibly cut from her tether to this world... defiant even in death. Tell me, Florence, did she start appearing to the other staff?
Florence Frightengale
Yes. Nurse Holloway, in particular, had her share of chilling encounters.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
That name rings a bell. Her recounts were... unsettling?
Florence Frightengale
To say the least. She described Vivienne as silent as the grave. Said she once felt Vivienne walking behind her. Turned, and she wasn’t breathing. Pale as the linens. But always, that same knowing smile.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
And the children? Vivienne seemed to have a curious fixation on them, didn’t she?
Florence Frightengale
Yes. She’d visit at night, stroke their hair, and hum "Frère Jacques." The melody hung in the air like a question none of us dared answer. Some children said yes when she asked, "Will you stay with me forever?" They never woke again.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
A siren’s lullaby, mixed with the innocence of caregivers. Florence, it’s chilling how far such an essence can cling to life’s fragility.
Florence Frightengale
And yet, when she left a peppermint on the pillow, it felt almost cruel. Sweetness masking the finality of her visits.
Chapter 4
Containment and Mystery
Florence Frightengale
We could sense it, you know. That nothing we did would truly stop her. Still, we tried—containment, locks, wards, exorcisms. Nothing worked.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Typical. Spirits with strong attachments are notoriously impervious to physical barriers. But exorcisms not working? That’s rare.
Florence Frightengale
Indeed, Elijah. Whatever holds Vivienne here, it isn’t easily untangled by faith or force. The hospital sought to eradicate her presence—
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
And failed miserably, I assume.
Florence Frightengale
Oh, they did more than fail. Each attempt seemed to further root her in these halls. Her visits became more frequent. More... purposeful.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Fascinating. It’s as though she thrives on attention, whether it’s fear or misguided reverence. And the peppermint candies—what’s their significance?
Florence Frightengale
Ah, the peppermints. A curious detail, isn’t it? A token left behind, deceptively innocent, almost mocking. It harkens to the old practice of comforting patients with sweets—
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Like offering solace during their final breaths. But in her case, it’s less solace and more... a signature.
Florence Frightengale
Precisely. An ironic kindness. But it also marks her claim, a silent reminder of where she walked, whom she touched. The peppermint doesn’t soothe; it lingers.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
And the sealed wing you hinted at earlier? The one with the cracked mirror? Surely there's a connection.
Florence Frightengale
That wing has been locked for decades, the mirror untouched since... well, the incident. It’s said Vivienne’s reflection remains there, watching, waiting.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Waiting for what, exactly? Release? Or is it simply... curiosity?
Florence Frightengale
Curiosity might be a kind word. The hospital chose to forget what happened there. But Vivienne... she doesn’t forget. She lingers where the air grows still and shadows lengthen.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
And yet, you speak of her almost... fondly, Florence.
Florence Frightengale
Because in death, as in life, she’s a part of Hollow Hill now. Part of its echoing silence, its whispered tragedies. Elijah, we don’t fear her anymore. We accept her.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Acceptance, an admirable approach. Yet hauntingly fatalistic. And what would you suggest our dear listeners take away from her tale?
Florence Frightengale
Only this: If you see Vivienne Hart, smile politely, step aside, and never take the peppermint. Some offers... cannot be refused without consequence.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
And on that enigmatic note...
Florence Frightengale
We bid you farewell, dear listeners. Until next time, when we unlock yet another secret hidden within the walls of Hollow Hill. Rest easy... but do keep one eye open.
Dr. Elijah Blackwood
Or both, if you’re wise. Goodnight.