Please wait...

The Old School Night Nurse

Estimated reading time — 7 minutes

This all happened when I was 13. Things weren’t great at home, And I drifted into the habit of going out very late most nights and just walking aimlessly around, exploring the pretty dull town in which I grew up.

My parents went to bed early since they had actual responsibilities, so it was pretty easy to say I was going to watch TV at a friends house, and stay out til the small hours, creeping into bed well after midnight.

There was a girl in my classes called Janet, who I didn’t think had ever even noticed me previously; she was stunningly attractive and witty and warm and generally perfect, and I was very much invisible to girls, invisible to most people in fact. Don’t ask me how this came about as I am unsure myself, but we began to meet up on some of these nocturnal excursions, though we were never more than friends. I guess she must’ve been a fellow night-owl, or maybe she was just bored like I was.

I had no idea how to talk to girls, but I must have done something right as somehow she seemed to like me, though I am hardly what you would call a ladies man. I sure as hell liked her. We got into a routine whereby she’d slip me a note in school with something scribbled like “meet me by the shop at nine o’ clock” and we’d hang around in the dark and talk about dumb things.

It was the sort of town where everything shut down at night and so we had the roads, parks and cemetery to ourselves; she’d show me the house she grew up in and I’d tell her about some local ghosts and legends that I’d half invented myself. We’d usually gravitate towards our school, which is surrounded now by a seven-foot chain-link fence like a concentration camp, but in those days anyone could wander around the paths & grounds, with a big playing field and forest at the rear. There were benches and bike-sheds if we needed to rest or shelter. We were still just about young enough to have a good time without cigarettes and alcohol.

So one night we had arranged to meet as normal, and I I stood over the road from the corner shop that was the only place in town still open so late, sorta watching from the shadows as sometimes one of the staff would see me, and storm outside to tell me to get lost. But Janet never showed, which was the first time. I gave her another hour and left pretty hurt & angry, which in hindsight was an over-reaction; In all probability she’d wanted to come meet me, but maybe her parents had stopped her, or something had come up. Neither of us could afford a mobile phone which were still for the rich kids back then.

I couldn’t really hang around waiting any longer anyway as it was October, and cold enough so that even an indestructible teen like me could feel the chill. I wandered aimlessly until about midnight, when I wound up sat on an old bench overlooking our school, at the top of some long, gradual steps which led down to one of several entrances to the sprawling school structures.

I was miserable and dejected and could see my own breath, for like an idiot I was always under-dressed for the cold British weather, with only a thin sports jacket over a t-shirt. I was one of those kids who never needed much of a shove to sulk and strop, so I sat and shivered and felt sorry for myself. Thoughts flashed through my head of suicide or self-harm, until I noticed there was a light on, at the bottom of the steps, which, strangely, I hadn’t noticed earlier.

The dim light shone through a small window in a door which led into the school science block. This was bizarre; no-one should’ve been inside the school at this hour. I sometimes stayed late with a detention and even a couple of hours after the students left for the day, there were no cleaners or teachers left around, the place was eerily deserted and as quiet as the grave.


I decided to go and have a closer look, I don’t think I would have done if I wasn’t in such a lousy mood; I guess I figured that the evening could not get any worse. So I made my way down the steps to the pale yellow glow which seemed comforting, like a sanctuary from everything wrong with the world. My curiosity was “off the scale” too; Maybe this something exciting like a robbery in progress, or some older kids who’d broke in looking for someplace warm to get high.

The door to the school wasn’t locked, and I saw the light was coming from another door leading to a room beneath some stairs, which I hadn’t ever really noticed before. I cautiously entered into a nurse’s station of sorts, a small room with a couple of old battered school chairs and a mirror on the walk over a sink. It was stiflingly warm inside, though I saw no radiator and heard no heater. There were a couple of ancient yellowing posters on the walls about not passing on flu germs or something similar.

Just before I announced my presence, a lady appeared in a small alcove and asked how she could help.

I told her I had seen the light and followed my feet. I realised my thoughts of death and dismemberment were draining, and felt too foolish to tell her of such things. She had a manner about her which screamed that the only love she give was of the tough variety. So I said I wasn’t sure what I wanted, and politely enquired about her presence.

She told me she was always there at night, as a crisis nurse, without going into specifics, and I was too shy to ask any more questions. It was a small town, and the school also acted as kind of a community centre too, serving as a voting station and blood donation centre, that sort of thing. So to my naive 13-year old mind, her story sort-of checked out.

She was tiny, literally four feet tall, and dressed like someone from the Salvation army, with a khaki shirt & shorts, old-fashioned sandals and a dark crimson sash around her stocky chest. I never once saw her smile, but didn’t really see this as strange or unfriendly until I thought about it later, also reflecting on how her language was cold for a nurse; they always call you “love” or “dear”, ask nice friendly questions and seem to want to talk, enjoy it even. Her attitude was formal and businesslike.


There was an awkward silence before she suggested that I must’ve known know why I had arrived there, so I said that I guessed I lacked direction, which was a stupid thing to say, but it seemed appropriate somehow. She said she was part of a team, who people could turn to when they felt alone, or under-valued. Showing no emotion, she began to speak of pills which might help. I mumbled some vague agreement, a little bewildered as I knew nothing really of medication back then, and she disappeared back around the corner from where she had first emerged. I could hear cupboards and drawers opening and tablets rattling in plastic jars.

She told me she had just the thing to make me feel better, and spoke of doses and suchlike, but while she was talking in her low, soft and slightly gravelly voice, I began to pay attention to my growing sense of dread. It dawned on me that I did not like this woman at all. Something was very wrong with the entire situation. Worse, I sensed that I was in real danger there, and that I had to leave immediately.

So while she was still in the back, rummaging and muttering, I slipped straight out the door and hurried home to bed, not looking back once. I have no more memories of that night.

When I awoke, the whole thing seemed unreal, with my recollection rapidly disintegrating, details vague like in my dreams. I probably would’ve dismissed the whole thing as some bad nightmare if it were not for the breaking news at school that morning.

Janet had vanished in the night. She had gone out to meet someone and never returned. Everyone was talking about it. The speculation was predictably ridiculous, a smorgasbord of half-baked theories and vindictive gossip.

They held an emergency assembly for everyone in our year, with a police officer stood on the stage urging us to come forward if we knew or heard of anything even vaguely strange or suspicious. Afterwards, officers spoke privately to some of Janet’s closest friends; she had quite a few, she was always very well-liked. Of course, they didn’t bother speaking to me, as no-one had a clue about our late night rendezvous. In fact, no-one even knew I existed. I did wonder if anyone would have even believed me if I had come forward to say that I’d been meeting with Janet. I probably would’ve been dismissed as an attention-seeker.


Or maybe they’d have seen me as the prime suspect. “Weird, shambling misanthrope meets popular, pretty girl.” The thought did cross my mind. And how could I have told anybody about what had happened to me that very same night? They’d have pegged me as “insane” and thrown me to the wolves, one way or another.

Strangely enough, Janet was very rarely mentioned by anyone again afterwards. No anniversaries were marked. Her close friends quickly began to talk about other things. A couple of weeks and things were back to normal.

Except… about a year later, one of our teachers took down some old posters, and beneath one was a bright scribble in permanent marker pen about Janet, some stupid insult. The teacher froze for a few moments, then remarked quietly on how she couldn’t remember Janet’s surname. Then she dismissed the whole thing and carried on with her day. I turned around to look back at the rest of the class, but no-one else was even listening.

That was the last time I heard anyone say her name. She has seemingly ceased to exist, which is strange to say the least. The police seemed to drop the case pretty soon and an internet search throws up no record of her at all. I have no way of knowing if she got mixed up with the weird old woman I encountered that night, but the whole thing seems too bizarre to be coincidental. But for all I know, Janet ran away to join the circus. It is maddeningly vague. I did discreetly ask if the school ran some sort of late-night therapy service for troubled teens, but you can probably guess the answer.

I really should’ve gone and said something to Janet’s parents, as I considered myself at least partly responsible for her disappearance. But I was far too immature and awkward to ever have confronted them. What a total wimp. And that is the end of the story. The end of Janet, I guess.

I’ve since moved to a new town but sometimes I return to revisit the places where me and Janet would go to on those few fleeting late summer nights. The school is still there. It’s been pretty heavily redeveloped in recent years, every part seems totally different except for those long, gradual steps down to the old science block. I walk past every once in a while, and I stand above those steps and stare down at the school, and I still wonder what the hell happened.

Credit: Hack Shuck

Please wait...

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.

34 thoughts on “The Old School Night Nurse”

  1. omg this is so good and so creepy.!!!!!!!!! please make a part 2, it would be really awesome and this is one of the best creepypasta i ever read!!!!!!!!!!!!

  2. I am not normally so harsh about grammar mistakes, but this was too much. It makes you take time to skip over them. And about the fact that this is fiction, you’re right. This can’t be true, obviously. However, human behavior has to be realistic and the story as to be a mix between reality and something supernatural inserted in everyday life. In the end, it has to make sense, even if it’s fiction.

  3. I’m sorry to have to say this so directly, but this was the worst pasta I ever read. This was not creepy at all and didn’t even make sense. He felt creeper just because of a nurse with a strange character and then nothing happened about the nurse. There was nothing at all to connect the nurse with Janet’s disappearance. Not even a clue to at least let us use our minds to think of a conclusion. Also some parts were very unrealistic. He immediately starts to think of suicide just because she didn’t show up only one time? To make things worse, the writing style keeps blocking the flow of the story, throwing the reader off the story every time and creating confusion. There were also a lot of grammar mistakes. First of all, you don’t use ‘&’ instead of ‘and’ while writing a story. There were also a lot of grammar mistakes and accidental repetition of words such as ‘I I’. You also used ‘known’ and ‘know’ after each other which made me destroy my mind over what that sentence meant to be. Also, you don’t start sentences with ‘And’ or ‘So’. You kept doing that all the time and created more confusion. 1/10 from me.

    1. Why do I take the fact that you didn’t like my story as the greatest compliment I have ever received? Look forward to my next tale: The Pasta Police.

  4. i liked it, i wanna see part 2 where the guy is in the town again and drives past the school at night and see’s the same light he saw when Janet went missing but the nurse is Janet this time. Scary

    1. That is genius! I might have to steal that.
      I’m probably being silly, but I didn’t want to invent a neat conclusion or twist out of respect for Janet and her friends & family, in case someone who knew her ever reads this.

  5. It does kinda come from nowhere and go nowhere, and just vaguely wanders round the streets inbetween… I get that you don’t have the answers, and that wouldn’t really have mattered if you’d managed to build up some kind of feeling with the story. The teenage kid is fine – we get that he’s an outcast/awkward/typical teenager, but that’s the only emotion I got from the whole story. It wasn’t scary, it wasn’t mysterious, it wasn’t a cliff hanger – and it could have been all of these. The story being based on true events, I think, really gives you room to concentrate on the icky, weird feelings you experienced, or the horrifying scenarios and mad conjectures you would have gone through in your head trying to figure out the story and work out what happened to what was literally your only friend? I mean, if you were compelled to write about it then surely it made you feel something? But we’re left not knowing ANYTHING except the chronology of events and how stroppy the kid was…. 3/10 :(

  6. I’ve read the author’s comments here. That’s the thing with true paranormal stories… You simply don’t get the answers you want. A few years ago, a grain of rice came sailing out of the kitchen, hit me in the shoulder, rolled down my body and under my thigh, and I dug it out and showed everyone in the room. “Where did this come from?” I asked. “Who threw this at me?” The only entrances to the kitchen were visible from the living room. No one had gone in or out of the kitchen. In fact, there wasn’t even any rice in the house. Do I get answers? Do I get to know what the hell happened, or why? Of course not. True stories have no answers. I have plenty of unexplainable stories similar to that, like the time when I was 13, at camp, and had to use the bathroom while everyone else was doing some kind of activity. While I was in the stall, every single stall door around me started shaking and rattling. There was no one else there. I can’t prove it. I have no explanation. Or the time when I was alone in my apartment, finished cleaning the kitchen, turned off the light, and went to my room. A few seconds later I remembered that I had forgotten something in the kitchen. Upon returning, the light was on, and the burner covers for my stove were stacked against each other when I KNOW they were each on their respective burners when I’d left. No rhyme, reason, or explanation. It seems that the readers of Creepypasta are so accustomed to fiction that they can’t appreciate a creepy occurance which has actually happened. Having no explanation is the worst part. And if you, dear reader, have no ghost stories of your own, count yourself lucky. Cause no one believes you anyway, and if you tell people, your story is somehow flawed for the lack of explanation. As if those of us with true ghost stories have a choice about that. We want explanations too.

  7. Natalie Krause

    Holly crap u have just left me wanting more info. Every part of me feels u should know what the he’ll happened. Great read!!!!

  8. Kng Li Lin Grace

    I would just like to say, as a true story, I am sorry you lost a good friend this way. And even if this wasn’t a true story, I loved it, because the vague nature makes it sound like a real story, something that is even more frightening because it has happened and there are no answers, no closure for the protagonist . And the uncertainty of the whole thing is the one which will keep this story in my mind for years to come.

  9. Alright, I didn’t know this was suppose to be based off a true story. I never was a fan of these types of pastas, You can’t go crazy with these stories and they end up becoming boring. Sorry

    1. All your points are valid and I completely agree. True stories can be great if there is something to be had of it, but in this case there was nothing I gained from it – just seemed like a random recollection of unremarkable events.

  10. That’s the thing, though. You could have taken license with the story and made the loose ends tie together. Just because this is based on a true story doesn’t mean you can’t add a bit of fabrication to make it a complete story.

    1. That is a good point. I should perhaps have kept the kernel of truth and maybe tied things together in a neater conclusion. To be honest though, I didn’t put much thought into this, I just wrote down my experience and sent it in to this website a few months ago. It’s too late to change things now!

      1. Yeah oh well. I’m actually glad this is a 100% true story. There needs to be more stories like this on this site instead of completely fabricated drivel. Because the truth can be way more terrifying than fiction! Mystery is an awesome part of life. Life would be so boring without it. Did you ever go back and check to see if that room in the science block was still there?

  11. Demelza Requiem

    I liked it. I don’t mind the few errors and minor style issues. It definitely left me wanting a sequal.

  12. Ever heard of the “Mandela Effect”? I think this could be what happened to her. It seemed she “slipped” to a parallel reality, her existence slowly dissipating in ours. I like the whole story but I wish we all knew what happened or at least know who the nurse was and where she came from. The pasta seemed to have ended abruptly.

  13. This was… mildly creepy at best. It sort of sounded like an actual unexplained event, but that doesn’t work well for a creepy pasta, imho. The writing isn’t bad. Might I suggest that if it is a personal experience you attempt to spice it up a bit? Great fiction is built around and fills in the gaps of fact, after all.

    And I have to say (because other comments have been a bit harsh on this)… a 13yo contemplating suicide is more common than any of us would like to believe. We’re pretty much a ball of hormones at that point in our lives and if your family is too busy to notice you and your peers ignore you, it’s pretty easy to get depressed. Whether that kid was you or not, dear author, he was a believable character.

  14. I have to echo the other comments. Connect Janet’s disappearance to the nurse more clearly, and expand on the town forgetting the girl. You’ve got something here, but you’ve got some work ahead of you.


  15. AND? You had me firmly hooked, but then the story veered off into this vague and uncertain plot line. You imply that the night nurse and Janet’s disappearance were somehow connected but you don’t follow up on that. For all we know, Janet did go join the circus, and what’s creepy about that?

    We should find out something, or at least have enough hints to have a pretty good idea of what is going on. As is, I’m afraid it merely has lots of undeveloped potential.

  16. I have to agree with Monika, this story is too vague to be enjoyable; you tried to tie things together but also played it safe by claiming Janet “could have run away with the circus”, which takes away from the creepiness.

  17. Weird that someone supposedly popular like Janet is just forgotten so quickly… I think it has something to do with the town.

    Plot. Popular kid hangs out with unpopular kid, creepy strangers, disappeances and a hint of forget me not. All pretty cliche ideas, but can still be enjoyable if done right.

    Grammar. “and I I stood over the road” Just pointing that out.

    Writing Style. It kept breaking it’s own flow, usually when you start a sentence with the word “so”. Sentence structure also needs to be looked over. Really needs some work.

    Protagonist. This kid sure is messed up, 13 years of age and he’s already thinking of killing himself or getting out the razor. All because Janet didn’t arrive. Talk about not being able to handle rejection. Kid need a psychiatrist.

    Antagonist. Can we really call the nurse an Antagonist? She didn’t really do much, she just had a serious personality, almost emotionless. We find out there is no night staff so she’s probably a ghost, but nothing ever happens with her. Seems like a missed opportunity.

    Ending. Again, how can we link the disappeance of Janet to the ghost nurse? It looks like nothing more than a coincidence. This kid is not cut out for solving mysteries if he just draws conclusions from nothing.

    4/10. You have something here, it just needs a lot of extra touches to actually make it captivating for the reader.

  18. I don’t know how to explain, but the plot in your pasta seemed to be very vague. It leaves an impression that presence of nurse and disappearance of Janet was merely a coincidence, and all the suspicion was just because of overactive imagination of 13 year old kid.
    It could be only my opinion, but for me this pasta didn’t work.
    Although the words and feelings described was a good work; i felt it realistic.

  19. Hmm, I also wonder what happened.
    Some grammar mistakes but it did make me wonder what happened to her.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Scroll to Top