"Doctor! Doctor!"

A torrent of tiny bangs shuddered the door. Zach leaned up and tried to focus on the clock. 3:00AM.

"Doctor! Doctor!"

Zach threw off the covers and jabbed his feet into his slippers. The world was still cloudy from the fog of slumber. He grabbed his robe, his medicine bag, and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Doctor! Doctor!"

Zach opened the door. A tiny girl, not more than six years old, was standing there with streaks of tears raining down her tiny face. The chill of the night air rushed at him.

He knelt down. "Little girl, are you all right?"

"Doctor! My mommy! My mommy!" She shook as she forced the words out.

"Is your mommy okay?"

She grabbed his hand. "My mommy! My mommy!" She pulled him from across the threshold and into the cold night.

The little girl led Zach down the street and past the town hall. It was a small town and a jog in any one direction would bring you to the town's boundaries abruptly. Zach was the only doctor in town and was used to house calls, but rarely were there any emergencies.

"What happened to your mommy? Did she fall down? Is she sick?"

"My mommy! My mommy!" was all the little girl could manage. Her sobs echoed in the darkness. That, and the shuffle of their frenzied footsteps were the only sounds that disturbed the night.

The little girl had long black hair that flowed behind her as she ran. It almost floated in the air. Her eyes were deep and dark, like puppy-dog eyes, and her hands were as cold as the night.

She led him to a small, decrepit house at the edge of town. Zach tried to recollect what he remembered of its occupants. A woman and her daughter lived here. Both were sickly and he had given them some medicine. They never returned, so he figured they had gotten better. Perhaps that wasn't the case.

The little girl pushed past the front door and raced up the stairs. Zach scrambled in tow. The house was black, save a few candles that dared to flicker. His shadow ambled up the stairs after him.

At the top of the stairs was the bedroom. The little girl's mother was lying in bed. The air was stale and musky. Her gray hair was strewn all about. Sweat trickled down her brow and soaked her pillow. She was coughing violently. A pile of bloody tissues were scattered at the side of the bed.

Zach came to her side and opened his bag. The woman opened her eyes wide and gazed at the him. "D-d-doctor??"

"Shhh, save your strength." He felt her forehead. The heat almost singed his palm. "I gave you some medicine long ago. Did you take it all?"

She nodded between coughs.

Zach reached into his bag and pulled out another bottle of medicine. "This will help for a little while, until I can go home to get the proper medicine. Here, take this."

He dropped two pills into her limp hand. She slowly brought it to her mouth. Zach ran to the bathroom for a glass of water. She barely made it to her mouth when he returned.

"You need some water. Drink this."

She coughed again and spit blood into a tissue, then took the pills and water. Zach watched her painfully swallow the cool water. Her audible gulp shook the room.

Then, with a tear in her eye, she turned to the doctor. "Th-th-thank you for c-c-coming."

"Don't thank me. Thank your daughter. You're lucky she came to me in time. You should be very proud of her."

The woman blinked. "Th-th-that's imp-p-possible…" She shivered under the covers and the tear rolled down her cheek. "My d-d-daughter is d-d-dead…"

Zach looked behind him and saw only his shadow on the wall. A cold chill blew through his body.

. . .

Do you know any ghost stories?