Essay on A Night To Remember in English

By | May 15, 2019

Night is the time for rest and comfort. Unlike the body the mind is busy in sleep. A good memory forgets everything that is irrelevant. But there are some incidents that always cling to the mind and bring us out of depths. Such was the experience that I can never forget.

I had been admitted into the hospital for treatment of typhoid fever. My room, a private ward, was opposite to the operation theater. I was recovering from the fever, but was too weak to walk. It was Friday night. I very well remember it. The clock had struck thirteen hours. Sleep being out of question, I was tossing on my hot bed. A weeping bulb was glowing in the operation theater. The dead body of a young lady was resting on the operation table.

She had died and was declared dead by the doctors. The corpse was waiting to be removed. Death dread had already gripped my mind. There was the traffic of strange thoughts through my sick mind. Indeed, death is the best physician. The unfortunate lady, after a month’s confinement, slept the sleep that knew no waking. Mourning and wailing had dropped a curtain on her life.

Suddenly my eyes turned towards the operation theater. The corpse, yes, the corpse! was lifeless. I perceived that there was some motion in the white sheet. Then the body began to stir. Oh! no, she had been dead. It slowly began to sit up. [the_ad id=”17141″]

I could not believe my own eyes. I was in cold sweat. I tried to tear my gaze form it, but could not do so. It held my attention. Then followed the most terrible scene-the body moved · and started walking in the room.

I began to tremble with fear and shrieked loudly. I covered my eyes with my trembling hands. It stumbled against the furniture in the room. Then it advanced towards my room. I felt as if time had stopped. I had been overcome by fear of death that keeps no calendar.

Suddenly I cried, ‘Help; Help!’ the ghost laughed at me. I sat spellbound, as if in a trance. Everything was in a whirlpool. Soon the nurse came running into my room. She was too sleepy to understand me. She held me by my hand and tried to pacify me. I clung to her and began to sob. Then I summoned the courage and muttered. She, She, dead. Can’t you see her walking? She comforted me by saying: you are sick and unwell. She was as sure as death about the incident.

I was not well indeed. I collected by wits. It was a nightmare only. But I could not vanish the sight from my mind. I still remember the dreadful night. It is true: thinking makes us what we are. A disturbed mind can not think well.

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