Gibson Medical Center

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At night, when the lights of Gibson Medical Center flickered off, a soft humming noise would occasionally drift through the air. A delivery driver noticed it first, thinking it might be an old refrigerator in the basement. But no one could figure out where exactly it came from. Finally, someone suggested that maybe it was just the ghost of Dr. Gibson humming his favorite tune. The next day, during a routine maintenance check, they found an old radio playing softly in the supply closet. Everyone had a good laugh—except for the delivery driver who now always brought cookies for the staff.

2. One morning, a delivery driver noticed something peculiar on the clinic’s loading dock—a mysterious box wrapped in brown paper and sealed with twine. No label, no note, just an odd smile from the security guard who shook his head knowingly. Over the next few days, more boxes appeared—each one slightly different but equally unmarked. Finally, a nurse whispered to the delivery driver that it was probably some new equipment for the clinic's secret project. On the fifth day, the last box arrived, and when they opened it, there was only a small note inside: 'Thanks for your patience. Gibson Medical Center.' Turned out it was just a shipment of coffee mugs for the staff.

3. At dawn, while delivering medical supplies, a driver noticed an odd scent wafting from the clinic's loading bay—like freshly baked cookies mixed with antiseptic cleaner. Curious, he peered inside and saw nothing unusual until he caught sight of a small oven in the corner, humming gently. Inside were trays of surgical instruments wrapped in aluminum foil, steaming slightly. Turned out someone had been experimenting with making band-aids out of cookie dough after hours. The neighbor later admitted it was ‘just a little hobby’.

4. In the early hours, as a delivery truck pulled up to Gibson Medical Center's loading bay, the driver spotted something unusual in one of the parked carts—an old, dusty harmonica, its case engraved with the words ‘For Henry’. As he picked it up, an old cassette tape fell out. Curious, he popped it into his truck’s stereo and heard an aged voice singing ‘Oh Mary Don’t You Weep’. Suddenly, a neighbor walking by asked if he needed help. Turned out, she was Henry’s daughter from twenty years ago. They spent the morning catching up over coffee, and now every time someone delivers supplies to Gibson Clinic, they bring along some music for good company.