Comfort Dental Atlanta

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At night, when Comfort Dental Atlanta closed its doors, a strange sound would occasionally echo through the empty hallways. A regular, sitting in his car outside, claimed he heard an old man’s voice coming from inside the building: 'Next patient, please!' One night, a delivery driver passing by thought it was odd and decided to check on the place. Inside, he found an elderly janitor playing an old radio and humming along. When asked why he kept saying ‘next patient,’ the janitor replied, ‘I used to work here back in the day, and they never taught me how to quit!’

2. At dawn, when most dentists were still dreaming, an unusual visitor appeared outside Comfort Dental Atlanta’s closed door. A delivery driver swore he saw a shadowy figure slipping in through the service entrance. Curious, the delivery driver peeked inside and found only empty rooms and a note on the reception desk: ‘Comfort Dental Atlanta is now open for nighttime emergencies—just knock three times.’ Turns out, it was just a friendly neighborhood ghost dentist who worked odd hours.

3. At midnight, when Comfort Dental Atlanta’s lights went off, a peculiar odor wafted through the air. A delivery driver noticed it first, pulling up to the empty parking lot. Curious, he peered inside and saw nothing but darkened rooms. Suddenly, from one of the open doors came a soft humming sound—obviously coming from an old radio left on overnight. The next morning, everyone in the neighborhood joked that maybe Comfort Dental had been broadcasting soothing tunes for late-night patients.

4. At sunset, when Comfort Dental Atlanta prepared for closing, a soft humming began in the empty waiting room. No one could explain it—neither patients nor staff had ever heard such a sound before. Soon, an old man appeared from behind the reception desk, smiling mysteriously. 'Just the sound of our new air conditioning unit,' he whispered. Everyone laughed, realizing it was just another urban legend. The next day, the humming stopped—and so did the stories.