Four walls. Metal floor. Flickering light.
No space to. . .
Breathe. Breathe, Laura. Breathe.
Look again.
Mirrors – the top half of three of the walls are mirrors. The fourth is a sliding door.
I scramble towards it, prising my fingers into the centre crack and pulling.
It won't open.
I'm stuck here. I can't . . .
Breathe. Breathe, Laura. Breathe.
On the adjacent wall - four buttons.
Up, Down. Open. Alarm.
Open. . . ? Open!
On my knees I thrust myself towards it and push.
Nothing.
I push again.
Nothing.
I pound against it.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
I'm stuck here. I can't. . .
Calm down, Laura. Just calm down and breathe.
I slump into the corner opposite the metal door.
I close my eyes.
Listen.
There's a soft creaking sound. And. . .
I'm moving.
What direction?
I look at the buttons. One is illuminated.
Down.
I'm moving down.
I take another deep breath.
Think, Laura. Think.
Elevator!
I'm in an elevator.
Why?
I close my eyes again and try to cast my mind back to before the elevator.
Nothing.
I remember nothing before the elevator.
I take another deep breath and look around again. Suddenly the lights flash off and on again.
My eyes widen.
. . .What is that. . .?!
Every hair on my body stands on end.
How did I not notice it before?
I push myself further into the corner.
There are streaks of dried blood, and deep scratches in the metal doors.
I jerk my gaze around the tight space.
Am I alone?
Breathe, Laura, breathe.
I scamper forwards to inspect the markings.
With a wave of nausea I notice a fragment of a fingernail, crusted with dried blood, on the floor.
A person made these.
But how long would it take to scratch through metal?
I place my fingers inside the welts.
They fit perfectly.
And then I notice.
My fingers are red. Raw.
Scabbed over.
Two fingernails are torn off.
Oh god.
Was it. . .? Did I. . .?
I pick up the fingernail from the floor. I place it on top of the jagged tear in my own.
My throat tightens.
It fits.
Oh god.
How long have I been in the elevator?
Before I can fully comprehend the horror of this question, the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stand on end.
I think I feel the warm breath of someone over my shoulder.
I spin around.
Above I sense a flicker of movement.
Am I alone?!
I look up.
There's no-one there.
YOU ARE READING
The Elevator | A Horror Story
HorrorLaura is trapped in an elevator. She has been there for as long as she can remember. The elevator is going down. She doesn't think she's alone. . . --- A short HORROR story from the author of CUPID'S MATCH and DEVILS INC. Previously featured on Watt...
