The Elevator
The Elevator
Horror filled him as he stepped foot into the elevator. Dread emanated the space, as the door closed. An all too familiar deep seated cold weight came to rest on his shoulders, increasingly weighing him down with each passing moment. A drop of sweat lingered on his brow, as he leaned against the railing, hoping for some reprieve. The floor rose and fell below him, with each audible ping of another passing floor, as if slowly taking breaths, watching him, and taunting him.
He couldn’t resist it any longer. Rushing at the door, all ettiquite and propriety out of mind, he began banging at the doors with all his force. The floor seemed to intensify and the interval between each ping grew, slowly stretching into forever. A grostique and misshapen face appeared on the ground, snickering, and mocking him for his panic.
The banging turned into ramming. He felt his breathing hasten, but to little use. The available air didn’t seem enough. His lungs were failing him. He threw himself at the door, but the desperate efforts did nothing to free him from the prison that enclosed him. A loud, resounding ping rang, echoing through the chamber. Finally, the doors released. Only then, did he feel his shoulders relax, as he collapsed into familiar arms, bathed in warm welcoming light.
