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Flash Fiction: Going Up? The Elevator

Darius is a former high school literary and feature writer that loves reading books, listening to music, and watching movies.

Going Up?

It was just standing there a few steps away in front of her, under a shady lamp, with the building wall behind it casting a vague and seemingly noticeable shadow.

Its hands were dripping with viscous liquid. Drip. Drip. Drip. The drips echoed across the whole floor. It's wearing a sulken hood that covered most of its upper body, almost looking down on the floor. Or at least she thought it was.

And it was just standing there right in front of her, fingers on the open button of the elevator, waiting for this man to come in.

Just a few steps away.

"He-hello? Are you going up as well?" She asked. The green light was glowed like warning labels on the roads as her pointing finger still pressed the "up" button.

"Uhh, okay." As she slowly lifted her fingers away, and a few seconds passed, the doors had slowly, finally closed.

Her eyes never looked away from the figure, or as she thought a "weirdo man," standing in front of her. Its head shifted upward, and before the elevator completely closed she saw its flashing red eyes.

The elevator clanked and zoomed upward, skipping the first three floors until it opened up on the fourth floor. Its doors slowly opened and showed nothing but darkness and shade and — once again — the man. It was just standing right in front of her, just a few steps away.

This time she almost panicked. But it could've just been someone else, someone that looks like him. She pressed the "up" button after the door opened for almost three seconds. Her eyes never went away from looking at it.

The elevator clanked and zoomed and skipped the next four floors. The surrounding atmosphere became tense because she, somehow, is expecting the same man standing behind those doors. It's the 8th floor, and the doors began opening slowly. She held her handbag tightly, beads of sweats started gushing from the sides of her faces down to her chin, and her hands felt cold as they clench the straps her bag harder.

Her lower half stiffens as she slowly moves the end corner of the elevator. She heard sounds, more like a bunch of materials packed together. She hesitated to look at what it was outside, but she slowly peeked to see what is making it.

It was just the building's janitor carrying his materials and tools inside a large cart.

She let out a long and refreshing breath. The man from before might just be playing tricks or pranks to her. The janitor greeted with a subtle bow. She greeted back, never saying a word. The elevator doors closed and the whole thing began to go upwards. It zoomed and cranked and skipped five more floors until it stopped. The doors opened, the janitor waved for a farewell. She waved back to the janitor while he was pushing his cart from the elevator. When the janitor left, she noticed that he hadn't pressed any number on the elevator panel.

She looked up at the part of the wall where a floor number is painted on, and it said "13." The building has never built the 13th floor, nor did the elevator's buttons have them. Chills ran down to her spine; her hands retrieved its coldness like it was Winter once more. She quickly reached the panel and repeatedly pressed "up." The door slowly closed.

It zoomed and cranked and skipped the next five floors. On the 18th floor, the sign said on top of the elevator's mini-screen. It opened slowly and the man was out there, standing right in front of her. She gasped, but quickly covered her mouth. Her eyes darted at the man. She couldn't quite see what he, or it, really looks like since the corridors where dark, very dark. She reached for the panel and quickly pressed "close." The doors slowly closed and the elevator went up.

It stopped on the 19th floor, only for her to see the same man standing right in front of her. She reached the panel and repeatedly pressed. Her cold sweats have been running through her face the whole time like she's been into a sauna.

It stopped again on the 20th floor and the 21st floor. The 22nd, 23rd, 24th, 25th, and then she realized something — the corridors are getting darker, the light of the elevator is getting dimmer, and the man standing right in front of her is getting closer. Each floor is equivalent to each step forward. She looked down on its feet and tried to calculate how many steps for it to go inside. Her guess was six. It's on the 32nd floor, the topmost floor of the building.

The 29th floor. The man was just only a few inches from the elevator door. She saw its torn, dark jacket covered with whatever it stuck on it. She saw its hands and the liquid was no ordinary liquid, they were blood. But she still didn't see its face. The hood of its jacket covered most of the part of the man's head.

The elevator sounded, indicating that it's about to go up. She had a plan she thought from when she was on the 27th floor that she needs to forcefully close the doors and repeatedly press close once it got to the topmost.

The elevator stopped.

"Ding!" The 32nd floor, colored in red, flashed on its mini-screen. The light inside the elevator was dimmer than ever, and the darkness outside was even worse. Despite the crisp, cold air by the AC it was hell inside. Her sweat continued to march its ways down her face and in the silence you can almost hear her heart.

She took a deep breath, her brows squinted, and her bag on the floor. She quickly ran in front of the doors. The doors began to open, and as it opened almost midway she forcefully pressed the "close" button repeatedly. Her other hand was trying to push the doors to close.

It was like she has just joined a marathon where her life was at stake. She continuous pant as she panicked to close it. The doors stopped midway and reverted its direction from opening to closing. The doors almost got to the end when the man's hand and held on it. The blood from his hand-painted that part of the door. She let out a scream as the man showed resistance, bet she continued to fight until she manages to completely close the doors shut.


She landed on her feet, chasing for air. As she looked down, a smile was present on her face, that was then followed by small giggles. She covered her face with her palms and let out a big sigh. It's over.


That was fast, she thought. She looked up and waited for the mini-screen to flash the floor. She's expecting it to be the ground floor.

The screen didn't flash anything.

She looked at the control panel, the buttons were all grey. She stood up as the doors slowly opened. She gazed on the top part of the wall in front of her and the screen of the elevator suddenly operated.


She felt warm air from the left side of her shoulders. She was too petrified to look behind her.

The lights inside the elevator went out. And after a few seconds, it returned to its normal state.

The corridors were still dark but not as dark as they were before. The sounds of clanking and bouncing dominated the silence around the floor.

The janitor, along with its tools and pieces of equipment, made their way in front of the elevator. The janitor stood in front, outside of the elevator and examined the whole "scene."

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." He said, shaking his head disappointingly. "Great, just great. Another one". He grabbed his gloves to put them on. Moments after preparing some of the things he brought, he began collecting the "mess" inside the elevator. From torn limbs, organs that came out of who-knows-where, dangling eyeball, and brain matter everywhere, he sighed as he picked them up again and again.

"Oh!" He said. "It's the woman from earlier. What a stroke of bad luck, huh?"

After that, he grabbed a piece of thick fabric and a bucket. He crunched down and wiped and soaked and wrung and wiped again on every side of the elevator. A few minutes later, he sensed that someone, or something, was watching him.

He looked up and saw it, sitting on the elevator ceiling, looking at him with the half of its face exposed, covered entirely with blood.

"Hey! You have got to seriously stop these things you do because it's like the nth time this month. Sheesh!". Some of it even dripped on the Janitor's face, and he just wiped them away. The janitor smiled and continued his work. "And come on now, don't you drip any of that thing from your mouth, I'm wearing my favorite uniform."

It never let its eyes, or sense, away from the Janitor. It growled subtly.

"You're making my job more complicated and a pain in the ass, you know."

© 2019 Darius Razzle Paciente