Post by spacel0rd on Oct 8, 2008 10:23:03 GMT -5
My wife needed an idea for school. She had to write a ghost story for her english paper. So i batted this out last night to hlp her.
ELEVATOR
It was getting into the wee hours of the night that slow Tuesday at the Ranson Hotel. The owner, Bill Ranson, was working late and decided it would be better to stay in one of his many rooms instead of driving all the way home.
He closed his accounting books and looked at the clock on the wall. Under the large, round dust covered glass covering the clocks simple face, the long arrow-shaped hands read 11:55 pm. Besides the clock was his day-by-day calendar. “Wow,” thought Bill, “In five minutes it will already be October 16th, 1945. That will mark the first anniversary of that terrible accident. Time is moving so fast.”
Bill brought up the memory of his past employee, Doug Williams, who had been a young bellboy. Just 17 years old at the time, Doug already had worked at the Ranson for three years. It was one year ago that Doug was bringing up bags to a guest on the 13th floor. He dropped off the bags without incident. But when he tried returning back to the ground floor, everything went wrong. Shortly after Doug entered the elevator that night the cables gave out only to have the whole thing come crashing down to a deadly crash. By the time the firefighters dug him out from under the steel and wood beams, Doug had been long dead.
This situation, as bad as it was, would not have bothered Bill as much if he didn’t feel somewhat responsible. The inspection on the elevator had been long past due and his own procrastination was to blame for him not renewing it. If only he had someone come to the hotel on time and check the cables, this whole situation could have been avoided. Feeling too embarrassed, Bill held the paperwork and facts of his error from the family of poor, young Doug. It would be a secret he would take to his grave.
Wiping the memory from his mind, Bill put his reading glasses down and walked to the hallway towards his now-newly-inspected elevators. “Why not stay in the honeymoon suite tonight?” he thought. “No one is using it.”
He pushed the elevator’s call button. It smoothly came down and the doors opened. He entered and looked at the protruding black buttons signifying each floor: G, 1, 2, 3, 4 and so on. There no longer was a 13th floor. After what happened one year prior, Bill had made the that floor the 14th. Even though it was physically the 13th, no one wanted to stay on it unless he renamed it.
He hit the button for the top floor, the 20th, and waited for the doors to shut.
The elevator rose steadily only to slow up at the 11th. It came to a premature halt shortly after. Bill looked at the floor indicator above the closed doors in front of him. The arrow was stuck between the 12 and 14. “I can’t believe this,” Bill said out loud. “Am I really stuck between two floors?”
Suddenly the sliding doors opened. Doug expected to see the ceiling of the 12th and the floor of the 14th separated by concrete . But he didn’t. What he saw was a whole, undivided hallway for him to walk into. The sign on the hallway wall in front of him read “The 13th Floor.”
“This is impossible,” thought Bill. “Is this a joke?” The hallway was dimly lit. He could hear the dark, deep, hallow sound of a dreaded wind even though the air around him was still. Since he had second thoughts of stepping out, he started pushing more floor buttons. Nothing happened. Everything was still even though the air around him crackled with movement. He could see that he had no choice and would have to step foot onto this mysterious 13th floor. “Maybe I can just take the steps back down.”
His right foot was the first to move. It lifted and broke the plain of the elevator to the hallway. He then set it down. His left then followed. Before he knew it, he was in the hallway completely. He looked to his right and then to his left. There were no doors along the walls. There were no rooms on this floor! There was only solid yellow wallpaper to be seen. Then each wall at each end of the hallway began to close on him. They were compressing him. He quickly turned around to get back onto the elevator. It was then he saw a young boy at its open doors laughing and pointing at him. “It can’t be,” he thought. But it was. Dressed in his bellboy uniform with a nametag reading “Doug” the figure shouted out, “I know you were to blame!”
The hallway condensed more and then stopped leaving a few feet of space all around him. The walls then turned from the yellow wallpaper into a dark wood paneling. The now-small room he was in began to shake. He then saw the elevator Doug was in begin to rise up. Or was it rising? Maybe it was him who was starting to fall. It was then Bill realized what had happened. He was now in the elevator. He had stepped from some sort of ghostly floor and into a magical elevator. Doug with that devilish grin was standing safe on some sort of stable flooring. Bill then heard what would turn out to be his last words. It came from Doug in an echoing joyful-like voice. “Bye, bye, you bastard!”
No one could figure out what happened the next morning. Exactly one year after that terrible accident, the firemen of the city were again digging out another body from elevator wreckage in the same hotel. But this time when the body was picked up and placed under wraps, there were more than just steel beams and splinters found under him. There also seemed to be some sort of bloodstained papers. One firefighter picked them up. The bold letters on top of one page seemed to catch his eye. They read, “Elevator Inspection: Expires June 1st, 1940.”
ELEVATOR
It was getting into the wee hours of the night that slow Tuesday at the Ranson Hotel. The owner, Bill Ranson, was working late and decided it would be better to stay in one of his many rooms instead of driving all the way home.
He closed his accounting books and looked at the clock on the wall. Under the large, round dust covered glass covering the clocks simple face, the long arrow-shaped hands read 11:55 pm. Besides the clock was his day-by-day calendar. “Wow,” thought Bill, “In five minutes it will already be October 16th, 1945. That will mark the first anniversary of that terrible accident. Time is moving so fast.”
Bill brought up the memory of his past employee, Doug Williams, who had been a young bellboy. Just 17 years old at the time, Doug already had worked at the Ranson for three years. It was one year ago that Doug was bringing up bags to a guest on the 13th floor. He dropped off the bags without incident. But when he tried returning back to the ground floor, everything went wrong. Shortly after Doug entered the elevator that night the cables gave out only to have the whole thing come crashing down to a deadly crash. By the time the firefighters dug him out from under the steel and wood beams, Doug had been long dead.
This situation, as bad as it was, would not have bothered Bill as much if he didn’t feel somewhat responsible. The inspection on the elevator had been long past due and his own procrastination was to blame for him not renewing it. If only he had someone come to the hotel on time and check the cables, this whole situation could have been avoided. Feeling too embarrassed, Bill held the paperwork and facts of his error from the family of poor, young Doug. It would be a secret he would take to his grave.
Wiping the memory from his mind, Bill put his reading glasses down and walked to the hallway towards his now-newly-inspected elevators. “Why not stay in the honeymoon suite tonight?” he thought. “No one is using it.”
He pushed the elevator’s call button. It smoothly came down and the doors opened. He entered and looked at the protruding black buttons signifying each floor: G, 1, 2, 3, 4 and so on. There no longer was a 13th floor. After what happened one year prior, Bill had made the that floor the 14th. Even though it was physically the 13th, no one wanted to stay on it unless he renamed it.
He hit the button for the top floor, the 20th, and waited for the doors to shut.
The elevator rose steadily only to slow up at the 11th. It came to a premature halt shortly after. Bill looked at the floor indicator above the closed doors in front of him. The arrow was stuck between the 12 and 14. “I can’t believe this,” Bill said out loud. “Am I really stuck between two floors?”
Suddenly the sliding doors opened. Doug expected to see the ceiling of the 12th and the floor of the 14th separated by concrete . But he didn’t. What he saw was a whole, undivided hallway for him to walk into. The sign on the hallway wall in front of him read “The 13th Floor.”
“This is impossible,” thought Bill. “Is this a joke?” The hallway was dimly lit. He could hear the dark, deep, hallow sound of a dreaded wind even though the air around him was still. Since he had second thoughts of stepping out, he started pushing more floor buttons. Nothing happened. Everything was still even though the air around him crackled with movement. He could see that he had no choice and would have to step foot onto this mysterious 13th floor. “Maybe I can just take the steps back down.”
His right foot was the first to move. It lifted and broke the plain of the elevator to the hallway. He then set it down. His left then followed. Before he knew it, he was in the hallway completely. He looked to his right and then to his left. There were no doors along the walls. There were no rooms on this floor! There was only solid yellow wallpaper to be seen. Then each wall at each end of the hallway began to close on him. They were compressing him. He quickly turned around to get back onto the elevator. It was then he saw a young boy at its open doors laughing and pointing at him. “It can’t be,” he thought. But it was. Dressed in his bellboy uniform with a nametag reading “Doug” the figure shouted out, “I know you were to blame!”
The hallway condensed more and then stopped leaving a few feet of space all around him. The walls then turned from the yellow wallpaper into a dark wood paneling. The now-small room he was in began to shake. He then saw the elevator Doug was in begin to rise up. Or was it rising? Maybe it was him who was starting to fall. It was then Bill realized what had happened. He was now in the elevator. He had stepped from some sort of ghostly floor and into a magical elevator. Doug with that devilish grin was standing safe on some sort of stable flooring. Bill then heard what would turn out to be his last words. It came from Doug in an echoing joyful-like voice. “Bye, bye, you bastard!”
No one could figure out what happened the next morning. Exactly one year after that terrible accident, the firemen of the city were again digging out another body from elevator wreckage in the same hotel. But this time when the body was picked up and placed under wraps, there were more than just steel beams and splinters found under him. There also seemed to be some sort of bloodstained papers. One firefighter picked them up. The bold letters on top of one page seemed to catch his eye. They read, “Elevator Inspection: Expires June 1st, 1940.”
