He muttered, his breathing growing heavier. He retracted his head away from the slit and turned off his phone’s flashlight. His hands trembled as he fumbled to dial emergency services.

  His phone beeped loudly. No signal.

  From the end of the corridor, the sound of a bouncing ball emerged, striking the floor in regular intervals. Inferring from the sound, it seemed like someone had veered in from one of the adjacent offices.

  Lysander cowered in the corner of the elevator, glancing at the mirror to make sure he was in full view, and started whimpering as the impacts grew louder.

  Shortly after, it seemed like the supposed actor had come to a standstill, pausing for a couple of seconds when arriving a few meters away from the elevator.

  He peered another glance at the reflection in the mirror, but they were still shrouded in the darkness of the corridor. Just as he was about to retract his gaze, the rubber ball rolled down the corridor and through the slit of the elevator.

  Distracted by the turn of events, Lysander let down his guard, grabbing the rubber ball curiously, before realizing this might not be the natural course of action for a scared prankee. After all, he was neither a good actor nor a great liar. Unsure of how to proceed next, he quickly threw the ball back where it came from and cowered back into his corner.

  A quiet high-pitched yelp resounded from the shadows, and Lysander cursed under his breath. He had acted in the spur of the moment; not only would the believability of his account in court diminish, butwould be able to leverage the child actor’s injury.

  Racking his brain, he considered how he could salvage the situation.

  Before he could finish his intrusive thoughts, a child’s giggles resounded, and the rubber ball was flung, bouncing off the floor and pouncing into the elevator, shattering the mirror. The rubber ball bounced around the elevator, shards flying all over.

  Lysander broke out in cold sweat as he shielded himself from the shards. One grazed his ear, drawing blood. He was perplexed. There was no way a child would be able to muster such force. Had it been a small but fully grown actor losing their temper? Although he didn’t believe in ghosts, an unsettling chill ran down his spine.

  As he scanned the devastated elevator, bumps marring the metal surface, his gaze landed on a shard, reflecting a shadow crawling slowly out of the corridor’s darkness.

  He didn’t have the nerve to peek again, instead hammering frantically on the elevator buttons, hoping for the power of the building to be restored.

  “You got me, okay! I give up!” he screamed as the burnt odor intensified.

  The lights of the elevator flickered back on, the buttons illuminating, and the door shut closed. Bangs resounded muffled from outside, and Lysander heaved a sigh of relief, limply sliding down as it descended slowly.

  Just as he was about to pull out his phone, noises resounded from right above him. He raised his head, staring straight at the elevator ceiling’s hatch typically used for maintenance.

  He jerked onto his feet, leaping and grabbing the hatch’s handle. At the same time, a counterforce was exerted on the hatch, trying to pry it open.

  Although he was a nonbeliever, all his bodily instincts were screaming for him to prevent that entity from breaking into the elevator by any means possible.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  However, as an office worker, he was chronically unathletic. Despite merely being suspended in the air for a few seconds, his taut muscles were already aching. He didn’t know if he could make it to the ground floor. He swallowed his saliva and observed the floors counting down on the digital display.

  He clutched the handle tightly, intent on clinging onto it until arriving on the ground floor, even if his muscles snapped in the process. A warm liquid trickled down from his soaking hair. With his arms occupied, he couldn’t stop it from dripping into his eyes, and his vision blurred crimson. A flashback from his past flashed across his mind.

  …

  Lysander stood shakily atop an old decommissioned railway bridge. His gaze slowly moved down, onto the rails he was standing on, and down to the river, which meandered several meters beneath. His stomach dropped.

  “Don’t chicken out now, sissy.” The older kid’s shadow loomed over him, and he nudged Lysander. “You chose dare. You can’t back out now.”

  He quivered. “You promise you’ll pull me up right away?”

  The kid glanced at the group of kids behind him, then directed his gaze back at Lysander. “Sure. If you have the balls to do it, you’ll join our ranks.”

  A gust of wind swept across the bridge. Leaves fluttered between the two, and Lysander gripped the rusty railing tightly. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

  Mustering his courage, he knelt down steadily, clutching the rails. Exhaling for the last time, he slowly descended, the frail bridge creaking against the wind. Afraid, he closed his eyes.

  Only when he was fully suspended beneath the bridge did he dare open them up again. The knot in his throat gradually dissolved, replaced by an astonishing feeling of freedom.

  Beneath his feet, a vast landscape spread far and wide. The pine trees swayed in the wind, birds chirped, and a trout jumped out of the water.

  However, his strength was slowly waning. “Pull me up now.”

  "..."

  There was no response.

  His fleeting bliss turned into a spiraling panic instantly. Lysander’s heart pounded loudly, sweat drenching his hair.

  “Pull me up!” he screamed, a burning sensation spreading in the muscles of his arms, “I’ll fall!”

  In the periphery of his vision, the group of kids retreated back into the mountain’s railway tunnel, where the bridge began.

  Sweat now trickled down in buckets.

  The same earth he was dangling above, mother of all life and source of freedom, now symbolized utter death. The veil was lifted, and oh, how thin it was.

  …

  Lysander’s eyes sprang open, and he clasped the hatch’s handle with newfound strength. The handle shook violently, and the hatch was pulled open just a hair’s breadth, crimson liquid gushing out, splashing right onto him.

  He yelped in pain. The liquid was scalding hot, unbearable, but he held on notwithstanding. His eyes locked onto the digital display.

  He arrived on the ground floor. The elevator door slid open, and Lysander dropped to the floor, leaving a bloody trail as he crawled into the lobby. Gasping for air, he turned around, watching the now-open hatch closely as he retreated further.

  A picture appeared, gliding gracefully through the air. Softly, it landed before him, and he picked it up gingerly. He inspected it thoroughly. The picture’s edges were all burned, and a bloody fingerprint ran across the image. It depicted a feeble elderly woman standing beside a young black-haired kid.

  He stuffed it into his pockets, then turned to the nonchalant receptionist standing behind a marble desk. Hauling himself up, he stumbled towards her.

  Seeing as she didn’t have much of a reaction, it seemed like he had guessed correctly. This was all an elaborate prank, and he had actually fallen for it.

  He examined his skin. It would be a miracle if it didn't form blisters, and with a bit of luck, these would be some permanent scars to present to the judge. He smirked. He had just won the lottery.

  “What is it?” asked the receptionist.

  Lysander met her gaze directly.

  “I know you’ve been planning this. Ambushing me with a child actor while trapped in the elevator and all. I’m not going to waste your time. If you don’t want a lawsuit bankrupting your company, you’d better compensate me a few million euros.”

  She furrowed her brows, then glanced at the ravaged elevator, pausing for a few seconds. “Sir, you haven’t freed him, right?”

  Lysander’s patience was running thin. Grabbing her by her collar, he shouted, “I demand compensation!”

  “Sir, it took the five of us three years to seal him. How dare you seek compensation now?!”

  He pulled out his phone to call the police, but his battery was empty.

  “Don’t think this is the last time we see each other,” said Lysander and walked off. “Let me visit the emergency room first, then I’ll use my hospital records as evidence to sue you into oblivion.”

  "Oh, I'm sure we'll meet again," the receptionist's voice echoed from behind.

  As he exited the law firm, he muttered silently, “The first things I'll buy when I claim damages will be a gym membership."