Descent into Madness

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 Jack had always been a bit uneasy about elevators. The thought of being confined in a small metal box, suspended mid-air by cables, made his skin crawl. Yet, as he stepped into the sleek, modern elevator of the Grand Hotel, he tried to push aside his unease. He had a meeting on the 20th floor, and taking the stairs wasn't an option. The elevator hummed to life, but midway up, it shuddered and suddenly stopped.

Panic clenched at Jack's chest as he pressed the emergency button, but there was no response. He tried the other buttons frantically, but the elevator remained motionless. Sweat dripped down his forehead as the walls closed in on him.

Time stretched and twisted in that confined space. What felt like minutes to anyone outside felt like hours to Jack. His mind raced with scenarios of being trapped forever, forgotten by the world.

In the suffocating silence, Jack's imagination ran wild. Every creak of the elevator, every flicker of the lights, sent shivers down his spine. He felt a presence, a malevolent force, watching him from the shadows.

The air grew stale, and Jack's breaths came in shallow gasps. He pounded on the doors, screaming for help, but his voice echoed back at him, hollow and mocking.

As the minutes dragged on, Jack's fear turned into hysteria. He clawed at the walls, desperate for an escape that seemed impossible. The elevator had become his prison, a steel coffin sealing his fate.

In his frenzy, Jack's mind played tricks on him. Shadows danced in the corners, shapes twisted and contorted into grotesque figures. Whispers, faint and sinister, echoed in his ears, taunting him with his impending doom.

Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out, plunging the elevator into darkness. Jack's heart raced as he fumbled for his phone, praying for even a sliver of light. But his phone was dead, the battery drained from hours of fruitless attempts to call for help.

In the pitch-black darkness, Jack's senses heightened. Every sound, every movement, sent him into a state of sheer terror. He felt a cold breath on the back of his neck and heard footsteps echoing in the void of the elevator shaft.

And then, just as suddenly as it had stopped, the elevator jolted back to life. The lights flickered back on, revealing Jack's haggard face, eyes wide with terror.

The doors opened, and Jack stumbled out, gasping for air as if he had been underwater for hours. He looked around, expecting to see a crowd of concerned onlookers, but the hallway was deserted.

Jack staggered to the nearest room and collapsed, his mind reeling from the ordeal. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had been with him in that elevator, something dark and malevolent.

As Jack tried to compose himself, a news alert popped up on his phone. It was a story about a man who had been trapped in a malfunctioning elevator for over an hour. The man had been found dead, his face contorted in a mask of terror.

Jack's blood ran cold as he realized the truth. He had narrowly escaped the same fate, a fate that felt like an eternity in that hour of terror. As he looked back at the elevator, he knew he would never step inside once again, haunted by the memory of those endless minutes of fear.


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