James locked his office door and stepped into the lift. A few seconds into the descent from the tenth floor he felt a jolt and the lights dimmed out. He soon realised that the lift had stopped, so he rang the emergency bell. Nothing. 'Bobby, I am stuck in this bloody lift. It's James. Can you please HELP! James cried into the darkness. 'Please help me!' he pleaded to the porter.
He tried the alarm again, this time keeping his forefinger on the red button for thirty seconds. After all, it was a Friday night and nobody other than the porter would still be hanging around.
What if no one discovered James until Monday morning? He tried to keep that thought out of his head, but the longer the alarm bell rang unanswered, the more persistent the image of his body being found by colleagues became. The constant ringing was by now causing him to have auditory hallucinations.
As the minutes ticked by, panic began to rise up in him. Would anyone realise something was wrong and that James wasn't just having another late day at the office? His eyes began to fill up with tears. Beads of sweat started to slide down his forehead. His bladder was about to burst. At first he hesitated, but then he said to himself 'What the hell, nobody can see me or hear me. Nobody even knows I am trapped in here!' Trembling, James unzipped the fly of his black trousers, looked at the mirror and let out a sigh of relief after urinating on the ancient wine carpet.
Time passed. No one came. James felt like a trapped animal. Starting to get desperate, he tried to force the doors open. No such luck.
Still perspiring and almost losing hope of ever escaping, James pulled his phone out of his suit pocket and hit the speed dial. 'Grace, my love, I am stuck in ....' The line went dead. James started to hyperventilate.
He scrambled up the sides of the lift to push open the escape hatch in the ceiling. But the trap door was locked.
Exhausted, James lied down in a foetal position. He felt defeated. Thoughts of a slow death consumed him. He closed his eyes hoping that whoever came to his rescue would not be discovering a body, but someone who still had the strength to say 'Thanks for rescuing me.'
(Written : Summer 2015)