Always Face Away From Elevator Doors
I'm a firm believer that quirks and ticks are meant to help make life equal and fair for everyone. People who seem to have life figured out or for who everything comes easy, they might make grunting noises when they eat or they might have a disdain for popular trends. Everyone has a quirk that they are aware of, and I believe it grounds them. Prevents them from believing that they are perfect.
For those of us who life doesn't come easy to, quirks and ticks can make life hell. Battling anxiety, depression and social awkwardness can make life hard enough as it is. But you add a strange habit on top of that and you feel that is all people see when they see you, even though most people pay no mind to you.
Here is the thing, there is a commonality between both groups that many forget; these quirks can be coming mechanisms. That person you've seen in the local coffee shop who is always looking around, keeping an eye on the exits and on everyone who enters and exits the building; they might have been a victim of an assault, now they are always on the lookout for potential assailants. I'm not saying this is always the case, but it can be.
This helps make life fair in the sense that they are more careful to prevent an event that has happened to them previously.
The reason I am writing this is because I have a quirk myself; I face away from the door in elevators.
That's right, if you were to ride an elevator with me, I would be the weird guy who was facing the back corner of the elevator. I know, I know, it is very strange and unusual. I have had many people stare at me, and I have even had people question me or talk about me on elevator rides.
“Hey, are you ok?”
“Why are you doing that?”
“This guy is giving me the creeps.”
“Get a load of this freak!”
Yea, It bothers me a bit when people talk about me like that. After all, I am a human with feelings, but it is better for me this way. You see, there is nothing in this world that could make me do otherwise. Friends and family have tried to get me to face the door like 'normal people'. Hell, I've had more than one date go badly because of this quirk. It doesn't matter, because this way, I am safe.
You see, this quirk of mine is one that I have habitually started doing because I have had a terrible experience in an elevator.
Six months ago I rode the elevator normally, like anyone else. I live in an apartment building, quite high up actually. So unless I was to climb up and down 16 flights of stairs multiple times a day, I need to take the elevator. I know that many people have extreme fear of elevators. Some people are petrified that the elevator cable will break, sending the occupants plummeting to their death. Others think that the elevator will open up between floors, and in an attempt to leave, it will ascend or descend, squishing someone trying to leave or fully cutting them in half. Elevators can trigger claustrophobia for those who are afraid of small, enclosed spaces. It can even trigger people with agoraphobia too.
I have none of those fears. What I fear is the elevator opening up to the void.
I know that it sounds crazy. I'm so aware of this that I haven't voiced this to anyone else. I know that as soon as I try to tell anyone that I'm close to about this, that I will be locked in a padded room.
Thinking about it, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. At least I would be safe.
You see, something happened to me six months ago. I just came home from drinks with a person I met online. Things went really well, and we ended up going for a walk around the city after we each had a couple. We walked and talked for so long that we both lost track of time. We parted ways and I headed home, a lot later than I wanted to. It was a work night and I didn't get home until 11:30 pm.
I parked my car in the parking garage like usual and I headed to the elevator lobby in the basement. There was a woman waiting for the elevator when I got there. She was familiar to me. I've lived here for a few years now, and it would be hard not to recognize someone after being here for this long. She's a very pleasant woman who always asks how I'm doing, and I always reciprocate the question, often exchanging small talk when we meet. She was also pretty ancient looking. I don't mean to be rude, she just had very old, distinguishing features that would be hard to forget.
We exchanged pleasantries until the elevator arrived. I got on and pressed the button for floor 17, and I pressed floor 2 for her. She thanked me on her short ride to her floor. Now normally I hate when people take the elevator to the main floor or second floor from the parking garage, but she could barely walk. How she drove, I had no idea. She got off on her floor and bid me a good night, as did I.
The doors closed after she left, and I wish that they never opened up after that.
The first sign that something wrong was happening was that it took a good 15 to 20 seconds for the elevator to start moving after the doors closed. I didn't think anything of it at the time because there was an issue of the elevators taking a couple moments to start moving. It was an ongoing issue that the building was looking into.
I have since realized that this is the first sign.
Once the elevator started moving up it was business as usual. That is, until the sound stopped. Now, I'll admit that I wasn't really paying attention at the time, and I was decently tired from the work day and going out at night. Looking back, it wasn't all at once, but more gradual. But it is hard not to notice when you are on a moving elevator and you can only hear the noise of your own breathing.
Once I did notice it though, I felt a chill go down my spine. I cleared my throat and knocked against the wall of the metal box that surrounded me. The only sounds I could hear were those that I was making. This elevator had always made noise, yet now it was so quiet I could almost hear my heart beat.
It was at this point that I realized that even though the LED screen said I was just passing floor 10, I was on the elevator longer than I had ever been before. I stared at the numbers, eagerly awaiting the digits of my floor. The numbers increase as they should, but they were a lot slower than ever before. I watched them climb to 11, then 12, and I expected it to go to 14 after that.
But this time, for the first time ever, it went to floor 13, and I experienced the harshest elevator stop when it hit 13.
Now, I understand that 13 comes after 12, but that's not the case in buildings with 13 or more floors. You see, the number 13 is so superstitious, that buildings don't have a floor 13; 90% of buildings go from 12 to 14, in an attempt to avoid the bad luck that accompanies floor 13.
So when the elevator jerked to a stop at floor 13, I felt genuine fear.
I stood there for the longest time, back pressed against the back of the elevator, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did happen, I tried to make something happen. I pressed my floor again, hoping that this metal box would ascend, but it didn't. I tried every other floor. I didn't care if it took my back to the basement, I would walk up the stairs.
I even pressed the emergency stop button, and even the call button. Nothing worked. Only one button did anything, and that was the open door button. I didn't want to push that, in fear of what would happen. After pushing it, I waited, as I did with every other button. Except this time, it worked.
Oh God. I wish that I had never pushed that button.
The doors slowly parted open, revealing nothing. An endless void of nothing.
I stared into it, not out of curiosity, but out of petrification. I stood there, rooted in spot, and I saw dark, inky, nothingness. I felt cold bleed into the elevator compartment, until I was chilled to the bone, like standing in the middle of a -40C blizzard. I could see my breath at this point, and that's when I realized I could see something else.
The dark, void of nothingness was moving.
It was subtle enough, and it did take me a while to see it, but once I did, I wish that I didn't. There was a mass in there, as dark as the rest of it, and it was writhing and vibrating. It resembled a mass of ants, or maybe an octopus who wrapped itself in its tentacles. It was horrifying to experience, but what was worse was the sound. It came back gradually, just like it left. What I heard though was breathing; ragged, pained breathing. Behind that breathing was a noise that I could only describe as slime being spread on a rough surface.
I stood there, looking at the moving darkness and hearing those gross noises, and I felt my body start to move on its own. I took a step closer to the opening, and then I took another. I willed my body to stop, but it wasn't listening to me. I walked right to the edge of the elevator, and I reached out. I felt every hair stand up on end, and I felt my senses scream at me to stop, but I couldn't. As my arm moved into the void, I felt cold; and I felt the sense of dread and death. I can't fully explain it, but it felt like how kneeling beside an open casket feels.
Eventually my arm was at its full reach and I felt something.
It was colder than ice. I felt something rough, wet, and wiggling. Without a doubt, it was the worst thing I had ever touched in my life.
As soon as my hand touched whatever it touched, the shriek started. It was louder than anything I had ever experienced before. I felt it go right through my body; I even felt it through my organs. It lasted only 10 seconds or so, but it felt like an eternity.
The only good that came from that banshee wail was that my body finally started to listen to me again. My hands flew to my ears, and my body flung itself to the side of the elevator. As soon as the shriek stopped, I frantically started pressing the door close button. I probably pressed it over a hundred times in the short moment before it started to close. When it finally started to close, i exhaled in relief, my body finally easing from the horrific experience.
This was premature though.
As the door was starting to close, I heard a faint scratching noise that progressively got louder and louder, until a hand was gripping the door. This hand was as black as the darkness it came from, and it was impossibly thin. There were only 2 fingers and a thumb on that hand that I could see, but they were longer than any finger I've ever seen, with each digit ending in an onyx claw.
This arm was trying to push the door open. Even though it was slowing it down, it wasn't stopping the door. I continued to press the button, praying that the door would close. This was until the second arm came. It looked exactly like the first one, and it also tried to hold the door open. I didn't feel my legs under me any more, and before I knew it I was collapsed on the floor.
Quicker and quicker, more arms and hands came to the now slowly closing door, to hold it open with their brethren.
It was now at the point where I couldn't count the hands anymore, and the door was barely moving. I couldn't hold it back anymore; I let out a scream. It was primal and unlike any noise I had ever made before. I closed my eyes and yelled until I couldn't breathe anymore. When i finally had to gasp for air, my eyes opened to see the door close, with the last of the fingers slipping through the crack. I stared, stunned in anticipation at what would happen next.
But nothing did.
The door was closed, and all i was left with was the sound of my breathing, and the terror in my veins. I stared, eyes watering and stomach dropping at the thought of the door opening again.
The elevator unexpectedly started moving again and I nearly pissed my pants when it did. I sat on the floor in a heap until the elevator stopped at floor 17. It opened up to a lit up hallway, as it always did before. I sat there, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. I sat there, stunned, until the door started to close. That jolted me out of my stupor and I rushed out, and went straight into my apartment. I ran straight to bed and stayed there all night, but I didn't sleep.
I haven't slept much since then. I see it every time I close my eyes.
Since that day I always stand facing the back corner of the elevator. I don't dare to turn around, no matter what. You see, every once in a while the elevator takes too long to get going, and when that happens, the sounds slowly tapers off, and that elevator ride lasts a lot longer than it should. But since I've looked into the corner, we haven't stopped at floor thirteen, and the door to the void hasn't opened again.
You might be asking yourselves why i am writing this now.
It's because a boy went missing in my building. He was 9 years old, and he was going up to his home after coming home from school. Security cameras show him getting on at the bottom, and the cameras on floor 14 show the doors opening, but no one got off. All of the footage has been checked, and that boy never left the elevator.
So I say this as a cautionary tale, always face away from the doors of an elevator, and pray you don't end up at floor 13.
- Cody S
For those of us who life doesn't come easy to, quirks and ticks can make life hell. Battling anxiety, depression and social awkwardness can make life hard enough as it is. But you add a strange habit on top of that and you feel that is all people see when they see you, even though most people pay no mind to you.
Here is the thing, there is a commonality between both groups that many forget; these quirks can be coming mechanisms. That person you've seen in the local coffee shop who is always looking around, keeping an eye on the exits and on everyone who enters and exits the building; they might have been a victim of an assault, now they are always on the lookout for potential assailants. I'm not saying this is always the case, but it can be.
This helps make life fair in the sense that they are more careful to prevent an event that has happened to them previously.
The reason I am writing this is because I have a quirk myself; I face away from the door in elevators.
That's right, if you were to ride an elevator with me, I would be the weird guy who was facing the back corner of the elevator. I know, I know, it is very strange and unusual. I have had many people stare at me, and I have even had people question me or talk about me on elevator rides.
“Hey, are you ok?”
“Why are you doing that?”
“This guy is giving me the creeps.”
“Get a load of this freak!”
Yea, It bothers me a bit when people talk about me like that. After all, I am a human with feelings, but it is better for me this way. You see, there is nothing in this world that could make me do otherwise. Friends and family have tried to get me to face the door like 'normal people'. Hell, I've had more than one date go badly because of this quirk. It doesn't matter, because this way, I am safe.
You see, this quirk of mine is one that I have habitually started doing because I have had a terrible experience in an elevator.
Six months ago I rode the elevator normally, like anyone else. I live in an apartment building, quite high up actually. So unless I was to climb up and down 16 flights of stairs multiple times a day, I need to take the elevator. I know that many people have extreme fear of elevators. Some people are petrified that the elevator cable will break, sending the occupants plummeting to their death. Others think that the elevator will open up between floors, and in an attempt to leave, it will ascend or descend, squishing someone trying to leave or fully cutting them in half. Elevators can trigger claustrophobia for those who are afraid of small, enclosed spaces. It can even trigger people with agoraphobia too.
I have none of those fears. What I fear is the elevator opening up to the void.
I know that it sounds crazy. I'm so aware of this that I haven't voiced this to anyone else. I know that as soon as I try to tell anyone that I'm close to about this, that I will be locked in a padded room.
Thinking about it, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. At least I would be safe.
You see, something happened to me six months ago. I just came home from drinks with a person I met online. Things went really well, and we ended up going for a walk around the city after we each had a couple. We walked and talked for so long that we both lost track of time. We parted ways and I headed home, a lot later than I wanted to. It was a work night and I didn't get home until 11:30 pm.
I parked my car in the parking garage like usual and I headed to the elevator lobby in the basement. There was a woman waiting for the elevator when I got there. She was familiar to me. I've lived here for a few years now, and it would be hard not to recognize someone after being here for this long. She's a very pleasant woman who always asks how I'm doing, and I always reciprocate the question, often exchanging small talk when we meet. She was also pretty ancient looking. I don't mean to be rude, she just had very old, distinguishing features that would be hard to forget.
We exchanged pleasantries until the elevator arrived. I got on and pressed the button for floor 17, and I pressed floor 2 for her. She thanked me on her short ride to her floor. Now normally I hate when people take the elevator to the main floor or second floor from the parking garage, but she could barely walk. How she drove, I had no idea. She got off on her floor and bid me a good night, as did I.
The doors closed after she left, and I wish that they never opened up after that.
The first sign that something wrong was happening was that it took a good 15 to 20 seconds for the elevator to start moving after the doors closed. I didn't think anything of it at the time because there was an issue of the elevators taking a couple moments to start moving. It was an ongoing issue that the building was looking into.
I have since realized that this is the first sign.
Once the elevator started moving up it was business as usual. That is, until the sound stopped. Now, I'll admit that I wasn't really paying attention at the time, and I was decently tired from the work day and going out at night. Looking back, it wasn't all at once, but more gradual. But it is hard not to notice when you are on a moving elevator and you can only hear the noise of your own breathing.
Once I did notice it though, I felt a chill go down my spine. I cleared my throat and knocked against the wall of the metal box that surrounded me. The only sounds I could hear were those that I was making. This elevator had always made noise, yet now it was so quiet I could almost hear my heart beat.
It was at this point that I realized that even though the LED screen said I was just passing floor 10, I was on the elevator longer than I had ever been before. I stared at the numbers, eagerly awaiting the digits of my floor. The numbers increase as they should, but they were a lot slower than ever before. I watched them climb to 11, then 12, and I expected it to go to 14 after that.
But this time, for the first time ever, it went to floor 13, and I experienced the harshest elevator stop when it hit 13.
Now, I understand that 13 comes after 12, but that's not the case in buildings with 13 or more floors. You see, the number 13 is so superstitious, that buildings don't have a floor 13; 90% of buildings go from 12 to 14, in an attempt to avoid the bad luck that accompanies floor 13.
So when the elevator jerked to a stop at floor 13, I felt genuine fear.
I stood there for the longest time, back pressed against the back of the elevator, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did happen, I tried to make something happen. I pressed my floor again, hoping that this metal box would ascend, but it didn't. I tried every other floor. I didn't care if it took my back to the basement, I would walk up the stairs.
I even pressed the emergency stop button, and even the call button. Nothing worked. Only one button did anything, and that was the open door button. I didn't want to push that, in fear of what would happen. After pushing it, I waited, as I did with every other button. Except this time, it worked.
Oh God. I wish that I had never pushed that button.
The doors slowly parted open, revealing nothing. An endless void of nothing.
I stared into it, not out of curiosity, but out of petrification. I stood there, rooted in spot, and I saw dark, inky, nothingness. I felt cold bleed into the elevator compartment, until I was chilled to the bone, like standing in the middle of a -40C blizzard. I could see my breath at this point, and that's when I realized I could see something else.
The dark, void of nothingness was moving.
It was subtle enough, and it did take me a while to see it, but once I did, I wish that I didn't. There was a mass in there, as dark as the rest of it, and it was writhing and vibrating. It resembled a mass of ants, or maybe an octopus who wrapped itself in its tentacles. It was horrifying to experience, but what was worse was the sound. It came back gradually, just like it left. What I heard though was breathing; ragged, pained breathing. Behind that breathing was a noise that I could only describe as slime being spread on a rough surface.
I stood there, looking at the moving darkness and hearing those gross noises, and I felt my body start to move on its own. I took a step closer to the opening, and then I took another. I willed my body to stop, but it wasn't listening to me. I walked right to the edge of the elevator, and I reached out. I felt every hair stand up on end, and I felt my senses scream at me to stop, but I couldn't. As my arm moved into the void, I felt cold; and I felt the sense of dread and death. I can't fully explain it, but it felt like how kneeling beside an open casket feels.
Eventually my arm was at its full reach and I felt something.
It was colder than ice. I felt something rough, wet, and wiggling. Without a doubt, it was the worst thing I had ever touched in my life.
As soon as my hand touched whatever it touched, the shriek started. It was louder than anything I had ever experienced before. I felt it go right through my body; I even felt it through my organs. It lasted only 10 seconds or so, but it felt like an eternity.
The only good that came from that banshee wail was that my body finally started to listen to me again. My hands flew to my ears, and my body flung itself to the side of the elevator. As soon as the shriek stopped, I frantically started pressing the door close button. I probably pressed it over a hundred times in the short moment before it started to close. When it finally started to close, i exhaled in relief, my body finally easing from the horrific experience.
This was premature though.
As the door was starting to close, I heard a faint scratching noise that progressively got louder and louder, until a hand was gripping the door. This hand was as black as the darkness it came from, and it was impossibly thin. There were only 2 fingers and a thumb on that hand that I could see, but they were longer than any finger I've ever seen, with each digit ending in an onyx claw.
This arm was trying to push the door open. Even though it was slowing it down, it wasn't stopping the door. I continued to press the button, praying that the door would close. This was until the second arm came. It looked exactly like the first one, and it also tried to hold the door open. I didn't feel my legs under me any more, and before I knew it I was collapsed on the floor.
Quicker and quicker, more arms and hands came to the now slowly closing door, to hold it open with their brethren.
It was now at the point where I couldn't count the hands anymore, and the door was barely moving. I couldn't hold it back anymore; I let out a scream. It was primal and unlike any noise I had ever made before. I closed my eyes and yelled until I couldn't breathe anymore. When i finally had to gasp for air, my eyes opened to see the door close, with the last of the fingers slipping through the crack. I stared, stunned in anticipation at what would happen next.
But nothing did.
The door was closed, and all i was left with was the sound of my breathing, and the terror in my veins. I stared, eyes watering and stomach dropping at the thought of the door opening again.
The elevator unexpectedly started moving again and I nearly pissed my pants when it did. I sat on the floor in a heap until the elevator stopped at floor 17. It opened up to a lit up hallway, as it always did before. I sat there, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. I sat there, stunned, until the door started to close. That jolted me out of my stupor and I rushed out, and went straight into my apartment. I ran straight to bed and stayed there all night, but I didn't sleep.
I haven't slept much since then. I see it every time I close my eyes.
Since that day I always stand facing the back corner of the elevator. I don't dare to turn around, no matter what. You see, every once in a while the elevator takes too long to get going, and when that happens, the sounds slowly tapers off, and that elevator ride lasts a lot longer than it should. But since I've looked into the corner, we haven't stopped at floor thirteen, and the door to the void hasn't opened again.
You might be asking yourselves why i am writing this now.
It's because a boy went missing in my building. He was 9 years old, and he was going up to his home after coming home from school. Security cameras show him getting on at the bottom, and the cameras on floor 14 show the doors opening, but no one got off. All of the footage has been checked, and that boy never left the elevator.
So I say this as a cautionary tale, always face away from the doors of an elevator, and pray you don't end up at floor 13.
- Cody S
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