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Today’s prompts (the picture prompt to the left and the story starter below at the beginning of the story in bold) both come from Li Vogt, a great blog friend, and amazing fiction writer. I picked these because elevators fascinate me, and I wanted a chance to set a story in one. So here it is:
Elevators had always terrified her.
After you die, you get into an elevator. Her grandfather’s words chased her each time she went on her rounds somewhere too high to take the stairs.
If you’re good, it takes you up, all the way up to heaven where all is good and happy. Grandpa’s words followed her much like the silent troop of a dozen black-clad men who prowled around her now, guns drawn, and went on to clear the fortieth floor. As she got ready to walk towards room 4011, her partner gestured and pointed. The boys needed to break down the door, and wanted her and the partner out of their way.
Job done, the men dispersed, escorting their handcuffed trophies. Relieved men, smiling, slapping each other over a job well done. She let them go ahead, all of them, including her partner, and then faced her nemesis.
If you’re bad, it takes you down, into the deep dark pits of hell where everything burns and no one is happy. Grandpa’s words, whispered on what would turn out to be his deathbed, plagued her as she sauntered into the elevator, pressed the button for the lobby.
What happens, Grandpa, if I’m neither too good nor bad? She remembered her question, and the lift jolted to a halt on cue, suspended between floors. The light dipped and flashed.
She fought to control the wobble in her voice as she pressed the intercom button and called for help.
That’s why you and I are here, sweetheart, stuck in the middle, whispered Grandpa in her ears as she settled down to wait.
If you liked this story you might like some of the stories I wrote for my A to Z last year.