Story

I am better. Thanks guys.

So I know you're all desperate to find out what exciting new things are going on in my life, so without further ado, here is my story:

The night is dark and still, silent and waiting. The world is abandoned, and at this wicked hour there is no one to bear witness of the crime that's about to unfold.

The victim - a young woman with innocent blue eyes and an unsuspecting smile - is alone in the empty building. She wanders through the labyrinthine halls, the squeaking of her shoes echoing loudly. She has come here often at this time. She is not afraid.

Not yet.

She enters the elevator at the end of the hall, humming a mournful tune as the metal doors slide silently shut. She leans against the handrail as she starts to ascend. The numbers above the door read "2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5." When the car shudders to a stop at the top floor, the girl lets go of the rail and walks toward the doors, but they do not open. She frowns, confused.

And then she falls.

The entire elevator drops from underneath her feet at a blinding speed. She actually floats a few inches in the air before she collapses onto the floor of the elevator and cries out. Panicking, she shuffles to the corner of the car, clutching at the bars to pull herself back to her feet. She watches in terror as the numbers on the screen flash by. "4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . ." She screams, knowing full well that no one will ever hear her.

CRASH.

The elevator smashes into the cement at the bottom of the shaft. The woman is thrown across the floor, hitting her head on one of the metal bars on the other side. She bounces back and forth limply, like a rag doll. The elevator is plunged into darkness.

She opens her eyes, blinking through a stream of hot liquid. She wipes the blood out of her eyes, feeling the gash in her forehead. She tries to assess the damage without seeing it: a broken leg, she's quite sure, and maybe a few ribs as well. She has bruises and cuts all over her. Moaning, but considering herself lucky, she reaches for her cellphone to call for help.

No service.

Angry, she chucks the phone across the elevator. Panting, she tries to think straight. The elevator is obviously not working anymore, so she can't use the Call Help button. Someone is bound to find her soon, she decides. Maybe not for a few hours, not until people start showing up for work, but they'll realize the elevator is broken, and that she's missing, and they'll send the fire department or something. She thinks that if she can stay conscious she'll be fine. She presses her hand to her forehead to stop the bleeding.

Suddenly, the doors open and a beam of light falls across the cabin. The tile of the closest floor is less than a foot from the ceiling of the elevator. She looks up, squinting, relief flooding through her as she waits for a face to appear in the gap. It's her boss, surely. Or one of her co-workers. "Hello?" she calls out.

And then he walks into the light.

She gasps, pressing a hand against her ribs as she looks into the ugliest face she's ever seen, but one she's all too familiar with. Suddenly everything makes sense. She's starting to realize that this was no accident. Desperately, she tries to stand up, but she's defenseless, and the effort makes her vision start to go black, nearly putting her over the edge into unconsciousness. The murderer walks slowly to the edge of the floor, grinning in triumph. And Jessica knows she is lost.

"Webby!" she spits out.

The tarantula, victorious at last, drops into the elevator and devours his prey.

...

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Okay, so that didn't actually happen of course. I told you it was a story. I never said it was a true story!


EDIT: I didn't realize it earlier, but this was my 50th blog post! WOOT!!! Let's have a dance party! IN LONDON!!!