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Campfire Ghost Stories |
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| By katrina | 2010-05-31 04:11:10 |
| Mrs. Posey pushed the button for the 17th floor and the elevator doors were sliding shut. She was a little surprised to see that a man in a black suit stepped through the gap at the very last second to join her in the car. It was a pleasant surprise. Although there were easily 200 people living in Mrs. Posey's large high-rise apartment building, she rarely saw any of them. People tended to stay locked behind their doors. So Mrs.Posey, who was elderly and lonely, wlecomed any oppurtunity for a bit of a social visit. Even if it only lasted the duration of an elevator ride. "Oh, the 12th floor!" she remarked when the tall man pushed the button. "The lady who runs the convenience store downstairs used to live on the 12th floor you know. But then she bought a condominium in that new development down the block." The man said nothing. He didn't turn to greet Mrs. Posey with a smile or a nod, and he did nothing to aknowledge that she had even spoken to him. He simply stared straight ahead, his hands clasped in front of him, his pale features arranged in a somber expression. A lesser woman might have been put off. But Mrs. Posey was determined to have a conversation. "It's nice to have a bit of company for the ride upstairs," she said. "Most of the tenants these days take the elevator by the west door but I like this one, on account of it's closer to my apartment." The man did nothing and said nothing. He stared blankly ahead at the dull metallic finish of the elevator doors. Mrs. Posey decided to take a different approach. She would ask him a direct question, which would force him to respond. "Do you live here by yourself, or are you visiting someone?" she inquired. Still, the man said nothing. Then the number 12 lit up on the bank of buttons, and the elevator car shuddered to a stop. The door slid open and the tall, thin fellow with the dark suit and mood to match stepped out of the elevator onto the patterned carpet of the hall. His departure left Mrs. Posey with a certain odd feeling, a certain disconnectedness. It made her recall a conversation she had overheard once in the lobby. One woman had been whispering to anoter that there was a ghost in the building, a ghost that haunted the east elevator. Mrs. Posey felt a chill as she looked out at the dark man with the vacant stare. As the elevator doors slid shut she sincerely wondered if she had just met the ghost. When the elevator doors closed behind him, Timothy Kent felt a huge surge of relief. He decided then and there that he would only use the west elevator from that day forward. His neighbor had told him to avoid the east elevaor; he claimed it was haunted. But Kent had laughed at the time. He wasn't the sort to believe in such things. Of course that was before he had ridden for 12 floors all alone with a mysterious column of shimmering, ice-cold air. |
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