Monday, 4 July 2016


Saw that this was saved as a 'Draft' and it never reached the stage of completion and thought it was quite a shame that an adventure of a lifetime had missed out on being published. Told you I got some posts I had saved without seeing the light of the day!

This was what I was staring at for a good 15 to 20 minutes at about 1pm on a June afternoon last year.

I was trapped in the lift! I had read tonnes of fictional stories and watched a few horror shows about being trapped in the lift, but had never imagined this could happen to me.

I entered the 14-year-old lift, of which I had been using for the past 9 years, and pressed the number indicating my floor.

To my horror, it did not stop at my floor. It just kept shooting up, up and up! Well, it wasn't exactly 'shooting' per se that threw me off my standing spot, but it was moving at a speed faster than the usual ascending speed.

I was scared stiff.

Horrifying ideas flooded my mind:

Is it a ghost making the lift going to a level that she wants me to in order to show me something to help her seek justice (like what my elder sister had shared with me about a ghost story)? Oh please don't. I am just a helpless woman who doesn't know anything!

Am I entering into a third dimension (like what many TV drama serial or movies have portrayed)?

Will the lift plunge all the way down after this?

Will I be smashed into smithereens? What should I do to minimise the damage?

Frantic as my thought process was, physically, I froze.

When it finally stopped, I realised I must have reached the maximum height the lift could go but I could not see anything from the inside.

I regained my composure and pressed the alarm, and since then, I have come to conclude that the alarm button is purely decorative. Nobody responds to the lift alarm.

My second thought was to call William for help.

His reply convinced me I should never ask him for help in future,"What's the point in calling me? I am not a technician. I can't help you."

I hung up the phone and looked for the emergency number to call on the metal button plate.

Found it!

After finding out my location, the lady on the line assured me that help was on the way in 15 minutes.

True to her word, and much to my relief, I heard some sound that resembled attempts to pull the doors apart from outside after 15 minutes.

The lobby doors were soon ajar and a maintenance guy looked up to me. I realised I was on twelve-and-a-half floor, 12th being the highest floor of the block.

He shut the doors and went away. After a while, I felt the lift jerked downwards bit by bit.

When it reached a reasonable height, the maintenance guy returned to open both the lift doors and the lobby doors for me to jump down the landing.

I was in quite a fright such that I ran all the way down the flat without thanking the man!

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