Hold Please

You could hear the feet of the old man from the third floor, shuffling along the polished floors of the lobby as he headed to the elevator. A young couple and their dog, a small white furry thing that was now all the rage as a city dog, waited impatiently. The two of them discussed the pros and cons of purchasing a doggie sweater. He said no. She wanted some kind of tartan plaid thing as a celebration of the holiday season. The doors tried to close again and reluctantly he pushed the open door button as they waited for the old man.

The foot shuffling got louder and the young man rolled his eyes. His wife slapped his arm, tugging at the leash of Buttercup who grimaced at being choked for a second.

“Be nice,” she muttered, “you will be old one day.”

“Not like that. The man is mummified, he scares the children, hell he scares me.” A cough, a deep raspy kind of cough broke up their conversation as an older man stepped in. He had white paper thin skin exposing miles of blue veins. Scraggly hairs stuck out from under his cap, his ears and his nose. He took off his cap and thanked the two of them for waiting.

“Three please,” he requested as the doors strained to close.

The elevator lurched up and made its way to the first floor from the lobby and then stopped. Not a slow stop, but an all stop, halting momentum. Buttercup whimpered. The young man began to punch and bang the buttons on the panel. The older man raised his hand to stop him.

“Banging the buttons won't help. It's old like the building, like me and sometimes old things just slow down and stop. It's the price we pay to live in a stately architectural place such as this. Lots of history here, right here in this building. I can't remember ever being stopped in here for more than two hours.”

“Two hours. You have to be kidding me.” His wife grabbed his arm again, whispering to him to calm down.

“How long have you lived in the building? Since it was built?” His wife slapped his arm again tugging at Buttercup's leash who had fallen asleep and was now jerked awake by her sudden movement.

“Almost. I grew up here. My father was the architect and as payment for the design he was given an apartment on the third floor. Lots of bad things seem to happen in this place. Suicides, murders, mysterious disappearances, unexplained fires.”

“Get out of here. You are just trying to be scary for Halloween.” The young man rolled his eyes.

“No. My sister jumped from the unfinished fifth floor. Some say she was pushed by a jilted lover. The first elevator looked like a gilded birdcage and one day dropped from the top floor to the basement. Six were killed that day. Then there was the fire that disfigured the film actress and the Kearney twins who disappeared one spring morning on their way to school, never to be seen or heard from again. There's more, I have a scrapbook in my apartment. You are welcome to stop by and read the clippings if you want. Three A.”

“Maybe some other time.” He slapped the buttons again in a vain hope to get the old beast moving. The four of them remained quiet for a time. The old man wiped his face with a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket while the young man just stared at the buttons transfixed at the non-movement of the indicator lights. Buttercup snored on the floor while the young woman played with her cell phone.

“I never realized this before, but there is no reception in here. That sucks.”

That feeling of claustrophobia snuck through her body and she began to pace. Beads of sweat began to form on her perfectly made up face and soon small rivulets of copper toned colored water slid down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her sleeve and began to breathe heavily. Panting she moved to the panel and began to bang on the buttons, forgetting that Buttercup's leash was wrapped around her wrist. As she banged against the elevator wall the little dog was pulled and choked and soon he lay in a lump on the floor.

The sight of the white furry ball stationary on the floor broke her completely. She began to yell, first at the elevator, then her husband and then the old man beating her fists against his chest. The old man fell backwards against the wall, dropping his cap to the floor as he grabbed his chest. Falling to his knees he turned white gray blue, lifeless and then slumped in the corner.

The young man looked at his wife, her eyes red, bloodshot, almost on fire as she panted heavily forcing him in to the back corner. He tried to fight her away, but she was quicker and soon had her hands around his throat. Her strength coming from adrenaline and the fear deep inside of her as she lifted him up by the throat and watched as he gasped. He begged her to stop and as he whispered his final I love you she tightened her grip around his throat.

The elevator jerked to a start and then sped up to the top floor where the doors opened across from the entrance to the roof. The roof top closed for construction of a new outside lounge and bar was littered with lumber, metal studs and tools. She walked through the debris dragging the lifeless body of Buttercup and stood at the edge of the roof where she pulled Buttercup’s leash from her wrist. The night air was an angry kind of dark and then compelled by some universal justice she leapt in to the cool autumn air.


word count: 987