Now, I’m Not One to be Easily Fooled, but…




I was in a lift the other day and I had to travel from the top floor of a building to the bottom. I was squeakily neat for my appointment and was relieved when the lift finally arrived after stopping at every floor on its way up.

Stepping inside, I pressed G and waited for the doors to close and the lift to descend. …Six, five, four…I should just about make it in time…three, two, one…

‘Ground Floor. Doors opening,’ the disembodied lift voice announced. I stepped forward confidently, but the doors in front of me remained firmly closed.

‘Come on! Come on! I thought you said the doors were opening!” I gave them some encouragement by patting them tentatively, pushing a little less tentatively and thumping firmly in turn.

There was a swooshing sound behind me. You know the one, like lift doors closing.

‘Doors closing. Lift going up.’

I spun round. ‘NO!’

The lift didn’t respond to verbal abuse, so I started frantically pressing buttons: one, two, three…you know the order, but the lift was scrupulously fair. Someone had summoned from the top floor and to the top it travelled, leaving my heart and my stomach plummeting to the bottom.

‘Tenth Floor. Doors opening.’ And they did, permitting a horde of sweating humanity to enter the cage. Well, a young couple, actually. I was the one sweating.

‘Doors closing. Lift going down.’

With a smug smile, I turned to face the doors I knew would open when we reached home, ready to encourage the young couple to do likewise and thereby assist their escape from incarceration.

‘Ninth Floor. Doors opening.’ I spun round when I heard the swoosh. No-one got on. No-one got off. The young couple smiled.

‘Doors closing. Lift going down.’

I turned again.

‘Eighth Floor….Seventh Floor…Sixth Floor…’ With absolute obedience to my supposed wishes and with its infallible memory, the lift stopped at every floor I had pressed for in my initial panic, with me birling like a peerie inside it, no longer knowing which doors were which.

At last, ‘Ground Floor. Doors opening.’ I did one last, wobbly pirouette and stepped out of my funfair ride, staggered thankfully over to an armchair nearby in the reception area and sank into it to attempt to regroup and retrieve my orientation. Deciding it might be a good idea, I checked my appointment letter to make sure I remembered correctly which room I was to go to.

‘Room 1008, Tenth Floor.’ …which was, of course, why I was up there in the first place.


9 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. awriterweavesatale
    Jul 13, 2013 @ 11:55:15

    lol. We’ve all had those moments.



  2. jorobinson176
    Jul 13, 2013 @ 13:56:29

    😀 Not fond of lifts myself. You could write a whole horror novel just being in one. At least you got to see what was on all the other floors though. :Dxx



  3. Marian Allen
    Jul 13, 2013 @ 16:32:30

    At least you get to call them “lifts”. So optimistic! We call them “elevators”, which is rather pompous, I think. But also kind of fun. It sounds like a machine run by elephants. How cool would that be? For us, I mean. Probably suck for the elephants.



  4. cicampbell2013
    Jul 13, 2013 @ 22:06:43

    Thanks for reading, girls.
    Yes, I’m afraid ‘those moments’ are becoming more frequent.
    No, I’m not good in lifts…perhaps you guessed? But I’m not so great at stairs either, so, unfortunately, sometimes there’s no other choice.
    Perhaps the elephants would find it fun, Marian.



  5. Teagan Kearney
    Jul 13, 2013 @ 22:30:33

    Aptly described – and yes, we’ve all been there!



  6. Yolanda Isabel Regueira Marin
    Jul 14, 2013 @ 00:48:37

    LOL, started my day with a laugh. Good one Christine.



  7. cicampbell2013Christine Campbell
    Jul 14, 2013 @ 04:40:14

    Thanks ladies!



  8. Zee
    Jul 14, 2013 @ 06:04:32

    Haha! Very well-written, Christine! I really enjoyed this one.



  9. cicampbell2013
    Jul 14, 2013 @ 18:07:36

    Thanks, Zee! 🙂



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