In this weekly series called ‘Friday Fiction’, I challenge myself to write 500 words every Friday, using a ‘fictional story’ prompt and publish my work (whether it is good or not!). I hope this will work the writing muscle and also reduce the fear of putting my writing out into the world.
Today’s prompt: A sudden blackout traps people in an elevator—but what happens next is stranger than anyone could expect.
Anna’s trousers were too tight. Every step was a silent prayer that the seams would hold out. As she entered the building, she imagined one hundred eyes ogling her awkward shuffle across the patterned tiles. She traced the pattern as she walked across the huge lobby, wishing someone else had donned her old work trousers and coat, and that she had spent the morning as usual – shabby dressing gown, baby in one hand, coffee in the other. Miraculously, she was fifteen minutes early for her 9 o’clock interview. She made a beeline for the elevator, a trusted friend that would deliver her upstairs without stretching her struggling trousers further. She immediately studied the black and grey speckled linoleum, scanning for patterns to distract the mind. Two people entered the lift after her, pressed the buttons. The floor lurched lazily upwards, then came to an abrupt halt. Lights flickered and died.
“Aw well this is fucking great.” A woman’s voice huffed.
Anna heard heels click clack and buttons pushed furiously.
“No power. Fucking amazing. It’s not like I’ve got a million things to do today.”
Anna spoke timidly “Do you think we’ll be stuck long?” She tried to sound collected, but the dark terrified her. That – and everything else these days.
“You’re scared of the dark.” A soft grandmother-sounding voice said. Not a question.
“How did she know?” Anna thought to herself.
“Good god. I really don’t have time for this.” The other woman said.
“And you’re scared of losing everything.” Stated the older lady.
There was a pause. Then –
“Lady, I don’t know what kind of drugs you’re on but instead of talking about fears, let’s focus on getting ourselves out of here.”
Anna talked back and forth with the click-clack heels lady. There was no phone signal, no wifi, no power in the lift. They banged, shouted, screamed. The other lady stayed still and silent. After a while, Anna slumped on the floor. The bloody job interview was gone.
“You’re scared you’ll never work again.” The old lady’s voice made her jump, having been silent since the last time she spoke.
Anna welled up. She was meant to reclaim her life, and instead, she was crying in a dark lift. Fuck it. She couldn’t bear the silence anymore anyway.
“You’re right,” she sobbed. “I’m scared of the dark, I’m scared I’ll never work again, I’m scared my trousers will split, that I don’t love my children enough, that I’m too fat, that I made the wrong choices. I’ve lost who I am.” Her voice cracked. “God, I’m sorry, you didn’t need to hear that.”
“I think she did.” the older woman said gently.
“Who? Me?” the woman in heels scoffed. “I’m stuck here with two crazy people.” She banged doors and pressed buttons, an echo of frustration.
After 10 minutes, the angry woman tired and slumped down next to Anna.
“Look, I’m sorry. You’re not crazy. I don’t always make the right decisions either.” Another sigh. “Honestly, I’m scared I’ve lost who I am too.”
The admission stopped the whirring in Anna’s mind.
“Thank you for saying that. I probably am crazy. You sound busy, important, purposeful. People out in the world need you.”
The woman snorted. “If this were to all fall apart, if this firm were to disappear, nothing would happen. I used to think I was making a difference. My friends don’t need me, my family doesn’t need me. I come home to an empty house.”
“Sounds like bliss.” Anna blurted. “Sorry. I just mean people at home do need me. But I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m on autopilot. Chores, routines, collapsing in front of the TV, repeat. It’s dull. Not like your life”
“Ha. My life exactly.”
Anna raised her eyebrows. “Well, when you put it like that-”
“So you don’t want what I have.” The woman said triumphantly.
Anna laughed bitterly “I need out of the house though. I need to talk. Like this.”
“Do I sound like I normally talk to people like this?” The woman chuckled.
“No offence-”
“None taken”
“-but no. You sound like you need a friend. So do I.” Anna said, shocked at her candour. “I mean, I have friends. But we talk about kids, husbands, houses. Events – not ourselves. You’re the first person I have admitted to that I don’t know who I am anymore. And you’re a stranger in a lift. No offence.”
“None taken.” Anna imagined her winking. Then, she was back into action mode. “So how do we find our way back? To caring again? To fucking knowing who we are?”
The two women sat in heavy silence. Then the third voice startled them. “Truth. You feel more like yourselves already.”
Both nodded. “I’m sorry for calling you crazy too, by the way.” Anna’s new friend said.
“Well, none taken.” Their elder chortled. All three giggled, each new snort egging the other on, until they tumbled into hysterics. Anna felt light. Before she knew it, more words poured out: she covered everything from childhood trauma, her sex life, regrets about motherhood. She acknowledged what she loved and lacked, and they brainstormed ways to find balance. The click-clack lady reciprocated, talking about mental health struggles, trust issues, her desire for more friends, a partner, mental relaxation. They laughed, they cried, they hugged. The old lady said little, but was a comforting presence. Eventually, they enjoyed the silence together.
Time slipped away, until the lift jolted. The lights flickered on, and in what felt like a split second, the doors slid open.
“Are you two okay?” A man in overalls called from a brightly lit hallway. “Sorry ladies, we lost power in the building for a few minutes. Lift jammed.”
“A few minutes?” Anna gasped. “We were in there for hours!”
The man laughed. “I’m sure it felt that way.”
Anna turned, seeking her companions. A suited woman with short dark hair half-stood, like she had seen a ghost. There was no older woman. The man waved them out, and Anna followed the smartly dressed woman to nearest conference room. She thrust her wristwatch towards Anna’s face, her green eyes glistening: 8.55am. Anna’s first thought, absurdly, was that she could still make her interview. Time had begun again. The friend took Anna’s CV out of her briefcase and handed it to her. “Is this you?” Anna nodded.
“You’ve got the job. I need you.”
A glowing smile stretched across Anna’s face and she looked up confidently, unafraid for the first time in years. “I need you too.”
Linggow 