The Elevator Game

I was bored and scrolling TikTok when I saw a video about "The Elevator Game." One of those urban legends that sounded like pure nonsense: press a sequence of floor buttons, ride alone, and if done right, you'd be transported to another dimension.

Creepy, sure. But I didn’t believe it.

Still, I worked the night shift at a downtown hotel, and it had the perfect creepy old elevator. Iron gate, creaky cables, the whole horror movie setup. So one night, with nothing better to do at 2:57AM, I thought… screw it. Let's see what happens.

I got in. Pressed the floors in the right sequence, just like the video said: 4, 2, 6, 2, 10, 5, and finally, 1.

Nothing weird. The elevator dinged normally at each stop. I chuckled to myself. Waste of time.

But then it stopped at floor 10. I didn’t press that. It just… stopped.

The doors slid open slowly. I stared into an empty, dark hallway that shouldn’t have existed — the hotel only had 8 floors.

That’s when she stepped in.

A woman in a white hospital gown. Her hair covered her face. She stood beside me but didn’t press a button. Just... stared at the wall.

I was frozen. I remembered the TikTok warning: Don’t speak to her. Don’t look at her.

The elevator began moving again. I counted the floors in my head, trying to stay calm. My heart was a war drum in my chest.

I looked down at my phone — dead. Black screen.

The woman tilted her head toward me. Slowly. Like her neck was made of wet paper.

“Are you playing the game?” she whispered.

My mouth was dry. I didn’t answer.

“Did you think it was funny?”

I felt a pressure in my ears, like we were going down too fast. The lights began to flicker.

Suddenly, she screamed.

The lights burst above us, showering sparks, and the elevator jolted to a stop between floors. I screamed, too, slamming the emergency button. Nothing worked.

And then…

She vanished.

Just gone.

I was alone again.

The elevator moved by itself. Took me to the lobby. Normal lights. Normal ding.

I stumbled out, heart racing, sweat soaked.

But nobody at the desk. No noise. The entire hotel was silent.

And then, behind me, I heard the ding of the elevator.

I turned.

There she was again. Standing inside, eyes now visible — black pits.

She raised one finger and pointed.

"Your turn."