As Mr. Murphy waited impatiently for the hotel lift to arrive, he straightened his tie and glanced admiringly at his reflection that gleamed at him from the lift doors. There was a sudden beep as the doors parted to reveal a sinister looking man with such a fine crop of black hair that the bald Mr. Murphy began to grow green with envy. Nonetheless, politeness checked him from creating a bad impression of himself and he greeted the man with a touch of his top hat as he stepped inside.
Mr. Murphy poked the button on the lift marked ‘69’, - the highest floor. He was conscious of the bacteria that might lurk upon it and he was pitiful that he was not wearing hand gloves. He felt his stomach lurch and churn within him for lifts always had a queer affect on him. The lift began to race past the floors, gradually picking up speed and halted suddenly on floor number 66. As if waking from a trance, the gentleman beside him shook his head and leaped out of the lift like a carefree deer.
As Mr. Murphy watched the man walk halfway down the corridor to his room, he unexpectedly froze and turned back to face Mr. Murphy. Without warning, the gentleman’s features began to melt and alter until all was left was a bald, shrivelled head, an alarming upturned nose, bruised puckered lips and empty eye sockets that welled with blood instead of eyeballs. It was a sight so ghastly that Mr. Murphy turned ashen, letting out series of gasps. He shielded his face with his hands and his suitcase to protect him from the disturbing image, his heart thrashing furiously against his chest like a wild animal trying to escape from its cage.
‘Does the devil reside within this hellhound of a creature? Is he possessed by the evil?’ The frightened Mr. Murphy mused. As he lowered his hands an inch, he noticed that the creature opposite him had yet more to him apart from his macabre appearance for his chin began to expand most gruesomely and split down the middle, exposing the tender flesh in the centre that wobbled and yet more blood trickled down his neck. The devil of a man waved his hands across his face as if he were in a deep state of confusion and advanced towards Mr. Murphy who trembled like one who knows his life will be put out in an instant.
Before the devil could do any harm, the steel doors of the elevator shut, separating them both. Mr. Murphy was shaken by the images that he was certain would haunt him for eternity. The elevator beeped again as it had finally landed on the 69th floor but refused to open. As Mr. Murphy gazed impatiently at the old lift indicator, the arrow seemed somewhat stuck as it thrashed itself against the number. Gulping, he pressed the open button, and the doors released, showing a stone wall; painted across it was the number 69.
“It cannot be!” Cried the perplexed man, stroking his chin absentmindedly and he gently prodded the stone wall with his finger. As if it were responding to his touch, the wall suddenly quaked and began to move. Mr. Murphy immediately recoiled and drew his hand away and wondered whether he was simply transferred from one nightmare to another.
Just at that moment, the lights of the lift were put out and the loud, laboured gasps that came from the depths of Mr. Murphy’s diaphragm created a tensed atmosphere. The faint glow of the emergency light filled the tiny lift.
In a secret compartment, the elevator cables snapped, sending out sparks of loose electricity. Mr. Murphy grasped the rail of the elevator tightly with both hands as the lift shot downwards, increasing velocity drastically until he could barely catch his startled breath. He whipped his head wildly around, searching desperately for an emergency lever to pull. At last when he found it, he staggered across drunkenly, almost falling over and gave it a sharp tug. With a screech of brakes, the lift halted and Mr. Murphy was thrown to the floor. When he found the strength to pull himself together and get up, he coughed and wobbled as the lift had caught fire! The mirror in the elevator cracked as blazing flames shot through and smoke filled the lift.
As the growing fire spread across the floor of the lift, Mr. Murphy fell into the burning pit it had created, screaming in terror as he hit a cold, marble surface, his skull cracking open as neatly as a coconut. Mr. Murphy gasped as he opened his eyes, finding himself next to the same gentlemen who he had previously envied. Oh, it was just a nightmare he had dreamed while he fell asleep in the lift! He felt relieved.
The elevator beeped as it landed on the 66th floor. Although it wasn’t the floor he had chosen, he dashed out not wanting to live the nightmare he had experienced in his dream. But as he turned to check if he had left anything, the man he had travelled with turned pale, and his eyes grew wide. Mr. Murphy glanced at the elevator mirror and saw that his chin had split open, that he had bloodshot eyes and other foul body parts. He waved his hands as though it would change his appearance and raised an eyebrow; however the image on the mirror did not appear to alter.
As he took a staggering step towards the elevator, the steel doors of the elevator shut, leaving the bemused Mr. Murphy preoccupied of all he had encountered in simply the last few minutes.
Mr. Murphy poked the button on the lift marked ‘69’, - the highest floor. He was conscious of the bacteria that might lurk upon it and he was pitiful that he was not wearing hand gloves. He felt his stomach lurch and churn within him for lifts always had a queer affect on him. The lift began to race past the floors, gradually picking up speed and halted suddenly on floor number 66. As if waking from a trance, the gentleman beside him shook his head and leaped out of the lift like a carefree deer.
As Mr. Murphy watched the man walk halfway down the corridor to his room, he unexpectedly froze and turned back to face Mr. Murphy. Without warning, the gentleman’s features began to melt and alter until all was left was a bald, shrivelled head, an alarming upturned nose, bruised puckered lips and empty eye sockets that welled with blood instead of eyeballs. It was a sight so ghastly that Mr. Murphy turned ashen, letting out series of gasps. He shielded his face with his hands and his suitcase to protect him from the disturbing image, his heart thrashing furiously against his chest like a wild animal trying to escape from its cage.
‘Does the devil reside within this hellhound of a creature? Is he possessed by the evil?’ The frightened Mr. Murphy mused. As he lowered his hands an inch, he noticed that the creature opposite him had yet more to him apart from his macabre appearance for his chin began to expand most gruesomely and split down the middle, exposing the tender flesh in the centre that wobbled and yet more blood trickled down his neck. The devil of a man waved his hands across his face as if he were in a deep state of confusion and advanced towards Mr. Murphy who trembled like one who knows his life will be put out in an instant.
Before the devil could do any harm, the steel doors of the elevator shut, separating them both. Mr. Murphy was shaken by the images that he was certain would haunt him for eternity. The elevator beeped again as it had finally landed on the 69th floor but refused to open. As Mr. Murphy gazed impatiently at the old lift indicator, the arrow seemed somewhat stuck as it thrashed itself against the number. Gulping, he pressed the open button, and the doors released, showing a stone wall; painted across it was the number 69.
“It cannot be!” Cried the perplexed man, stroking his chin absentmindedly and he gently prodded the stone wall with his finger. As if it were responding to his touch, the wall suddenly quaked and began to move. Mr. Murphy immediately recoiled and drew his hand away and wondered whether he was simply transferred from one nightmare to another.
Just at that moment, the lights of the lift were put out and the loud, laboured gasps that came from the depths of Mr. Murphy’s diaphragm created a tensed atmosphere. The faint glow of the emergency light filled the tiny lift.
In a secret compartment, the elevator cables snapped, sending out sparks of loose electricity. Mr. Murphy grasped the rail of the elevator tightly with both hands as the lift shot downwards, increasing velocity drastically until he could barely catch his startled breath. He whipped his head wildly around, searching desperately for an emergency lever to pull. At last when he found it, he staggered across drunkenly, almost falling over and gave it a sharp tug. With a screech of brakes, the lift halted and Mr. Murphy was thrown to the floor. When he found the strength to pull himself together and get up, he coughed and wobbled as the lift had caught fire! The mirror in the elevator cracked as blazing flames shot through and smoke filled the lift.
As the growing fire spread across the floor of the lift, Mr. Murphy fell into the burning pit it had created, screaming in terror as he hit a cold, marble surface, his skull cracking open as neatly as a coconut. Mr. Murphy gasped as he opened his eyes, finding himself next to the same gentlemen who he had previously envied. Oh, it was just a nightmare he had dreamed while he fell asleep in the lift! He felt relieved.
The elevator beeped as it landed on the 66th floor. Although it wasn’t the floor he had chosen, he dashed out not wanting to live the nightmare he had experienced in his dream. But as he turned to check if he had left anything, the man he had travelled with turned pale, and his eyes grew wide. Mr. Murphy glanced at the elevator mirror and saw that his chin had split open, that he had bloodshot eyes and other foul body parts. He waved his hands as though it would change his appearance and raised an eyebrow; however the image on the mirror did not appear to alter.
As he took a staggering step towards the elevator, the steel doors of the elevator shut, leaving the bemused Mr. Murphy preoccupied of all he had encountered in simply the last few minutes.
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