New York City 1948


3:15 p.m.-2003-07-08

twelfth floor, panic, cold sweat, insanity

Elevator concept downright strange. I wonder how many prisoners of war were tortured in the advancement of elevator science experiments. Echos of their desperate screams fade behind each floor ding.

Everytime I step into one of those boxy death traps I start sniveling internally. Vision transports to the perimeter of the elevator car. Shabby dingy unlit concrete. Creaking metallic intertwined fibers straining. Safety completely dependent on a constant stream of electricity juice.

Doors slam shut. Sounds exactly like penitentiary lockings. Freedom snatched until the pocket calculator style computer figures out which floor is yours. I leap through the opening when I smell fresh air.

Ever see those closing doors malfunction? I have. Sandwiching bones and tendons. Once an elevator tastes human flesh, it is always hungry for more.

Usually I am talking to my heart. Begging the cardiac muscles not to erupt. Ticker blazing like a mouse surrounded by rodent tang dripping with primal pheromone heat. Rolling the dice. Running the algebra in my mind. The odds that someone gets trapped in one of these teeny tiny unventilated kennels suspended in air are.......

Forget the two ton device plummeting to a concrete basement. Crushed like a beer can on a fratboy's forehead. Being trapped in there for more than five minutes would make me claw my face. Trying to chew through the fake wood panelling. Splitting my trachea in half screaming for salvation.

Others make it worse. Hold the door for you my ass. Much rather be alone while my endochrine system initiates yellow alert. Your dander and lung filtered air wafting into my nasal canals. Plus, it's just plain dangerous for bystanders if the thing stalls. Most of the planet is compelled to carry on with banal conversation to allieviate their nervousness. I would need silence. Otherwise I might garner myself a trip to the pokey after beating the snot out of the jabberer. Use all six sides of the snare cube to pummel them with.

Seriously denatured mommy nipple twister that invented the elevator. Stroking his trouser snake thinking of his victims falling apart in one of his affliction cabins. Why do you think they install hidden cameras in those things? Secret society of voyuer elevator trauma porn.

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