Stuck in the lift (version 2)
Panic.
It
all started when I was at the lift lobby of my flat, waiting for the lift to
arrive. I was not alone. A mother, clad in an expensive-looking light blue
dress, was clutching her daughter’s hand. Like her mother, the daughter’s skin
was as smooth as china. The sound that indicated the lift’s doors were opening,
jolted me out of my deep thoughts. If I had known what was to come, I would
have heeded my inner voice on taking the stairs instead.
Tapping
my feet in sheer impatience, I furrowed my brow and grimaced at the
excruciating slow progress of the lift’s number buttons flashing in sequence.
1… 2 … 3 … 4 … Without any warning, the lift jerked to a sudden halt. I was
flung like a rag doll to the floor of the lift whereas the mother and her
daughter managed to grip the railings of the lift tightly in the nick of time.
Just as I struggled to get to my feet, the lift became enveloped in suffocating
darkness.
An
ear-piercing scream erupted from the mother’s daughter, almost deafening my
eardrums. The mother, on the other hand, attempted to console her child. I
summoned my remaining strength to get to my feet. Fear rippled through my
throat, robbing me of all oxygen. Breathing hard and trying to keep myself calm
and collected, I decided to press my ears to the lift’s door to listen for any
signs of activity outside.
At
that juncture, wave after wave of excruciating pain overwhelmed the once
peaceful nature of my stomach. I clutched my stomach in agony. My only hope now
was to summon help from the outside by pressing the emergency button on the
lift panel of buttons.
All
feelings of my initial bravado vanished instantly as the pain in my stomach
grew more excruciating with each passing minute. Praying hard for help to
arrive soon, I had to contend with listening to the incessant ringing of the
lift alarm and the reassuring voice of the mother comforting her crying
daughter.
In
the longest thirty minutes of my life, my wait was rewarded. I caught a glimpse
of the lift’s doors being pried open. A minute later and the doors were
completely opened, I had come to face with the grinning faces of a lift
technician and a relieved-looking middle-aged man. Thanking them hastily, I
took to my heels for my hoe to the beckoning toilet. Finally, my double ordeal
was over.
Today,
the incident remains a chip on my shoulder. I can still vividly recall the
panic engulfing me, the suffocating sea of darkness around me and the resultant
panic.
Panic
that I could not get out of the lift.
Panic
that help might not come in time to rescue me.
Panic.
Comments
Post a Comment