There Was No 9th Floor… Until Tonight
A building with only 8 floors. An elevator that doesn’t stop where it should. And a list of names… including his. Some doors aren’t meant to be opened.
The building only had 8 floors. Everyone knew that.
It was written everywhere.
On the walls. Inside the elevator. Even on the emergency
plans. 8 floors. No more.
No less. Eduard had lived there for two years.
Nothing strange had ever happened.
Until that night. It was late. Too late for visitors.
Too quiet for comfort.
He stepped into the elevator. Pressed 6. And waited.
The doors closed. . Silence.
Then— the panel flickered. For a second… ..he saw someth
ing
wrong. A button. At the
bottom. 9. He froze. There had never been a ninth floo
r.
Not once.
"They must've added it,"
he muttered.
"Renovations or something."
But something felt off. The air felt… . …heavier.
Without thinking too much, he pressed 6.
The elevator started moving… … but it didn't stop.
It passed 6. 7. 8. And kept going.
A cold weight dropped in his chest. The screen flickered:
9. Ding. The doors slid open.
Darkness. Not a normal hallway. No lights.
No numbers. Just a long corridor. Too long.
Too quiet. He stepped out. One step.
Then another. Behind him— the doors slammed shut.
He turned. The elevator was gone. Just a wall.
No buttons. No escape.
His breathing got faster. Then— a sound.
A whisper . From the end of the hallway.
Soft. Calling. His name.
"Eduard…"
He didn't move. He couldn't.
The whisper came again. Closer this time.
" Eduard…"
The lights flickered.
For a split second he saw something.
Standing there. Waiting. Smiling.
And then— everything went dark.