Less Than a Minute
And a long way up.
This story was originally written for the NYC Midnight 250-word Microfiction Challenge 2025. It went on to get a 9th place in the group and bought me a ticket to the second round.
GENRE: Horror
ACTION: Riding an elevator
WORD: less
The elevator shudders, beginning its noisy climb, screeching of metal doing little to drown out shrieks coming from the deep of the mine.
46 seconds, less than a minute to safety.
Frozen by inexplicable premonition, I watched my fellow muckers disappear through the hole, punched by our Komatsu longwall shearer, their excited “whoas” echoing in a cavernous new space.
I started inching backwards even before the first “what the…”, already in all out run as the noise erupted: feet scrambling, screams of panic followed by sharp clack-clacking on stone, an inhuman hiss and squelch of flesh being ripped.
The elevator jerks, pulling me out of the reverie.
26 seconds to surface…
A lonely scream wafts from below, then silence.
15 seconds…
The beams of the shaft judder with impact.
12…
Another sound emerges over the clatter—a tik-tik-tik-tak on metal.
5…
As the glow of the EXIT sign penetrates the darkness above, a blow from beneath jolts the cabin, knocking me down, helmet rolling away.
2…
As I reach out to retrieve it, an impossibly pale hand swipes over the ledge, sinking its razor-sharp talons into the reinforced fiberglass like it was made of paper.
Stop…
I jump and dash towards the exit, recoiling midstep.
The smooth surface in front is a face. A ghostly eyeless oval leans in, two small openings rhythmically swelling in and out, a thin crack at the bottom expanding into a grin, sharp hiss exploding into a bone-chilling shriek.
I close my eyes.




Elevators have always scared me more than the monster under the bed