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.

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