The Late Night Diary

• 

• 

“The creatures of the night never leave you alone.”

— Anjali R.

That night as I was walking back from the garage on the ground floor, the watchman walked up to me and smiled. He informed me that the lift that had been broken since the past two weeks had finally been repaired.

I heaved a sigh of relief. Yes, it was a relief for the residents of the thirteenth floor that the lift had been repaired. I chirped like a bird and advanced towards the lift, skipping like a kid.

I got in and touched the number 13th on the touchpad. It glowed a neon shade and I got distracted into shoving the keys of my car into my pocket. Meanwhile, when I accidentally stole a peripheral glance at the touchpad, I saw that the number 8 was also glowing. I frowned.

It was an empty floor.

I shrugged the thought off, taking it that some workmen must have tried to use the lift.

It was then that I gasped and realized two things simultaneously: both hitting me hard like a flash of lightning from two directions.

My apartment didn’t have a watchman.

And the lift was of an old design. The touchpad and its numbers glowed only if they were touched from inside the lift.

I banged my fingers on the “open” touchpad and shrieked and whimpered. I didn’t have the courage to look back at the “empty” lift to find out who had touched the number 8.

Luckily, the damned thing gave way on the third floor, and I barged out. I flew down the stairs and ran for my life.

Till today I wonder… Who was it who pressed the number 8? Who, or rather, what was it in the lift with me? And who was that watchman who I never saw since?

So many questions~ and so many inevitable, unavoidable answers.