Between Floors

The elevator jolted to a stop between floors, lights flickering as John pounded the emergency button. Silence answered—except for a low, wet gurgle behind him. He turned, heart hammering, to see a stranger in the corner, face obscured by a hood, clutching a dripping knife. Blood pooled at their feet, though John swore they’d been alone when the doors closed.

“You’re next”

the figure croaked, lunging as the lights died. A scream echoed, cut short by a sickening crunch, and when the elevator dinged open minutes later, it was empty—save for a smeared red streak on the wall.