The elevator was always silent, even when it was moving. That’s what the office workers in the building on 12th Street noticed first. It never made the usual humming or clanking of old machinery. The doors opened with a soft chime, and then closed just as smoothly, like a breath held too long. No one could remember the last time they had seen an employee cleaning it or checking its systems. It was as if the elevator had been abandoned, yet it still operated. Most people ignored it. After all, there were three other elevators in the building, and none of them ever acted strangely. But for those who had to take the old one—usually because the others were out of order or too crowded—it became something else entirely. One morning, a young intern named Clara found herself stuck in the elevator. She had taken the wrong one after a late night at the office, and by the time she realized her mistake, the doors had already closed. The lights flickered once, then dimmed to a pale blue. She pressed the buttons, but nothing happened. The numbers on the panel didn’t change. The floor indicators remained blank. She tried calling out, but her voice echoed strangely, as if it had no place to go. Then, from somewhere deep inside the metal box, she heard a whisper. It wasn’t loud, but it was close, and it said her name. Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to stay calm. She pulled out her phone, only to find that it had no signal. The screen went dark. After what felt like hours, the elevator jolted. The lights came back on, and the doors slid open with a low groan. She stepped out into the lobby, disoriented and shaking. No one seemed to notice her distress. A janitor walked by and gave her a curious look before walking away. When she asked about the elevator, he shrugged and said, “That one hasn’t worked in years.” But Clara knew better. She had been inside it. She had heard the whisper. She told no one, not even her roommate. But the next day, she saw a man in the elevator again. He was wearing a suit, his face pale and expressionless. He didn’t move when she entered. He just stood there, staring straight ahead. She pressed the button for her floor, and the elevator began to move. As it climbed, she noticed that the numbers on the panel didn’t match her floor. They stopped at 13, then 14, then 15. She was certain she had pressed 10. When the doors opened, the hallway was empty. She ran to her office, but the moment she arrived, she noticed something strange. Her desk had been moved. Not just slightly, but completely. The papers were in different places, her coffee mug was gone, and her computer had been turned off. She didn’t remember doing any of that. The whispers started the following week. At first, they were just fragments of voices, like someone speaking from another room. But soon, they grew louder. They spoke in languages she didn’t recognize, and sometimes, they repeated the same phrase over and over: “You should have stayed in the elevator.” Clara tried to stop taking the old elevator, but it seemed to follow her. It would appear when she least expected it, its doors opening without a sound. One night, she found herself trapped again. This time, the walls of the elevator seemed to shift. The buttons rearranged themselves, and the numbers changed to something she couldn’t read. A figure appeared in the mirror behind her. It wasn’t her. It was a woman, dressed in an old-fashioned dress, her eyes hollow and filled with sorrow. The elevator stopped. The doors opened. She stepped out, only to realize she was no longer in the building. She was standing in a street that looked familiar, but the buildings were different. The sky was a deep red, and the air was heavy with silence. She ran back, but the elevator was gone. Days passed, and Clara stopped going to work. People said she had gone crazy. Some said she had disappeared. Others claimed they saw her wandering the streets, muttering to herself. No one knew where she had gone. But the elevator remained. It still operated, though no one used it. And sometimes, when the wind was right, you could hear a faint whisper echoing through the shafts of the building. A voice, soft and sad, saying, “You should have stayed in the elevator.” And if you listen closely, you might hear it too.