The elevator was always the last one to close. No one knew why, but it had been that way for as long as anyone could remember. In the old office building on the edge of town, where the walls were thin and the floors creaked like an old man's bones, the elevators had their own peculiar habits. Most people didn't think much of it—until they started noticing the things that happened when they rode the wrong one. It began with a woman named Lila. She worked in the third-floor accounting department and never used the elevators. She preferred the stairs, saying the air felt fresher and the silence more peaceful. But one rainy afternoon, she was late for a meeting and took the elevator instead. The doors slid open with a soft hiss, and the cabin was empty except for her reflection in the mirrored walls. She stepped inside and pressed the button for the second floor. The elevator lurched forward, and the lights flickered once before settling into a steady glow. As the elevator climbed, Lila noticed something strange. The numbers on the panel didn’t change. The display read “2” even though the elevator had already passed the first floor. She frowned and checked the buttons again, but none of them responded. The elevator continued upward, but the numbers stayed the same. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Then, just as she was about to press the emergency button, the lights went out. She heard a faint whisper, low and distant, like someone speaking from another room. It wasn’t loud, but it was there, lingering in the darkness. When the lights came back on, the elevator was still at the second floor. The doors opened to an empty hallway. No one else was around. Lila ran out, heart pounding, and never took the elevator again. Word spread quickly through the building. People started telling stories about the elevator that didn’t go where it should. Some said it only stopped at certain floors depending on who was inside. Others claimed that if you rode it alone, it would take you somewhere you weren’t meant to go. One worker, a quiet man named Marcus, swore he saw a shadow in the mirror when the elevator was empty. He described it as tall, with long fingers and no face. He never told anyone what happened after that. Then came the night of the storm. The building’s power went out, and the elevators stopped working. Most people stayed in their offices, waiting for the electricity to return. But a few brave souls tried to use the emergency stairwell. That’s when the strange noises began. Muffled voices echoed from the shafts. Footsteps tapped against metal. And once, a single, clear voice called out, “I’m still here.” No one knew who was speaking, or if anyone was even there. But the next morning, the building’s janitor found a single red shoe in the elevator shaft. It was a child’s size, and it didn’t belong to anyone in the building. The management dismissed it as a prank, but the workers didn’t believe them. They began avoiding the elevators altogether, even when they had to go up or down. Over time, the elevator became a place of superstition. Some people left small offerings—flowers, coins, or trinkets—on the floor near the entrance, hoping to appease whatever lingered inside. Others avoided it entirely, choosing the stairs even when it meant climbing six flights. But the elevator never stopped its strange behavior. It still closed last, still moved when it shouldn’t, and still whispered to those who dared to ride it. One evening, a new employee named Elena took the elevator by accident. She had just started and wasn’t familiar with the building. The doors opened, and she stepped in without thinking. The cabin was silent, the lights dim. She pressed the button for the fourth floor, and the elevator began to move. As it climbed, she noticed that the numbers on the panel changed slowly, almost reluctantly. When it reached the fourth floor, the doors opened, but there was no one there. Just an empty corridor, lit by the soft glow of the overhead lights. Elena stepped out, unsure what to do. She turned back, expecting the elevator to be gone, but it was still there, waiting. She hesitated, then walked back inside. The doors closed behind her, and the elevator began to descend. This time, the numbers moved normally. When it reached the ground floor, the doors opened to the lobby, and Elena stepped out, heart racing. She never spoke of what happened, but from that day on, she never used the elevator again. And yet, the elevator remained. It continued its silent journey, taking people where they weren’t supposed to go, whispering to those who listened. No one knew if it was truly haunted or if it was just a trick of the mind, but one thing was certain: the elevator was still there, waiting for the next person to step inside.