The elevator was always there, but no one ever remembered seeing it before. It stood in the corner of a building that had no name, nestled between two old apartment complexes that looked like they had been forgotten by time itself. The building was quiet, too quiet, with windows that never seemed to reflect the sky and doors that creaked when opened, as if the structure itself were sighing. It was on the third floor, right next to a dusty janitor's closet. No one knew who had built it or why. It wasn’t part of any blueprints, and no one could remember the day it appeared. But every now and then, someone would find themselves standing in front of it, as if drawn by an invisible hand. Lena first noticed it on a rainy Tuesday. She had been walking home from work, her umbrella dripping water onto the sidewalk, when she saw the elevator. It was small, with a silver button and a glass door that reflected the gray sky. She hesitated, unsure if it was real or just a trick of the light. But when she reached out, the metal was cold and solid. She pressed the button. The elevator didn’t move. She pressed again. Still nothing. A strange feeling settled in her chest, like the air had thickened. Then, the door slid open, revealing a dimly lit interior. There was no floor inside, just a dark void. She stepped back, heart pounding, and the door closed behind her with a soft click. The next morning, Lena told her friend Marco about the elevator. He laughed it off, saying she must have been tired. But later that week, he found himself standing in front of the same elevator, alone in the hallway. He tried to ignore it, but the door opened anyway. Inside, there was a single chair, and on it sat a man wearing a suit, staring at him with hollow eyes. Marco ran, but the elevator followed. It stopped outside his apartment, and when he looked back, the man was gone. He never told anyone what he saw, but he started avoiding the third floor altogether. Then came the girl named Mira. She was new to the neighborhood, a student who moved into one of the apartments above the building. One evening, she heard a strange noise coming from the hallway. It was a low hum, like a distant radio. She followed it until she found the elevator. It was open, and the lights inside flickered. Curious, she stepped inside. The moment the door closed, the lights went out. A voice whispered, “You’re not supposed to be here.” Mira froze. The voice wasn’t loud, but it echoed in her mind. She tried to press the button to go down, but the panel was blank. Panic set in, and she screamed. When she finally escaped, the hallway was empty. No one else had heard anything. But the next day, the elevator was gone. Or so it seemed. The wall where it had stood was now smooth, as if it had never existed. But some people swore they still felt its presence, a chill in the air, a whisper in the silence. Over time, more stories emerged. A woman who claimed she saw a child in the elevator, holding a teddy bear. A man who said the elevator took him to a room he had never seen before, filled with old photographs of strangers. Each story was different, but all shared the same eerie undertone. No one could explain it. Some believed it was a trap, a place where time bent and reality twisted. Others thought it was a memory, a ghost of something lost. But the most unsettling part was that no one could remember how they got there in the first place. It was as if the elevator had always been waiting, watching, and calling. One night, a group of friends decided to investigate. They brought flashlights and cameras, determined to uncover the truth. When they reached the third floor, the elevator was there, just as they had heard. They entered, and the door closed behind them. The lights flickered, and the air grew colder. Inside, there was no floor, only a mirror. In the reflection, they saw not their own faces, but those of people they had never met. The mirrors showed scenes of lives they had never lived—weddings, funerals, moments of joy and sorrow. It was as if the elevator held the memories of everyone who had ever entered. As they tried to leave, the door wouldn’t open. The lights dimmed, and the whispers returned. “You are not meant to stay,” the voices said. “But you will always return.” They ran, but when they reached the hallway, the elevator was gone. And the next day, they couldn’t remember why they had gone there in the first place. Some say the elevator is still there, waiting for the next person to notice it. And when they do, they might never come back.