| General Fiction posted August 28, 2024 |
  |
a shrouded space
Penumbra
by Lobber
Stuck in an Elevator Contest Winner
In the heart of a bustling city, a small elevator in a high-rise office building is packed with five individuals who would never have crossed paths under normal circumstances.
Five lives are about to collide in an unexpected way.
As the elevator jolts to a sudden stop between floors, tension quickly sets in.
John, a 40-something-year-old man in a red baseball cap and an “America First” t-shirt, is visibly irate. He huffs loudly as he pounds the buttons repeatedly and randomly. His face grows redder with each futile attempt to bring the elevator back to life.
Cindy, a young 7-year-old, is looking away from John, pretending he isn’t her father. She slams her back against the wall of the elevator and increases the volume of snapping her bubble gum, knowing it irritates her father.
“Cindy, stop it!”
Cindy, with a defiant expression, crosses her arms, as if in a standoff with her father. Her stubbornness and loud gum snaps continue to fill the elevator.
Standing near them, Professor Harold McQueen, freshly terminated from his university position, leans against the wall with a defeated sigh. His academic robes feel out of place in the confined space. He nervously taps his briefcase as if it were a lifeline. Perhaps it is, since it contains the final draft of his last academic paper. The constant sound of his tapping sounds much like a nervous SOS.
Sister Mary, a nun in her mid-50s, so far, is the quietest of them all. Her demeanor recently changed when she received the news that she had only a few months left to live. As a result, she began to question her faith. The clicking of her rosary beads was once a comfort, but now the beads feel and sound like a reminder of her growing despair.
Mark, tightly packed, clutches his military jacket. He’s a young, grizzled army war veteran with a weathered tensed face and a distant gaze. The enclosed space and the claustrophobic pause seem to trigger memories and sounds he wishes were left behind. His hands twitch with each of Cindy’s snaps. Each snap becomes the sound of a rifle being shot near him in Kabul, Afghanistan. He closes his eyes and whispers, “Stop. Please stop it.” His plea is not unusual for a soldier with PTSD. He continues, but this time much louder, “Please. Stop!”
The light in the elevator flickers twice and slowly dims to a soft glow.
. . . Cindy suddenly stops snapping her chewing gum as she looks at her father for the first time in months.
. . . Sister Mary gently drops her rosary into a side pocket.
. . . Professor Harold McQueen realizes the tapping of his briefcase is both addictive and annoying. He stops his tapping.
. . . John stops his huffing and punching of buttons as he turns to Cindy.
Then, an unmeasurable moment of profound silence fills the elevator space. As everyone’s eyes adjust to the faint dimness, their mind takes them to a quiet place where they begin to reflect on their past.
John stares into Cindy’s deep blue eyes . . . they’re her mother’s eyes. Like an animated film, Cindy’s face dissolves before him and slowly transforms into the smiling face of her mother, Donna. When Donna suddenly died, John stopped smiling and enjoying life. John adored his wife. She passed away a few years ago, leaving him to raise their only child, Cindy.
John continues to struggle with his grief and the challenge of raising a difficult, unruly, and bratty child.
Cindy stares at her father’s face. After her mother’s death, John’s struggle to balance work and parenting left Cindy feeling neglected and acting out. In a high-pressure environment with her father’s intense political views and frequent absences, Cindy developed a sense of entitlement and frustration. Her father’s inability to manage her behavior effectively only fuels her rebellious streak. Despite her outward defiance, Cindy deeply yearns for a sense of normalcy and connection, which she often expresses through tantrums and complaints.
Sister Mary stares at the closed elevator door. Her “faith journey” had been one of unwavering commitment until recently. She had joined the convent in her early twenties, driven by a deep spiritual calling and a desire to serve others. Now, her faith has been shaken. Sister Mary's crisis of faith is worsened by her fear of leaving behind the work she loves and the community she cherishes.
Professor Harold McQueen is a broken man. Early in life, he had a passion for history and eventually became a respected professor. But, Professor McQueen got tied up with his university in an ongoing dispute over academic freedom. Being fired, he now faces an uncertain future. Harold's identity and self-worth have always been tied to his career, leaving him feeling lost and disheartened.
Next to Harold stands Mark who grew up in a military family. He followed in his father's footsteps, joining the army after high school.
After serving in several conflict zones, his service ended suddenly after being shot in Afghanistan. Mark now suffers
from constant nightmares. His psychological problems remain. Although he struggles with the trauma of his service, he finds solace living in a small veteran's community. However, he often feels isolated dealing with men who haven’t shared his experiences. Elevators and dark spaces can trigger his anxiety and claustrophobia. However, he remains deeply committed to helping other veterans find peace within themselves.
As the moment ticks bye, the uneasy silence among the group is broken when Cindy lets out an exaggerated whine. “I want out! This is boring!”
Her tantrum is cut short by Mark, who looks at her with surprising calm. “You know, sometimes things don’t go the way we want them to,” Mark’s voice is steady, despite the anxiety bubbling beneath. “We just have to wait.”
Professor Harold, catching the earnestness in Mark’s voice, nods in agreement. “I suppose patience is a virtue we all need right now.”
John snorts, still frustrated, “This is a disaster! My day was going perfectly until now.” John sounds much like Homer Simpson.
Sister Mary, still struggling with her fears, finds a sliver of peace in the discussion. She decides to speak up, her voice trembling as the beads roll quickly over her soft fingers. “I know this might seem like a small inconvenience, but there’s more to life than this moment. I’m struggling with my trials, and maybe this is a test and a chance for us all to reflect.”
John’s anger softens a bit as he glances at Sister Mary. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve just been diagnosed with cancer,” Sister Mary replies softly. “At present, I seem to question almost everything I once believed in. But, now I feel different. Somehow, this moment. . .I feel a new strength. It's our shared experience. Even if we’re all different.”
Mark nods thoughtfully and adds, “Sometimes, facing our struggles together can give us strength. There's a need to support each other.”
As the group shares their struggles, the tension eases. John finds himself listening more intently, his earlier frustration fading as he considers the perspectives of the others.
Professor Harold starts to talk about his fears for his future and his uncertainty about what may come next.
Cindy, sensing a shift in the atmosphere, quiets down and even begins to listen.
Eventually, there's a whirling sound. The elevator jolts back to life and resumes its descent.
As the doors open, the group emerges, changed by the unexpected encounter. Each part their way, with a newfound understanding of the others. A new hope for each emerges.
In the heart of a bustling city, a small elevator in a high-rise office building is packed with five individuals who would never have crossed paths under normal circumstances.
Five lives are about to collide in an unexpected way.
As the elevator jolts to a sudden stop between floors, tension quickly sets in.
John, a 40-something-year-old man in a red baseball cap and an “America First” t-shirt, is visibly irate. He huffs loudly as he pounds the buttons repeatedly and randomly. His face grows redder with each futile attempt to bring the elevator back to life.
Cindy, a young 7-year-old, is looking away from John, pretending he isn’t her father. She slams her back against the wall of the elevator and increases the volume of snapping her bubble gum, knowing it irritates her father.
“Cindy, stop it!”
Cindy, with a defiant expression, crosses her arms, as if in a standoff with her father. Her stubbornness and loud gum snaps continue to fill the elevator.
Standing near them, Professor Harold McQueen, freshly terminated from his university position, leans against the wall with a defeated sigh. His academic robes feel out of place in the confined space. He nervously taps his briefcase as if it were a lifeline. Perhaps it is, since it contains the final draft of his last academic paper. The constant sound of his tapping sounds much like a nervous SOS.
Sister Mary, a nun in her mid-50s, so far, is the quietest of them all. Her demeanor recently changed when she received the news that she had only a few months left to live. As a result, she began to question her faith. The clicking of her rosary beads was once a comfort, but now the beads feel and sound like a reminder of her growing despair.
Mark, tightly packed, clutches his military jacket. He’s a young, grizzled army war veteran with a weathered tensed face and a distant gaze. The enclosed space and the claustrophobic pause seem to trigger memories and sounds he wishes were left behind. His hands twitch with each of Cindy’s snaps. Each snap becomes the sound of a rifle being shot near him in Kabul, Afghanistan. He closes his eyes and whispers, “Stop. Please stop it.” His plea is not unusual for a soldier with PTSD. He continues, but this time much louder, “Please. Stop!”
The light in the elevator flickers twice and slowly dims to a soft glow.
. . . Cindy suddenly stops snapping her chewing gum as she looks at her father for the first time in months.
. . . Sister Mary gently drops her rosary into a side pocket.
. . . Professor Harold McQueen realizes the tapping of his briefcase is both addictive and annoying. He stops his tapping.
. . . John stops his huffing and punching of buttons as he turns to Cindy.
Then, an unmeasurable moment of profound silence fills the elevator space. As everyone’s eyes adjust to the faint dimness, their mind takes them to a quiet place where they begin to reflect on their past.
John stares into Cindy’s deep blue eyes . . . they’re her mother’s eyes. Like an animated film, Cindy’s face dissolves before him and slowly transforms into the smiling face of her mother, Donna. When Donna suddenly died, John stopped smiling and enjoying life. John adored his wife. She passed away a few years ago, leaving him to raise their only child, Cindy.
John continues to struggle with his grief and the challenge of raising a difficult, unruly, and bratty child.
Cindy stares at her father’s face. After her mother’s death, John’s struggle to balance work and parenting left Cindy feeling neglected and acting out. In a high-pressure environment with her father’s intense political views and frequent absences, Cindy developed a sense of entitlement and frustration. Her father’s inability to manage her behavior effectively only fuels her rebellious streak. Despite her outward defiance, Cindy deeply yearns for a sense of normalcy and connection, which she often expresses through tantrums and complaints.
Sister Mary stares at the closed elevator door. Her “faith journey” had been one of unwavering commitment until recently. She had joined the convent in her early twenties, driven by a deep spiritual calling and a desire to serve others. Now, her faith has been shaken. Sister Mary's crisis of faith is worsened by her fear of leaving behind the work she loves and the community she cherishes.
Professor Harold McQueen is a broken man. Early in life, he had a passion for history and eventually became a respected professor. But, Professor McQueen got tied up with his university in an ongoing dispute over academic freedom. Being fired, he now faces an uncertain future. Harold's identity and self-worth have always been tied to his career, leaving him feeling lost and disheartened.
Next to Harold stands Mark who grew up in a military family. He followed in his father's footsteps, joining the army after high school.
After serving in several conflict zones, his service ended suddenly after being shot in Afghanistan. Mark now suffers
from constant nightmares. His psychological problems remain. Although he struggles with the trauma of his service, he finds solace living in a small veteran's community. However, he often feels isolated dealing with men who haven’t shared his experiences. Elevators and dark spaces can trigger his anxiety and claustrophobia. However, he remains deeply committed to helping other veterans find peace within themselves.
As the moment ticks bye, the uneasy silence among the group is broken when Cindy lets out an exaggerated whine. “I want out! This is boring!”
Her tantrum is cut short by Mark, who looks at her with surprising calm. “You know, sometimes things don’t go the way we want them to,” Mark’s voice is steady, despite the anxiety bubbling beneath. “We just have to wait.”
Professor Harold, catching the earnestness in Mark’s voice, nods in agreement. “I suppose patience is a virtue we all need right now.”
John snorts, still frustrated, “This is a disaster! My day was going perfectly until now.” John sounds much like Homer Simpson.
Sister Mary, still struggling with her fears, finds a sliver of peace in the discussion. She decides to speak up, her voice trembling as the beads roll quickly over her soft fingers. “I know this might seem like a small inconvenience, but there’s more to life than this moment. I’m struggling with my trials, and maybe this is a test and a chance for us all to reflect.”
John’s anger softens a bit as he glances at Sister Mary. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve just been diagnosed with cancer,” Sister Mary replies softly. “At present, I seem to question almost everything I once believed in. But, now I feel different. Somehow, this moment. . .I feel a new strength. It's our shared experience. Even if we’re all different.”
Mark nods thoughtfully and adds, “Sometimes, facing our struggles together can give us strength. There's a need to support each other.”
As the group shares their struggles, the tension eases. John finds himself listening more intently, his earlier frustration fading as he considers the perspectives of the others.
Professor Harold starts to talk about his fears for his future and his uncertainty about what may come next.
Cindy, sensing a shift in the atmosphere, quiets down and even begins to listen.
Eventually, there's a whirling sound. The elevator jolts back to life and resumes its descent.
As the doors open, the group emerges, changed by the unexpected encounter. Each part their way, with a newfound understanding of the others. A new hope for each emerges.
Stuck in an Elevator Contest Winner |
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