[ WP ] A hidden elevator is found behind a fake wall in a basement .

The contractor approached me while I sat at the breakfast table. He ’ d been working for a couple weeks at renovating the basement. Dianne wanted it finished in time for summer. 
 
 “ Mr. Johnson, ” he approached. 
 
 “ Please, call me Dan, ” I said. 
 
 “ Dan— ” 
 
 “ What ’ s up? ” 
 
 “ I think I ’ ve found what seems to be—'' 
 
 “ Go ahead. ” 
 
 “ I ’ m trying to tell you— ” 
 
 “ Sorry, ” I gestured for him to continue. 
 
 “ I ’ ve found what seems to be an elevator back in the spare room, ” he said. “ I was knocking down the wall and, ” he rubbed his shining head, “ it just goes down and down. ” 
 
 “ An elevator? ” 
 
 “ Please, come take a look. ” 
 
 
 I followed him to the spare room. Behind remnants of the wall and covered in dust was a small metal box. It hung by a pulley system that was caked in dirt but appeared in working order. 
 
 “ I tried shining the light from my phone but couldn ’ t see anything, ” said the contractor. “ It just goes down. ” 
 
 “ How did it get here, you think? ” 
 
 “ No idea. I ’ ve never seen anything like it—there ’ s absolutely nothing in the home ’ s outlines. In fact, the entire area is a blank—no pipes, foundations—nothing. ” 
 
 “ Well, what do you think? ” I looked into the black. “ Should we go down? ” 
 
 “ I wouldn ’ t, personally— ” 
 
 “ Why don ’ t we see just how stable it is? ” 
 
 We carried in a few rocks from the garden and placed them in the carriage. The contractor reminded me of his name after I called him “ Contractor ”. It was Dan in case you were wondering—two Dans for the price of one, right? Anyway, Dan and I lowered the carriage. It creaked and creaked for what must have been twenty minutes. We heard a distant thunk when it hit. Content, we began pulling. The bottom was dripping when it finally made it up. 
 
 “ You know Craig— ” 
 
 “ Dan. ” 
 
 “ What? ” 
 
 “ It ’ s Dan, ” he said. 
 
 “ Dan—I think I ’ m gon na give it a go. You ’ ll lower me, won ’ t you? ” 
 
 “ You really think that ’ s a good idea, man? ” 
 
 “ Yeah, yeah, ” I said, dismissing him with a wave. “ It ’ ll be fine. The kids won ’ t be home til three. ” 
 
 “ I mean I ’ ve got a lot to do today— ” 
 
 “ Okay let ’ s do it. ” 
 
 I climbed in, sitting upright in a fetal position cramped as hell. He started on the ropes, shaking his head. It was dark, black. I sat there for about twenty minutes, answering his calls. Then thunk—light. 
 
 
 Stretching, I looked around. It was still quite dark—a cave, small. The elevator sat in a thin gentle creek. I followed the brightness, emerging from the Platonic cave with my eyes shielded. The sky was a distant purple; the Sun a light blue yet brighter than anything I ’ d seen; turquoise trees dripped slime from their leaves—a discoloured forest. 
 
 I searched around, weary of getting lost. It was all so similar, like I ’ d seen it before; a memory from an adolescent dream. There were people: fishermen, hikers, families picnicking—old schoolmates, friends I ’ d forgotten—my parents sitting on a rock, backs erect looking through one another. I ran to them, the sticky grass adhering and reforming with each step. I hugged my mother around her shoulders, burying my face in her side. “ It ’ s time, Daniel!, ” she said, her face transforming into a clock. They grew into drippy trees several stories high. I flew backwards into the pudding grass. 
 
 I ran back to the elevator wishing to escape that vivid lucidity, to return to Jason the contractor. I tugged the rope and climbed in. Nothing. I tugged and tugged, waiting for him to start pulling me back. The rope fell—cut. 
 
 Edit: phrasing
