Thirteenth Floor Warning

The building I live in has twelve floors. No basement. No exceptions. On my first day,

an old woman in the elevator whispered, “If it stops above twelve, don’t get out.”

I thought she was joking. Last night, the elevator stopped at thirteen.

The doors opened slowly. The hallway was dark. Too dark.

I didn’t step out. But something stepped in. It didn’t press a button.

The doors closed by themselves. As the elevator moved again, I realized something

terrifying. The reflection in the mirror… didn’t match my movements.

When the doors opened at my floor, the elevator was empty. Except for a handprint