The Floor Before Heaven

I used to think that purgatory was a place people went after death, where their souls would stew in their wrongdoings until they were finally judged. That isn’t true. If that were the case, then I would have been there a long time ago. Real purgatory isn’t an ethereal realm, it’s a dingy, neglected floor in the middle of a tall, lanky skyscraper. It’s not filled with the spirits of the dead, it’s filled with the desperate and the faithful. Its occupants aren’t waiting to be judged, they’re waiting for something far simpler. They’re waiting for the elevator. I was one of them. I had spent years searching for Horace Wychwood Tower. Its location wasn’t listed on any of the city maps, and no one wanted to give me directions. Most people thought I was crazy, blowing off the stories of the elevator as mere fantasy. Then there were the people who knew better. The ones who told me to turn back. I ignored them, I had to see the elevator for myself. I finally found it after what felt like an eternity of searching. It was tucked away down a side street, a huge and imposing skyscraper with mirrored windows. It was so tall that I had to crane my neck to see the top, and it seemed to shift and writhe as I stared at it. The building seemed alive, its exterior appearing to change as I watched. I smiled, I had found Horace Wychwood Tower. I had found the path to heaven. I was ready. I took a deep breath, pushed through the rotating doorway, and stepped into the foyer. *“Welcome to Horace Wychwood Tower.”* A soft voice pierced the cool air, and I hunched my shoulders. I looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, but there was no one else in the room. The walls were lined with elevators. None of them looked old, but none of them had number on them. Each one was labelled, instead of numbered, with words like ‘basement’, ‘lobby’, ‘king suite’, ‘penthouse suite’ and ‘exit’. There were no visible cameras, but I waved up at the ceiling, just in case. *“We hope you enjoy your stay.”* I wandered over to a desk, looking for someone to talk to. A young woman sat behind it. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing deeply. I touched her shoulder, and she jerked upright. *“Can I help you?”* She looked disheveled. I shook my head. *“No. I can wait.”* I sat down in one of the chairs. She didn’t seem to care that I was there. I was still waiting when hours later a man with a suitcase wandered through the doorway. He was the first of many, and one by one, the residents of Horace Wychwood Tower streamed past me, smiling and laughing and filled with life. I stayed where I was, waiting for the elevator. *“Sir?”* After what felt like days, a young woman approached me. I stood up, rubbing my eyes. *“How long have I been here?”* She looked at me with a pitied expression. *“Long enough, I think.”* *“What?”* She sighed. *“I think you have been here for a long time. How can I help you?”* I stood taller, and forced a smile. *“I am here for the elevator.”* She looked confused. *“Which elevator?”* I started to get annoyed. *“The elevator to heaven.”* The woman smiled. *“I’m sorry, you’ll have to be more specific.”* I scowled, and gestured to the rows of elevators. *“There. Which one of them is the elevator to heaven?”* She looked at me with a mixture of horror and amusement. *“You poor idiot. I can’t give you directions to heaven. You’ll have to figure it out yourself.”* I don’t know how it happened, but I was suddenly holding a key. A flat piece of plastic with ‘ML’ stamped onto it. She had given me a key to the hotel. I looked at it disbelievingly. *“What is this?”* *“It’s a key to one of the rooms. How long have you been down here? You look like you could use a good rest.”* I scowled, and stood taller. *“I am not leaving until I find the elevator.”* I don’t know how much longer I stayed in the foyer. I waited for what felt like years. Finally, in absolute frustration, I wandered over to one of the elevators. It was labelled ‘1st floor’. I stabbed at the elevator button, and stepped back. The doors slid open. I stepped inside. *“Good luck, elevator hunter.”* I turned. The young woman was smiling at me through the doorway. *“What?”* The doors closed, and I was alone. *“You’re an elevator hunter. We get them, sometimes. People searching for the elevator to heaven. I hope you find it.”* It was a long time before the doors finally opened. I stepped out into a long, featureless corridor. There was nothing but a series of doors, each one the same as the last. I wandered the corridor for what felt like hours, but I found nothing. I found a staircase, and wandered upwards. Finally, I reached a floor which wasn’t like the others. The walls were made of cement rather than drywall, and the air was thick with the stench of mold. The walls were lined with dirty, broken elevators which looked like they hadn’t been used in years. I wandered the corridors, feeling the knobs on each of the doors. They were all locked, except for one. I stepped through the open doorway, and into a dirty, featureless room. I had been searching Horace Wychwood Tower for years, and I was too exhausted to care. I lay down on the floor, and fell asleep. When I woke, I was lying on a dirty towel. I was wet, and a woman stood over me, looking at me with a mixture of disdain and confusion. *“Can I help you?”* I sat up. *“Who are you?”* She gestured to an open door, and I wandered over to it. There was a bathroom inside, a little stall with a toilet and a sink and a shower. The shower was still running, and I could see soap suds on the floor of the stall. I turned to the woman. *“Did you shower me while I was asleep?”* The woman gestured. *“You stank. You were starting to smell like one of them.”* She gestured to the doorway, to the corridor beyond. I wandered over to it. I stepped out into the corridor, and looked around. The walls were lined with doors, and broken elevators. It was the same corridor as before. I turned back to the room. *“Where am I?”* The woman was starting to get annoyed. *“You are in room 14. This is the purgatory floor.”* I frowned, and rubbed my eyes. *“How did I get here?”* The woman sighed. *“I brought you here. How did you get in the tower?”* I frowned, and rubbed my eyes. I had no idea how long I had been in Horace Wychwood Tower, or how I got there. I did remember searching for the elevator, but not much else. I shook my head. *“I don’t know. How long have I been here?”* The woman scowled, and gestured. *“You’ve only been here a couple of days, but you’ve been in the tower for a very long time. You won’t leave until you find the elevator.”* I stumbled. *“How long?”* She gestured. *“Years, maybe decades. Maybe more than that, I don’t know. We lose track of time, down here.”* I stumbled, and fell onto the towel. I had been in Horace Wychwood Tower for decades? I remembered walking through the doorway, I remembered blowing off the warnings and searching for the elevator. I remembered this woman, showering me and giving me a towel. I didn’t remember anything else. The woman gestured. *“My name is Wendy, by the way. And you are…?”* I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out. I froze, starting to panic as realization set in. *“I don’t know.”* The woman’s face softened, and she took my hand. *“It’s okay. It happens, sometimes. What do you remember?”* I thought about it, but my memories were a jumble of confusion. *“I was searching for the elevator. I was searching for purgatory.”* She nodded. *“That must mean you’re an elevator hunter.”* I nodded. I remembered that much. *“How did I get here?”* Wendy stood up, and walked over to a little refrigerator. She opened it, and pulled out a carton of milk and a bottle of water. *“I don’t know. One day, you were just here. You were lying on the floor. You were dirty, and you stank, and you couldn’t answer any questions. You’ve been here a couple of days, ever since I found you.”* I took the bottle of water from Wendy. It was warm, but

The Floor Before Heaven

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