Disturbed by the Ghost of a Woman in the Elevator

Table of Contents

Ghost Encounters in Office Elevator

Jane Miller had always prided herself on being logical. Nothing frightened her easily, not deadlines, not pressure from management, not even the occasional power outages that happened during thunderstorms in downtown Chicago. She’d once read The Call Center’s Hell Story yang menggambarkan tekanan kerja ekstrem, tetapi bahkan itu tidak pernah mengusiknya. Logic kept her grounded. Logic kept her sane.

But logic also abandoned her the day she first saw the woman in white inside the elevator.

After that, nothing in her life made sense anymore.

The first incident happened on a rainy Tuesday morning, when she stepped into the office elevator as she always did. She pressed the button for the 14th floor, the doors slid shut, and everything was normal—for the first three seconds.

Then the lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then again, holding for a full second of darkness before coming back at half strength. Jane frowned, thinking it was probably a minor electrical issue. But the temperature dropped suddenly, biting through her blouse like the elevator had turned into a refrigerated chamber.

She rubbed her arms, shivering. When she lifted her head, her breath nearly stopped in her chest.

There—standing in the corner behind her—was a woman in a white dress.

She hadn’t heard her enter. She hadn’t felt movement. The elevator hadn’t stopped at another floor.

The woman’s hair hung long and straight, slightly covering her face. Her dress looked old—lace around the sleeves, fabric stained with a faint dark smear near the hem.

"Uh—excuse me, I didn’t notice you come in," Jane said carefully, hoping she was simply overtired and unobservant.

The woman didn’t respond. She stood unnaturally still, head slightly bowed, her pale hands dangling near her sides without so much as a tremble.

Jane swallowed hard. There was something wrong with the way she stood. Something impossibly wrong.

"Fourteenth floor?" she tried again, voice thin.

No answer.

The elevator jerked—hard enough to make Jane stumble. She grabbed the handrail with both hands.

The woman’s head turned abruptly to the side, too quickly to be natural, and whispered:

"He left me…"

Jane’s breath caught. The whisper wasn’t like a normal voice—it slithered into her ears, cold and sharp like a blade of frozen air. Before Jane could react, the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

The woman in white vanished.

No footsteps. No movement. No sound. Just gone.

Jane stumbled out into the hallway, chest tight and heart pounding. She didn’t report it—she couldn’t. Who would believe her?

But as the days passed, the haunting grew worse.

Two nights later, after working late on a client proposal, she stepped into the elevator to head home. Her feet ached, her mind felt like mush, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. She pressed the button for the ground floor and leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly.

Halfway down, the elevator stopped abruptly at the 9th floor.

The doors opened with a slow, reluctant slide.

The woman in white stood there again.

This time her hair looked wet, strands dripping onto the floor. Her white dress clung to her thin frame like she had just climbed out of a lake. Her head remained slightly bowed, but Jane could see more of her face—dark shadows beneath her eyes, skin pale like candle wax.

"No… not again…" Jane whispered.

The ghost stepped inside. The elevator doors shut violently, slamming as though struck by invisible hands.

"What do you want from me?" Jane choked out.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the woman raised her head. Her lips parted slightly, and in that hollow, trembling voice, she whispered:

"Find him."

"I don’t know who you’re talking about!" Jane said, voice rising in fear.

The ghost drifted closer—her feet hovering above the elevator floor. Jane pressed herself against the wall, praying for the elevator to reach the lobby.

The lights flickered again. The elevator shook violently, making Jane grip the railing for balance.

The ghost’s face snapped upward, revealing dark, empty sockets where her eyes should have been.

Jane screamed.

The elevator lurched downward as if in free fall—but then abruptly stopped and opened as if nothing happened. The lobby was calm, brightly lit, completely normal.

Jane sprinted out, gasping, her mind spinning in panic.

That night, she didn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw hollow sockets staring back at her. She turned on every light in her apartment. She checked her locks fifteen times. She even Googled “female ghost in elevator Chicago”—which only made her feel crazier.

When morning came, she couldn’t step inside the elevator again.

She took the stairs—fourteen floors up—and arrived drenched in sweat, legs burning.

Her coworker Mason noticed immediately.

"You're… uh… glowing," he joked. "Morning workout?"

Jane forced a tight smile. "Trying something new."

"Fourteen floors of something new?" he teased. But then, noticing her shaking hands, he frowned. "Seriously, what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I'm fine."

She wasn’t fine—not even close.

Every corner of the office felt too quiet. She even remembered reading The Office Ghost: Employee, sebuah kisah tentang pekerja kantoran yang dihantui, dan kini suasananya terasa terlalu mirip. Every flicker of a light turned her blood cold. Every time she passed the elevator, her breath caught in her throat.

Then something happened that changed everything.

At 5 p.m., after another long workday, she stood in front of the stairs again. But before she could start down, she noticed a man loitering near the lobby elevator—someone she had never seen before. He held a bouquet of wilted flowers, his clothes rumpled, his expression haggard like he hadn’t slept in days.

He stared at the elevator doors as if expecting them to open on their own.

Something about him drew Jane forward—not curiosity, but instinct.

"Excuse me," she said softly. "Are you waiting for someone?"

The man startled slightly and looked at her with hollow, red-rimmed eyes.

"I… I don’t know," he murmured. "I might be. Or maybe I’m just hoping."

"Hoping for what?" Jane asked gently.

The man swallowed hard and held up the wilted flowers.

"My fiancée. Her name was Lily. She used to work in this building." His voice cracked. "She died here. In the elevator."

Jane felt her heart drop.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"There was a mechanical failure. The elevator dropped several floors before the emergency brakes kicked in. They said she lived for only a few seconds afterward." Tears welled in his eyes. "I argued with her that morning. I told her I needed space. She walked out crying… and she never came home."

Jane’s breath shook. She felt the cold whisper in her ear all over again:

"He left me."

"Your name…" she whispered. "What’s your name?"

"Thomas."

The elevator dinged.

The doors slid open.

The ghost—Lily—stood inside.

But this time, she didn’t look at Jane. She looked directly at Thomas, her hollow gaze trembling.

Thomas froze, tears spilling onto his cheeks. "L-Lily…?"

She stepped forward.

"I’m sorry," Thomas whispered, voice breaking. "I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of it."

Her head tilted—slow this time, almost human—and her trembling fingers reached toward him. Thomas shivered violently when her cold touch brushed his cheek.

"Goodbye…" Lily whispered.

The elevator flickered. And then—

She vanished.

The doors closed softly.

Thomas collapsed to his knees, sobbing. Jane knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"She wanted closure," Jane said quietly. "That's why she kept appearing."

Thomas nodded weakly. "I hope she found it."

But for Jane, the haunting wasn’t over.

For the next week, she avoided the elevator. And nothing happened—no ghost, no whispers, no cold drafts. She allowed herself to breathe again.

On the eighth day, she gathered her courage. She pressed the elevator call button. The doors opened smoothly. She stepped inside, heart pounding.

No ghost.

The elevator rose peacefully.

She almost smiled.

But just before reaching the 14th floor, she heard a faint whisper:

"Thank you."

Jane exhaled shakily. She stepped out and allowed herself to believe the haunting had ended.

She should have known better.

That evening, when she left the office late again, the hallway lights flickered—only for a moment. She told herself it was the building, nothing more.

But then the elevator dinged.

The doors slid open slowly… too slowly.

Jane peeked inside. Empty.

Yet the air inside felt cold—colder than usual.

"Not again," she whispered. "Please…"

She turned away, ready to take the stairs—when she heard a soft tapping from inside the elevator.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Like fingernails against metal.

She froze. Her breath caught painfully in her throat.

"Lily…?" she whispered, even though she knew Lily had moved on.

No answer.

She waited. Silence.

Then—

The elevator panel lights flickered violently. Every button lit up at once—then went dark.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

This time louder. Closer. Right behind her.

Slowly, terrified, Jane turned around.

Her reflection in the elevator’s metallic wall stared back at her—wide-eyed, breathless, trembling.

But next to her reflection… a faint silhouette appeared.

A second figure. A shape of a woman.

But not Lily.

Someone else.

Someone new.

Someone angry.

"Oh God…" Jane whispered.

Because the figure’s mouth was open in a silent scream. Her head bent at an unnatural angle. And her arms reached out toward Jane’s reflection as though clawing for escape.

Jane backed away so quickly she nearly tripped.

The silhouette drew closer—pressing against the inside of the metal surface like trapped behind a thin veil.

"Help… me…" a voice rasped—not Lily’s voice.

This one sounded deeper. More broken. More desperate.

Jane ran.

She bolted for the stairs, nearly falling down the first flight. She didn’t stop until she reached the lobby, gasping for breath.

The security guard looked up from his desk. "Ma’am? Are you okay?"

No. She wasn’t okay. She didn’t even know how to explain what she saw. How could she?

"I’m fine," she lied, voice shaking. "Just tired."

She left the building quickly, stepping into the cold Chicago night. Streetlights glowed faintly through the fog drifting across the sidewalks. Cars hissed along wet roads. Everything seemed normal—yet nothing felt normal anymore.

She looked up at the towering building, at the rows of darkened windows, at the elevator shaft that ran like a spine through the structure.

One ghost had moved on…

But someone else was still trapped inside.

Watching her.

Waiting for her.

And Jane could no longer escape the truth:

The haunting wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.