"The Elevator to Realms" Act 12: Comeback

 Vaibhav

I sat hunched over my laptop, the pale glow of the screen casting sharp shadows across my face. The time on the corner of the screen read 1:30 AM. I was not even remotely tired. I searched and rummaged through tabs and browsed various universities in Bangalore. In another tab, I had a question from Quora open. It said, "How to get into good Colleges. Should I consider dropping a year?"

Familiar stuff every student has to go through at least once in their life — the late-night panic scrolls, the self-doubt spirals, and that overwhelming feeling of being a tiny dot in a giant, competitive universe.

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a tired sigh. The chair creaked under the weight of my thoughts more than my body. My eyes felt dry, but sleep wasn’t anywhere in sight. Maybe a cup of coffee would help, or maybe it would just give me something to do other than spiralling into yet another search for it.

I pushed my chair back and stood up, the room bathed in dim yellow light from my bedside lamp. Everything was still — eerily still. I padded out of the room and down the stairs, the cold floor sending shivers down my feet. The kitchen was dark, quiet. I didn’t bother turning on the light. I knew where the coffee jar was.

Spoon. Mug. Hot water. A bit of sugar. The familiar bitterness rose as I stirred the mixture. The light from the fridge briefly lit up the kitchen when I opened it to grab some milk. I added a splash — just enough to take the edge off. Leaning against the counter, I took a sip. It was terrible. Burnt and too sweet. Just the way I apparently liked it at 2 in the morning. Strange, I know.

As I stared blankly into the dark hallway, a sudden thought struck me — not a new one, but one I had been trying to avoid.

The Elevator.

That strange, humming, time-twisting elevator. That glowy stone. That feeling. It hadn’t left me. If anything, it had gotten louder in the silence. And the growing curiosity over time never stopped haunting me.

What the hell was it?

And why did I feel like I needed to find it again — or something connected to it — before doing anything else with my life?

I clutched the warm mug a little tighter, thinking about that Glowy stone. Before I could stress on it much, I decided to get back to my room. On the way, I was surrounded by thoughts: The Glowy Stone. I had to find it before anything else. But why? What was its purpose? Was I chasing a dream, or something darker? What if I got lost—lost in a place that didn’t follow the rules of time and space?

"Let it be. I always find myself lost in thoughts at this hour." I said to myself as I leaned back in my chair. 

A sudden tug in his chest. Pooja.

I grabbed my phone and unlocked it. No new messages. I scrolled through my call logs, and her name was there. Tucked between unanswered calls and forgotten numbers. My thumb hovered over the name "Pooja ❤️" 

"Should I.. call her? Damnit! What should I even say", I said as I let out a sigh and rubbed my forehead and my hair with my eyes closed. 

Instead, I opened up my WhatsApp.

A new display picture. Pooja looked radiant, her soft smile laced with something unfamiliar—distance.

A nostalgic smile curled on my lips as I typed out a simple ‘Hey’. But before I could hit send, my gaze fell on our last conversation:

Pooja: "You don’t even have time for me, Vaibhav. You’re just killing my time, and yours too. Please take care of your future. And I wish all the very best for you. Please be well."

A bitter taste filled my mouth. The fight. The worst we ever had.

I locked my phone and tossed it onto the bed. Running a hand through his hair, I let out a heavy sigh.

*Ding*

His laptop screen flickered with a chime—a new email.

“Thank you for your application. We are processing it, and we will get back to you as soon as possible.”

I scoffed. "Right... My so-called future. She might be focusing on her entrance exams right now, and here I am." Minding my own business, I stirred my coffee as I heard another chime from my laptop. Well, that might be just another email. I chuckled.

But. As soon as I took a sip of my coffee, I looked at the screen.

A Telegram Message.

I banged the coffee mug into the table. The guy was from one of my shady groups, which had guys who did urban exploration and stuff like that. It had a new post:

“Guys! Check this out. I found a glowy orb thingy in my elevator!”

A picture followed.

My heart stopped.

The same stone. The exact same one.

Without hesitation, I clicked on the sender’s profile and called.

The line buzzed before a groggy voice answered, “Uh…who’s this?”

“I saw your post. That thing in the elevator—I need it. How much?”

A complete Silence. For a few seconds, as if the person on the other side was not able to comprehend what had just happened.

“Dude… I don’t even know what it is,” the guy mumbled. “But if you’re that desperate, make it worth my time.”

“How much do you want?”

“1000 bucks.”

I gritted my teeth. "Aargh!! I don't have time to negotiate. Fine. I need it right now as soon as possible,” The guy chuckled. “Before morning, huh? Parents asleep?” He's mocking me. I ignored the comment. “Just tell me where to meet.”

“D-263, 75th Road. Be quick.”

I hung up. I grabbed his wallet and quietly stepped out of the house. Calling a cab was safer than sneaking out on foot. And besides, the society's patrolling guards would be suspicious if they caught me jaywalking.

The cab pulled up, headlights slicing through the dark. I slid in.

“Where to, Sir?”

“D-263, 75th Road. And quick.” I slipped the driver a tip up front. "Here. Have a cup of Tea."

The cab driver smiled at me. The car rumbled forward with its front wheel drive, the front wheels spinning. The city’s late-night quiet stretched like an uneasy breath. As they drove, a realisation dawned.

What if this guy were dangerous?

I patted my pockets. No knife. I should've taken one, to be honest.

“Shit!”

But there was no turning back. I exhaled, staring out of the window as the cab sped through the night.

The car slowed. “Here we are, sir,” the driver announced. My phone vibrated. A message.

“Where do we meet? I’m at the location.”

“Come down the alley.”

I could feel my gut getting clenched.

"It's already too messed up...", I muttered. 

"Sir, what is it at this hour? And at this place? Mind you, robbers and thieves are sprawling all over this block. Be careful."

The alley was secluded. Shady. A perfect setup for getting robbed—or worse. I nodded at the driver and thanked him as I got out of the car. The driver drove away, leaving me in dead silence. I hesitated before stepping forward.

Another text.

“End of the alley.”

I swallowed hard. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I took my first step into the darkness.

The alley stretched like a tunnel carved out of shadows. A dim orange light from a flickering streetlamp barely reached my face. Trash bins lined the walls like silent sentinels, and a slight breeze across the alley painted the perfect recipe for an imminent threat. A rat scurried past, vanishing into the gloom. 

Each step I took felt like it echoed louder than it should. My hands were clenched in the pockets of my hoodie, not from the cold—but to hide the tremble.

Another message buzzed.

"Almost there, look for a door with a red mark."

My eyes scanned the crumbling walls. There — a rusted metal door, barely hanging on its hinges, with a crude red “X” spray-painted across it.

I hesitated. 

Something is definitely wrong with this. I don't get it. Why this place for a meetup? The air itself felt thicker. Like the alley had swallowed sound and time, too. The world around me felt heavier and was crushing my confidence so much. Even my breath came out muffled, as though reality had lowered my volume. It was getting harder for me to breathe.

I raised a hesitant hand and knocked.

Nothing.

No reply.

Just as I was about to knock again, the door creaked open slightly. The noise filled the air around me. No face, just blackness behind it.

A voice from within. Hoarse and low. "You came fast.. I wasn't expecting you to be here this quick. This might be something... very valuable to you." He said.

I tried to peek in "Where's the stone?" I said in a demanding tone. "I got the money".

A short, raspy chuckle. "Come in. I don't talk through doors."

"Show it to me first," I demanded, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

A long pause...

..

..

Then, from the darkness — something rolled out. It bounced once, twice, and stopped right at Vaibhav’s feet.

The stone.

Same glow. Same pulsating throb of energy. It almost called to me...

I reached down slowly, my hand trembling as my fingers closed around it.

The moment my skin made contact, the world shifted. Completely...

A low-pitched hum and bass buzzed in my ears. The sky darkened further, like clouds had blanketed even the moonlight. The smell of burning wires filled the air. I could hear crackling sounds all around me. Almost like it was breathing. My breath hitched. I looked down at my hand and my wrist holding the stone. I could clearly see my veins glowing blue, and slowly the glow was paving its way further into my arm, following the veins as if it were trying to reach my heart. I never got the chance to touch it bare-handed, and this feeling of a sudden surge of energy was surreal. 

"Holy shit! Wh.. What's this?!" I said to myself... An another world...

And then. Suddenly, a hand shot out from the dark doorway and grabbed my wrist.

Cold. Inhumanly strong.

I gasped, trying to pull back, but the grip tightened.

“It's not about the money. Not at all!!” the voice growled, no longer groggy, no longer amused. “This stone doesn’t belong to you!”

A sharp thud slammed into the side of his ribs.

“Gahh!” I gasped, stumbling sideways. A fist followed, cracking into my jaw.

Pain exploded across my face. 

I fell to the ground, palms scraping rough concrete. I was dazed and blinking. The stone. I lost it. The sudden blow threw it away. The figure lunged.

I rolled away just in time, instinct kicking in. The attacker’s boot slammed down where my head had just been.

“Why—why the hell are you hitting me!” I yelled! Grabbing a chunk of gravel from the ground and flinging it blindly. It hit the figure’s leg, barely slowing them down. Another punch landed, this time across my nose. White-hot pain. Warmth dripped down to my lips—blood. It ran freely now, from both his nose and a cut above his brow.

The figure grabbed me by the collar.
“You shouldn’t have called,” the voice rasped—distorted, unnatural.
“The stone doesn’t belong to you.”

Before I could react, the figure’s hands closed around my throat—inhumanly strong. Cold, tight, unyielding. Like steel cables.
I thrashed.

But it was no use.

The pressure grew.

..

..

One second... Two..

My lungs screamed. No air. No voice. Just gurgling silence.

He’s going to kill me.

That thought crashed into my mind like lightning.

My fingers clawed at the attacker’s wrists, kicking blindly, but the grip didn’t loosen.

My eyes fluttered. The world started to blur at the edges.

Then—

Fireflies.

Tiny specks of light. Gold. White. Faint green.
They danced across my vision, pulsing gently like the glow of the stone.
They weren’t real. But they felt real.

The alley dissolved into shadow and sparkles. Time bent. Sound muffled.

My head lolled. My limbs felt heavy—noodles of dying flesh.
Each second was a scream inside my brain.

This is it... This is how I die. For a stupid stone.

And then—

Her smile......

Pooja..

Lying next to me on that winter afternoon, under the blankets in my room.
Our hands entwined.
She had fallen asleep mid-conversation, her breath soft, her head resting on my shoulder.
The TV was still playing something stupid in the background. But I never watched it.

I only watched her.

That little way she curled up, pulling the blanket with a half-smile.
That moment when she woke up, sleepy eyes searching for me—and she whispered,
"You were still here... Vaibhav.. Stay. Stay a bit longer.... For me?.. For us.. Please don't let go..."

Flash.

Laughter echoing across that monsoon walk under one umbrella—her hair dripping, eyes sparkling like mischief itself.
She pushed me into a puddle on purpose. I pretended to be mad.
She kissed me anyway. 

All of this while we were on the way to our very first date.......

Flash.

That night on her birthday, when I sang—badly—and she said,
"You can't sing for shit... but you always try. That's why I love you."

Her face shimmered in my mind like a photograph dipped in water.
The last time I saw her smile was before things broke between us.

Why did I let her go?

And then—another face.

My mother’s—teary-eyed, hiding behind her kitchen smile, telling me not to stay out too late. And to keep things simple between me and Pooja. To concentrate on my future. To eat well and to study well.. 

"You'll make me proud my Son.."

My father, gruff but kind, handed me his old watch, saying,
"Son, you’ll understand time better when you lose some."

And I never really understood that—until now.

"Time.... I .. Time and...Time and Space .. it's- I ... ", I thought.... to myself ...

Their voices began to fade into static.
Even Pooja’s laugh, once the melody of my world—was being swallowed in silence.

My chest burned.
My throat screamed for air.

Was this it?
Just memories and regrets blinking out, one by one?

My eyes rolled back.
I was sinking.

Into the fireflies.
Into the dark.

---

..

Then—
Somewhere, buried in my chest, something snapped awake.
Not yet.

I lifted my knee with all the strength I had left.

Crack.
A hit to the figure’s stomach.
A grunt.

..

The grip didn’t break.

Another knee. Sloppier. Desperate.
Then—

..

Another one.

Thud. Crack. Wham!

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see.
The fireflies were everywhere now—swarming his vision like a collapsing starfield.

A distant ringing in my ears. My brain is a broken radio dial. I was drowning in the air.

But one final knee, aimed straight and furious, landed clean—the hardest blow yet.

The figure staggered.
The grip slackened.
Air whooshed into my throat like ice water, sharp and jarring.
I collapsed to the ground, coughing violently, seeing nothing but light and dark flickering like dying film reels.

Gasping. Bleeding. Dizzy.

The stone..

My eyes locked onto it.

The stone.

I crawled, scraped elbows raw, and grabbed it—fingers closing around that warm, pulsing light like it was my last breath.

And then—I ran. Legs stumbling. Vision blurring. Pain slicing through my chest with every stride. I didn’t look back. The fireflies were still there, fading now, blinking out one by one. But I was alive. Just barely.

And the stone was mine.

Every step hurt—my ribs throbbed, blood was flowing down my face, staining my shirt, but I didn’t stop. My breath came in ragged gasps, feet slapping the pavement. The city was still asleep. Dead silent. No help.

I finally stumbled onto the main road, collapsed near a tea stall shuttered for the night. I bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. The stone was still clenched in my fist, faintly glowing. Pulsing. It felt heavier now. The veins slowly grasped the glow into themselves. Slowly climbing up my arm.

"Shit… should’ve brought a damn knife!" I muttered through bloody lips, spitting red onto the sidewalk. "Cheeky.. Bastard!" I yelled as I cleaned my mouth with the rolled-up sleeve of my shirt. Staining it into blood red.

I leaned against the wall, wiping my face with my sleeve again after spitting blood again. Every inch of me ached. I kept my left arm around my tummy. But as the stone warmed my palm, I knew it had been worth it. I looked at it.. Thinking.....

Someone didn’t want me to have it. 

Which only meant one thing.

Who was he....

***

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