Essay On Topic Trapped

Have you ever been trapped in an elevator? It is not fun. I would not recommend it. I especially would not recommend it if you don’t have a phone with you, are super hungover and haven’t put on deodorant yet.

When you are stuck in an elevator time moves very slowly, especially if you don’t have a time-telling device at your disposal. Have you been in this elevator for 10 minutes? 25 minutes? 36 hours? It is impossible to know. You may even buzz the emergency button for the fourth time, just to ask Kathy from JGL Elevators what time it is. You will be shocked when she says it has only been 7 minutes from the first time you called.

When you are stuck in an elevator, your ability to ‘remain calm’ is finite. As someone who is often described as ‘laid back’ you will be surprised at how quickly the situation escalated. At first, you’re all like, “Well at least I have the Sunday Times and this gallon of milk in case I get thirsty. I’m sure someone will be here soon.” This rapidly devolves into, “If I have to pee and I still haven’t been rescued and I can’t hold it anymore, should I put the Sunday Times down first?” to just sobbing on the floor in the fetal position, calling Kathy for what is surely the 13th time in the 11 hours since you were trapped in this elevator.

When you are stuck in an elevator, you may wonder where your boyfriend thinks you went, because you have been gone for approximately seven weeks at this point. You will later find out he just assumed you stopped for coffee on your way back from the bodega and was not really concerned at all. Meanwhile, you were hurling obscenities at Kathy, demanding to know when someone was going to be there to let you out of this GODDAMNED ELEVATOR.

Eventually you will no longer be stuck in an elevator. You will be rescued by a nice man who apologizes profusely as you scramble out into the hallway and sprint up the stairs back to your apartment, garbling some incoherent words of thanks as you go. You will fling open the door, look at the clock and realize you were only in there for 45 minutes.

Surely you had not gone from stable adult human being to blubbering insane person in less time than it takes to watch an episode of The Real Housewives.

But you did. And now you know never to step foot in that demon carriage again. Or at least until you have some really heavy bags or something.

Oh and thanks Karen. Sorry I got so sassy with you towards the end.

You can read more from Veronica Sepe on her blog.

Creative Writing: Trapped! Essay


She almost floated across the empty, box-like room. A cold shiver
relentlessly weaved its way down Emma’s spine as she ran her bony hand
down the bleak wall. The fireplace glared at her – its mouth opened
wide. The unfamiliar surroundings struck her as if forcing themselves
against her weak body –engulfing her. A soft breeze seething its way
into the room from the uneven cracks underneath the door meant that
the desolate room of openness had become filled with the sigh of the
wind. It was as if it was crying, almost howling for its voice to be
heard.

The young girl slowly ebbed towards the corner of the room. Something
had caught her eye – perhaps a sense of relief from the horrible
imaginings that had been taking place the night before. She shook the
disturbing thought from her head, turned to the mirror and gazed into
the blankness. The reflection of an old withered plant squatting in
the midst became apparent. The faint hint of colour brought a sense of
calm about the room. However as she peered even closer, its branches
and leaves had become warped – twisted with fear. It was as if this
dying plant was desperately reaching out to her. A silent plea.

Emma looked down at the floor, at her old nightgown. Memories
literally flooded her; memories of when she was a little girl and how
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
of her drunken father - coming in the house late at night, only to hit
her mother and make her cry; memories of the countless men who abused
her - emotionally, physically, in every way imaginable; and a wave of
realisation washed over her. "Nothing… I have nothing here…" Emma
looked and turned away and shut out the painful memories, which were
blotched with the empty tears that had rolled off her cheek. "Don’t
leave me here… I don’t think I can take it anymore."

Almost as soon as she thought things couldn’t get worse, the most
terrifying sound rang in her ears. The sudden bolt of the bedroom door
unlatching itself made her thin face grow pale. And then she saw him.
It was at this point that her imaginings were in fact reality. Draped
in a long black coat, stood a man – his eyes pierced her skin as he
stared almost straight through her. His face – hidden by the dark
layers of shadows – was square and pointed. He lurched forward and
seemed to look straight past the young helpless girl. A tight knot in
her throat...

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