I was trapped once at a going away party for a mutual friend who was also friends with my ex-wife. She brought her current fuckpal, and I had just gotten dumped by my then girlfriend. I had to be "nice" and actually played cards with the two assholes. It was a miserable experience and my desire to be positive and cordial to the mutual friend overrode my discomfort at being around someone who I had zero interest in talking to or being anywhere near.
Oct 8, 2022·edited Oct 8, 2022Liked by Max Booth III
I once made the horrible decision to go ziplining. I'm terrified of heights, but, I reasoned, I love roller coasters, and what is a zipline but a roller coaster without a seat? Well, the difference is, when you're strapped in a roller coaster, at a certain point you just have to surrender to the machine and let it take you where it may. With a zipline, you must actually step into the void -of your own volition-. I managed to make myself do it twice, which is a miracle I do not understand, but the joy of falling a la roller coaster never materialized--just the dread certainty that I would mess up in some way and kill myself, or get stuck in the middle and have to wait for rescue, suspended an unholy distance in the air. The third time, I simply could not. I begged the guide to shove me (if it wasn't my choice, would it become fun like a roller coaster?), but alas, their liability insurance does not allow their employees to throw guests from the platform. I am not too proud to admit I cried. The guide pretended to be absorbed in the fall foliage. I eventually accepted my defeat, climbed down from the tower (a fright of its own! at least the ladder was enclosed), and waited for the little golf cart that would drive me back to the parking lot, just me and a literal child who also decided against the void that day. We were very brave about it.
I was trapped in a stairwell for like 3 hours once. It was at the office I work at and it was after hours, I had stayed late a little bit and was leaving. The stairwell requires a badge to open any door on any level from the inside, but not the outside. Well I left mine at the desk when I left. It was mostly boring and I had to piss in a corner of the floor. I tired myself out going up and down all the flights and banging on the doors. Luckily night security came by doing rounds at 9P and I got to leave, after answering a few questions
The worst place I was ever trapped was in a condominium in Florida during a tropical storm with my family. My parents had decided two things they announced to my sister and I on what they called "the last family vacation": my dad was going to seminary and they were adopting another child. I was fifteen and my sister was eleven. She was frantic about no longer being the baby. I was watching my dreams of going to college slip away as my parents were going into poverty just when I was looking for a school. We were not getting along well with each other, but being able to walk down the beach was my only consolation. Then the storm hit with its lashing rain and power outage. My parents argued in that sotto voce yelling that parents argue in when they are trapped with their children. I read all of Stephen King's It under the covers by flashlight, trying to ignore my sister weeping in the top bunk above me. I wished there was an evil clown in the storm drain wanting to spirit me away, but even a supernatural being would have drown in the torrent.
I have 2 stories that fit this prompt. One that is spooky, and ultimately harmless, and one that was a really traumatic moment in my life. I don't think anyone needs to be traumatized by reading my experience, so I'll go with the first one.
When I was younger, I spent over half of a decade living on the streets, a lot of it in Hollywood, CA. Back then (the early 00's), there was a building on Vine, between Sunset and Hollywood that everyone called The Tav. It was a small high rise, some said it was the home of a record company years before. No one really knew for sure. What was known is that it had been a squat for many years, but at least 2 fires had broken out, trapping street kids inside and taking their lives. Also that the elevator shafts were open and empty, and had claimed several poor souls who were stumbling around in the dark. Of course the stories grew about the ghosts in the building. I stayed away.
My ex and I slept in the building next door, a 2 story, shuttered strip mall called the Survivor Building, due to the sign for Survivor insurance that still adorned the outer wall. My ex and I had claimed a small inner office as our own, but there were many other people in other offices, so when the banging woke us up one day, we didn't worry at first. We went back to sleep for a bit, and in the late afternoon, attempted to get up and go about our daily routine. Unfortunately, a construction crew had been there, securing a thick piece of plywood over the small window that we used to get in and out of the building. We tried in vain to kick the board out, but it wouldn't even wiggle.
We walked through the building, waking up others and trying to find any other exit. Eventually we found a window that opened onto a small alley between the Survivor Building, and The Tav. It would be easy to get into the alley, but unfortunately, there were tall cast iron fences on both ends of the alley that would be impossible to climb. The only way out of the alley, was through another window, above a side door leading into The Tav. My ex assured me he could get me through the mythic building, so I agreed to go in.
The interior of the building was pitch black. The small amount of light coming through the window didn't reach very far. We didn't have flashlights, and cell phones weren't as prevalent yet. My ex led me through the building, the only light coming from small, scattered fires, surrounded by groups of street kids. Their shadows danced along the walls like the spirits that were rumored to populate the building. I clutched the arm of my ex, terrified of what would happen. We walked through a few floors, looking for the exit. Up and down random staircases, I felt disoriented and that we would never escape. I imagined I could feel the breath of ghosts on the back of my neck.
Eventually we came out on the roof of a smaller building behind The Tav. In the end, we had to climb down a fire escape to get away. Considering my fear of heights, it wasn't ideal, but somehow less terrifying than that building.
I'm long off the streets, and both buildings were bulldozed over 15 years ago, but that experience will always stick with me. I no longer believe in ghosts, but I can't deny the oppressive atmosphere that was in that building.
I have been trapped in Northwest Indiana for 48 years. The steel mills, the oil refineries, the decaying shopping malls and strip malls. The Casino's filled with the walking dead. The spillover of crime of Chicago and Gary, the lack of bookstores, the lack of interesting people (all of our cool people, Jean Shepherd, Michael Jackson, and Max Booth III have all un-assed the place as soon as they could.) Now I wait for my senior-citizenship so I can go to Florida where everything goes to die.
Oh, the Twitter thing! Or social media in general. You are right. When I was a little girl, I did not want to grow up to be stuck on social media for hours at a time!
I spent a couple of years as a produce clerk, and maybe one year at a store in Boston so small the storage was in the basement. The freight elevator stopped for maybe 45 minutes with me a cart jam packed with fruits and veggies. I had to call the front desk ("this is who?" "Ryan from produce") and then the manager sat at the top of the shaft telling me how this should count as my lunch break.
I was once trapped in the bathroom of a now-defunct music distributor while an instrumental post-rock band called the Boxhead Ensemble provided the live soundtrack for a screening of a documentary about a small town in Alaska. It was weird, but at least the music was good.
The Ghoulish Times | 10/08/22
I was trapped once at a going away party for a mutual friend who was also friends with my ex-wife. She brought her current fuckpal, and I had just gotten dumped by my then girlfriend. I had to be "nice" and actually played cards with the two assholes. It was a miserable experience and my desire to be positive and cordial to the mutual friend overrode my discomfort at being around someone who I had zero interest in talking to or being anywhere near.
I once made the horrible decision to go ziplining. I'm terrified of heights, but, I reasoned, I love roller coasters, and what is a zipline but a roller coaster without a seat? Well, the difference is, when you're strapped in a roller coaster, at a certain point you just have to surrender to the machine and let it take you where it may. With a zipline, you must actually step into the void -of your own volition-. I managed to make myself do it twice, which is a miracle I do not understand, but the joy of falling a la roller coaster never materialized--just the dread certainty that I would mess up in some way and kill myself, or get stuck in the middle and have to wait for rescue, suspended an unholy distance in the air. The third time, I simply could not. I begged the guide to shove me (if it wasn't my choice, would it become fun like a roller coaster?), but alas, their liability insurance does not allow their employees to throw guests from the platform. I am not too proud to admit I cried. The guide pretended to be absorbed in the fall foliage. I eventually accepted my defeat, climbed down from the tower (a fright of its own! at least the ladder was enclosed), and waited for the little golf cart that would drive me back to the parking lot, just me and a literal child who also decided against the void that day. We were very brave about it.
I was trapped in a stairwell for like 3 hours once. It was at the office I work at and it was after hours, I had stayed late a little bit and was leaving. The stairwell requires a badge to open any door on any level from the inside, but not the outside. Well I left mine at the desk when I left. It was mostly boring and I had to piss in a corner of the floor. I tired myself out going up and down all the flights and banging on the doors. Luckily night security came by doing rounds at 9P and I got to leave, after answering a few questions
The worst place I was ever trapped was in a condominium in Florida during a tropical storm with my family. My parents had decided two things they announced to my sister and I on what they called "the last family vacation": my dad was going to seminary and they were adopting another child. I was fifteen and my sister was eleven. She was frantic about no longer being the baby. I was watching my dreams of going to college slip away as my parents were going into poverty just when I was looking for a school. We were not getting along well with each other, but being able to walk down the beach was my only consolation. Then the storm hit with its lashing rain and power outage. My parents argued in that sotto voce yelling that parents argue in when they are trapped with their children. I read all of Stephen King's It under the covers by flashlight, trying to ignore my sister weeping in the top bunk above me. I wished there was an evil clown in the storm drain wanting to spirit me away, but even a supernatural being would have drown in the torrent.
I have 2 stories that fit this prompt. One that is spooky, and ultimately harmless, and one that was a really traumatic moment in my life. I don't think anyone needs to be traumatized by reading my experience, so I'll go with the first one.
When I was younger, I spent over half of a decade living on the streets, a lot of it in Hollywood, CA. Back then (the early 00's), there was a building on Vine, between Sunset and Hollywood that everyone called The Tav. It was a small high rise, some said it was the home of a record company years before. No one really knew for sure. What was known is that it had been a squat for many years, but at least 2 fires had broken out, trapping street kids inside and taking their lives. Also that the elevator shafts were open and empty, and had claimed several poor souls who were stumbling around in the dark. Of course the stories grew about the ghosts in the building. I stayed away.
My ex and I slept in the building next door, a 2 story, shuttered strip mall called the Survivor Building, due to the sign for Survivor insurance that still adorned the outer wall. My ex and I had claimed a small inner office as our own, but there were many other people in other offices, so when the banging woke us up one day, we didn't worry at first. We went back to sleep for a bit, and in the late afternoon, attempted to get up and go about our daily routine. Unfortunately, a construction crew had been there, securing a thick piece of plywood over the small window that we used to get in and out of the building. We tried in vain to kick the board out, but it wouldn't even wiggle.
We walked through the building, waking up others and trying to find any other exit. Eventually we found a window that opened onto a small alley between the Survivor Building, and The Tav. It would be easy to get into the alley, but unfortunately, there were tall cast iron fences on both ends of the alley that would be impossible to climb. The only way out of the alley, was through another window, above a side door leading into The Tav. My ex assured me he could get me through the mythic building, so I agreed to go in.
The interior of the building was pitch black. The small amount of light coming through the window didn't reach very far. We didn't have flashlights, and cell phones weren't as prevalent yet. My ex led me through the building, the only light coming from small, scattered fires, surrounded by groups of street kids. Their shadows danced along the walls like the spirits that were rumored to populate the building. I clutched the arm of my ex, terrified of what would happen. We walked through a few floors, looking for the exit. Up and down random staircases, I felt disoriented and that we would never escape. I imagined I could feel the breath of ghosts on the back of my neck.
Eventually we came out on the roof of a smaller building behind The Tav. In the end, we had to climb down a fire escape to get away. Considering my fear of heights, it wasn't ideal, but somehow less terrifying than that building.
I'm long off the streets, and both buildings were bulldozed over 15 years ago, but that experience will always stick with me. I no longer believe in ghosts, but I can't deny the oppressive atmosphere that was in that building.
I hope that fits the bill!
I have been trapped in Northwest Indiana for 48 years. The steel mills, the oil refineries, the decaying shopping malls and strip malls. The Casino's filled with the walking dead. The spillover of crime of Chicago and Gary, the lack of bookstores, the lack of interesting people (all of our cool people, Jean Shepherd, Michael Jackson, and Max Booth III have all un-assed the place as soon as they could.) Now I wait for my senior-citizenship so I can go to Florida where everything goes to die.
Oh, the Twitter thing! Or social media in general. You are right. When I was a little girl, I did not want to grow up to be stuck on social media for hours at a time!
Congrats on We Need to Do Something.
I spent a couple of years as a produce clerk, and maybe one year at a store in Boston so small the storage was in the basement. The freight elevator stopped for maybe 45 minutes with me a cart jam packed with fruits and veggies. I had to call the front desk ("this is who?" "Ryan from produce") and then the manager sat at the top of the shaft telling me how this should count as my lunch break.
I was once trapped in the bathroom of a now-defunct music distributor while an instrumental post-rock band called the Boxhead Ensemble provided the live soundtrack for a screening of a documentary about a small town in Alaska. It was weird, but at least the music was good.