Short Story Inspiration #1: The Thirteenth Shaft

CityGuru Idea by Britgirl

The Thirteenth Shaft
A Satirical Science Fiction Novel by CityGuru

He wearily got to his feet. The long day at the office had ended, and he was all too eager to sink into his warm plush bed, reading his novels. He could almost taste the fresh mango chutney that his housekeeper, Marjorie, was preparing for him.
He stepped into the elevator, then he groaned. His least favorite song was playing. Maybe Beethoven had accidentally dropped an f-bomb in the middle of a debate, or Chopin had forgotten to go to church when he was down with an extreme fever, but that was no reason for Mankind to be cursed with the song that sounds like a zombie coughing up phlegm, Final Countdown. Strangely, he could hear the alien counting down from ten slightly louder then usual.
Garcia Salsa Inc. was an unusual corporation. Inez Diaz, the CEO, was a very superstitious lady, so as a result, there was no floor 13. The floor skipped right from 12 to 14.
The song ended. "They really need to get this elevator fixed," he mumbled to himself. He had been in the elevator for 5 minutes already.
The next song began. He decided that before fixing the elevator, they should fix the music selection first. "You Dropped A Bomb on Me!" blared through the loudspeakers. He found himself wishing someone would drop a bomb on that atrocious Gap Band.
The elevator dinged. He glanced about and saw that the floor indicator indicated 13.
He took a double take. Was he insane? The loudspeakers blared the ET theme song. The doors dinged as he got out. "Holy s***!" he cried. Where the h*** was New York City?
A red blooming flower the size of Nebraska loomed in front of him. Without warning, a green gelatinous (shark, was it? It looked like a llama with fins but no mouth or eyes.) Instead, it's face was covered in big sharp teeth.
Behind the thing was an assortment of multicolored one wheeled vehicles. Driving them was the same kind of creature manipulating an abacus like device.
All of a sudden, his nose was flooded with the smell of lemon. His eyes teared up before he forced a handkerchief into his nostrils. He was allergic to lemon.
He could still smell the lemon. It was so strong it filtered through his hankie and into his nose. However, the scent changed abruptly, to the smell of a rotten pumpkin. Behind him was a street sign obscured by trees.
He felt himself falling.
When he came to he was in a strange white room. He smelled peppermint.
He suddenly felt himself dragged out of bed and marched through the entire room. They walked through a wall into a small orange cell.
The shark like creatures repeated the lemon smell. When he did not move, they slithered away, albeit angrily, and he could smell strawberry pie fresh from the oven.
He found a scrap of paper from his pocket and started writing.

To Whom it May Concern (me)
Lemon= foreigner? They seem to use it whenever I am in the room and never else.
Pumpkin? Follow? They used it whenever I would be straggling behind when they took me here.
Strawberry?= Anger?
As time went on, he added to this book.


P.S. I spent little time on this novel. I'm trying a new technique in which the whirling thoughts of the author are written down without revision. I'll see where the story comes from here.


That was an incredible read! Can't wait for Chapter 2!
Hey, thank you, CityGuru! :D - Britgirl

This is cool! - RiverClanRocks

Awesome stream of consciousness, man. - PetSounds

As soon as I saw the title, I immediately thought of the movie Shaft starring Richard Roundtree. Anyways nice! - bobbythebrony