The Missing Floor (Part One)

The Missing Floor

Part One: The Secret That Began with a Knock on the Door:

Hamed was a 17-year-old boy who had never believed in ghosts or anything like that—until what happened to him in the building where he lived.

About a month ago, Hamed and his mother moved into a new apartment in an old building. The building was strangely quiet, and its elevator was old, making an unpleasant noise every time it moved. They lived on the third floor, which was the highest floor in the building. Above it was the rooftop, meaning the building had only three floors in total.

The first few days passed normally, until one night when Hamed was returning from a friend’s house at midnight. He entered the building, stepped into the elevator, and pressed the number 3.

The elevator started moving, but suddenly stopped between the second and third floors. All at once, the lights went out, strange numbers appeared on the elevator’s display, and the indicator stopped at the fourth floor—a floor that didn’t even exist.

When the lights came back on, Hamed found the elevator doors open onto a strange hallway. The walls were gray, and at the end of the hallway stood a wooden door with the number 4 written on it.

He was confused because there was no fourth floor in the building.

He was about to close the doors when he heard a woman’s voice coming from the end of the hallway.

“Hamed? Wait a few seconds.”

He froze in place. The woman knew his name, even though he had never seen her before.

He quickly closed the doors and pressed the number 3. The elevator took him down to the third floor. He entered the apartment and told his mother what had happened. She laughed and told him that he must have been tired and imagined the whole thing.

The next day, while he was going downstairs to buy something, he ran into the building’s caretaker. He was an elderly man named Uncle Sayed, so Hamed asked him about the fourth floor.

The moment he heard the question, his expression changed.

“Did you see something upstairs?” he asked.

“I saw a hallway and a door with the number four written on it,” Hamed replied.

The old man looked around, then leaned closer and spoke in a low voice.

“Listen, son. If the elevator stops at that floor again, don’t get out, no matter what you hear.”

Before Hamed could ask him why, the old man walked away.

Two days passed, and Hamed began to forget about the whole incident—until he woke up at three in the morning to the sound of knocking on the apartment door.

Exactly three knocks.

He got up and looked through the peephole, but there was no one there. He was about to go back to bed when he heard the same woman’s voice from behind the door.

“Hamed, open the door. I know you’re awake.”

He stepped backward, his heart pounding rapidly. Suddenly, he heard his mother’s voice coming from the kitchen.

“Hamed, why are you standing by the door?”

He turned toward her and saw her walking into the living room, looking at him in confusion.

At that moment, the voice behind the door spoke again, using his mother’s exact voice.

“Hamed, don’t listen to her. I’m your real mother!”

He looked at his mother standing in front of him. She remained silent, and her expression changed. She grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the door, whispering:

“No matter what happens, don’t look through the peephole again.”

Suddenly, the knocking stopped.

The next morning, Hamed went downstairs to look for Uncle Sayed so he could understand what was happening. He found him sitting in front of the building. The moment he saw Hamed, he said:

“She spoke to you last night, didn’t she?”

Hamed nodded.

The old man fell silent for a moment, then pulled an old photograph from his pocket and handed it to Hamed.

It was a picture of a family from about twenty years ago: a man, a woman, and a little boy.

The boy looked exactly like Hamed.

Written beneath the photograph were the words:

Hamed, 2006.

Hamed looked at Uncle Sayed and asked, “Who are these people?”

Looking directly into his eyes, the old man replied:

“That was your old family, Hamed. And you were seven years old.”

Hamed laughed nervously.

“You’re joking, right?”

Uncle Sayed stood up and looked toward the building’s entrance.

Then he said something that made Hamed’s blood run cold.

“Then ask your mother why there isn’t a single picture of you from before you turned seven.”

Hamed ran upstairs to the apartment and opened the old photo album he had.

There were pictures of him from every year, but not a single one showed him before he turned seven.

At the end of the album, he found a photograph he didn’t remember ever seeing before.

He was standing in front of a wooden door with the number 4 written on it, with a smiling woman standing beside him.

At that very moment, he heard the elevator moving on its own.

Then the elevator bell rang outside the apartment.

He cautiously opened the door and found the elevator standing open. Inside was a piece of paper with a message written on it:

“I’m waiting for you on the fourth floor, Hamed.”

To be continued…

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