Bloomsberg Mall

Ashley always told people how to sneak into the local mall after hours if they asked. Mostly it was teens who wanted a secluded place to do what teens do or to have somewhere to tell scary stories. Though sometimes it was people who’d heard the urban legends around the mall.

Of course she also told them to respect the building, and to respect the stores. The owners were aware of the door with the broken deadbolt that people used, but didn’t see the harm in letting the “younger folks” explore after hours. That wasn’t the only reason though.

On her first day of her old job, her boss, Josh, said this to her:

“Yeah that’s the broken door. You can use it if you want, just don’t break stuff or do anything stupid. And yes, you can tell people about it, under one condition. The owners want you to tell people the story of Jeremy if you tell them about the door.

So Jeremy was the last kid who vandalized this place. Being a teen who wanted to fit in, he told his friends what he was going to do. But the next day, Jeremy didn’t show up for school. So naturally, his friends went to the mall after school. They found the spray paint he was going to use, but not him.”

When she asked him if it was a true story, he said, “No, of course not, the owners just came up with it to discourage people from messing with stuff here. People just have overactive imaginations.”

It had been disappointing to learn the truth behind the urban legend, but Ashley had obeyed the directions anyways. Sure it wasn’t true but she could still perpetuate the myth by telling the story. And as far as she could tell, it worked. No matter how many people she told, the mall remained pristine.

Which brought her today. An out of town group had seen her leaned up against the wall next to the main entrance. They wore shirts and pants that did not go together, but Ashley refrained from commenting on that.

“This place, is it Bloomsberg Mall?” The bald man at the front of the pack asked her.

“Yeah? What about it?” She gave him a look.

“Satisfactory. I wish to use,” he leaned in, “alone.”

“The mall is for everyone dude. At least, while it’s open it is. If you want to use it just sneak in after hours like everyone else.”

“Explain.”

“There’s a door around the back that way,” she pointed to the far side of the building, “that’s never locked. Just don’t break stuff and you’re good.”

“Explain,” the man asked again.

So she related the story of Jeremy to the group. After she finished they all nodded and left. Ashley did not like the vibe they gave off. So that night, she returned to the mall, and used the door to sneak in.

The inside was lit up by the moonlight streaming in from the skylights in the roof. She was just going to take a quick look and then go home, she told herself. She strained her ears for anything after the door closed behind her.

Silence.

She started her patrol. Her footsteps were the only noise she heard as she went up and down the arms of the mall. Everything looked the same. She stopped and peered into the dark stores through their windows and barred entrances.

Empty.

She kept her steps slow. After every store she strained her ears against the silence, waiting a full minute before moving on. She searched the entire mall in this fashion. She found nothing. Her body relaxed. Those guys were probably just pranksters, she told herself.

She moseyed around the mall. Her footsteps echoed throughout the building now that she let them fall heavy. She dragged her hand against the cool wall. A deep breath brought her heart rate down proper.

Once she’d made it back to the central room of the mall she hopped up the unpowered escalator to the upper floor, skipping steps along the way. At the top she leaned against the railing overlooking the empty center court.

She sighed. The group she’d talked to earlier hadn’t been the first group of weirdos she’d seen. The Bloomsberg Mall attracted all sorts. Again she sighed. She walked about the perimeter of the balcony, letting the railing guide her.

She took measured steps along the edge. 9 paces per side of the octagon. It was something she’d measured out a dozen times. 9… 9… 9… 9… 9… 9… 9… 10? She lined herself up at the corner and measured again. 9. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn.

Ridiculous, she thought. The urban legend surrounding this place was about a fictional kid named Jeremy, not some non-euclidian nightmare. She hopped back down the escalator, taking 2 steps at a time.

She stopped in the center and looked up at the moon. It was directly above. It was late, later than she’d intended to be out. Where had the time gone? Probably the slow prowl about the whole mall. She headed back towards the entrance.

At the juncture between the mall’s arm and the center court, she stopped. She turned around. Something wasn’t right. Something small was off about the room. She stared into the center as she walked the perimeter.

There. 

Her vision skipped as a needle on a record would. She tore towards the center and took a knee. The tiles didn’t look right. She reached down and planted her hand on one. The tile was freezing. The floor gave way to the pressure of her hand.

Before her was a perfectly circular hole in the ground, about 5 feet in diameter. Around its edge were symbols Ashley did not recognize drawn in a red liquid. She peered into the hole. Pitch black, bottomless, a passageway.

She ran. Revealing the hole had exposed other things. Ashley didn’t catch much except the long scratches in the floor and walls as she ran. Their source was something unseen and unknowable. She collapsed after she escaped out into the parking lot. Her lungs fought to breathe. She laid like this for 10 minutes.

The deadbolt was fixed the next day. Ashley never told anyone else the story of Jeremy. Bloomberg Mall stayed open though, its patrons unaware. Ashley moved away a month later.