The Saturday Haunt

My sister Dana and I had spent the better part of Saturday trailing our boys through the sprawling Meadowbrook Mall, a gleaming cathedral of consumerism that seemed to swallow sound and light. The twins, Max and Leo, had been little martyrs, dragging their feet and whining about boredom. By the time we left, we were all exhausted, and Dana and I made a pact to return the next day to finish our shopping without the kids.

That evening, as we tucked the boys into bed, a strange unease settled over me. Dana, usually the bubbly one, looked pale and distracted. She confessed that she had a bad feeling about taking the boys to the mall again. I felt it too, a primal dread that made no sense. We decided, without much discussion, that the boys would spend Sunday with our parents.

Sunday dawned bright and hot. Dana drove, her hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than usual. The car’s air conditioner hummed, but I couldn’t shake a chill that clung to my skin. As we pulled into the mall’s vast parking lot, I noticed it was nearly empty. The usual Sunday crowd was absent. A few scattered cars dotted the asphalt, looking like stranded relics. The mall itself seemed to loom, its glass facade reflecting a grey sky that had suddenly darkened.

We pushed through the heavy glass doors, and the air inside hit us like a wall of stale perfume and silence. The usual hum of voices, the clatter of shopping carts, the distant pop music – all absent. The lights were dimmer than they should have been, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch toward us. Dana whispered, ‘This feels wrong.’ I nodded, but we pressed on, determined to find the pair of shoes she wanted.

We wandered through the deserted corridors, our footsteps echoing. The stores we passed were open but empty, mannequins staring with painted eyes. I felt watched. A cold draft brushed my neck, and I spun around, but there was nothing. Dana grabbed my arm. ‘Did you see that?’ she asked, her voice small. ‘See what?’ I said, though my heart was pounding. ‘A little girl, in a yellow dress. She ran past that jewelry store,’ Dana said, pointing to a shop with a glittering window display. I hadn’t seen anyone.

We decided to head to the food court, hoping for a semblance of normalcy. But the food court was darker, and the tables were overturned, as if a great wind had swept through. The smell of stale grease mixed with something metallic, like old blood. A single mall cop stood by the far wall, motionless. We approached him, and Dana asked, ‘Is everything okay? Where is everyone?’ The cop slowly turned his head, and his face was wrong – it was like a mask, his eyes too wide and blank. He pointed to the ceiling and croaked, ‘They’re up there.’

We looked up and saw, through the glass skylights, shapes moving on the roof. Silhouettes shifting, crawling. My blood ran cold. Dana grabbed my hand, and we ran, back the way we came. But the corridor was longer now, twisting and turning in ways it hadn’t before. We passed the same jewelry store twice, and the mannequin in the window now wore a yellow dress, though it had been a red one before.

We burst through a fire exit, into a grey utility corridor. The air was icy, and our breath fogged. A low humming sound filled the space, and up ahead, I saw a faint glowing figure. A woman in a tattered white dress, her hair obscuring her face. She floated toward us, and I felt a strange warmth, a sense of protection. She raised a hand, as if to say ‘stop,’ and then she was gone, and we found a door that led to a stairwell.

We stumbled down the stairs, and at last, we emerged into the parking lot, gasping in the fresh air. The sun had returned, and the mall’s lights blazed behind us. People were streaming in and out, a normal crowd. We stood there, trembling, our shopping bags abandoned somewhere inside.

Later, at home, our parents said they had sensed our distress, and had kept the boys close. The boys told us that they had seen a kind lady in their room that night, who told them to be brave and that she would watch over them. I knew it was the same woman who had protected us, the good ghost who had warned us away from the darkness that lurked in that mall. We never returned to Meadowbrook Mall. And to this day, I can’t shake the feeling that we were saved from something unspeakable that Sunday, saved by a guardian we never knew we had.