A conversation with a Phantom

The mall closes its doors at nine o' clock on the dot each night. On week nights I'm in bed by then, but on Friday and Saturday nights I'm still roaming the corridors. This was one such night, it was seven at night, the sun had set and a full moon could be seen against the backdrop of a dark, cloudless night sky. The mall was as quiet as the grave and a strange stillness was starting to settle over the building.

I'd spent that day roaming around the mall as normal. I was saving my allowance for the Christmas Sales, so I was traveling light. Two weeks had passed and I'd been forcefully taken in the movie’s  bathroom. And I was still pretty torn up about that. In those two weeks I'd become withdrawn and sullen. Thoughts of suicide came and went throughout the day. Nobody seemed to notice the sudden change that had come over me. 

That evening I found myself sitting on a wooden bench in a quiet section of the mall. One that was tucked away from the main flow of traffic. A large fountain with a few potted plants could be seen in front of me. The area was something of a square, with the fountain and the plotted plants forming the center of the square. And the wooden bench tucked to the side. Here on this wooden bench I sat and tried to collect my thoughts.

I was quite alone, till out of the corner of my eye I saw somebody, a man that appeared to be in his mid to late forties came strolling up to the wooden bench. He was wearing a blue and white tracksuit and his platinum blonde hair had been mowed into a buzz cut and he seemed to be deep in thought. At first I thought he was going to keep on walking. Instead he stopped and peered at me.

“Hey the mall is about to close, you know that right?” He said as he stuck his hands into his pockets. 

“I know.” I said looking up. I then noticed eyes, they were icy blue. But they seemed clouded with sadness. His brow too seemed almost drooping under the weight of an unspoken sadness that he seemed to wear on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Just letting you know.” He said as he peered toward me. He then looked up. It was like he was looking at a certain place. He seemed deep in thought, “You know strange things happen around here at night. There is a silly rumor going around that this mall is haunted.” He said, forcing a chuckle.

At this point my curiosity took control of me, so I left my seat at the bench. And walked to where he was standing, I then noticed, and this must have been the first time I noticed it, because I could have sworn I passed that spot at least a billion times since I've started roaming this mall that zip tied to one of the rails was a plastic flower. It was like a maker of some kind. 

“They say that back in the nineties. Some guy jumped from that spot right there.” He said pointing toward the plastic flower. “He was going through a nasty divorce and he was tired of working at his dead end job. He was a store manager for McDade's Family Market. Anyway one day he clocked out early and started drinking at Garfield's Restaurant and Pub. Finally they kicked him out, but he was two sheets to the wind. So what happen, poor guy just climbed over the railing right there and jumped and splattered like a egg right there by that fountain.” He said.

I blinked and blinked again.

“Okay.” I said, peering at the strange man. At this point I was starting to get a little worried.

“Kid, I don't know what you're dealing with. But let me tell you this suicide is not the answer.” He said turning around. He then looked me dead in the eye. “That guy left behind two children. And instead of saving them from trouble he caused them a lot of grief and a lot of pain.” He added.

“Okay..” I said looking away. “Listen guy I don't need some total stranger coming up to me and talking a load of bullshit. Listen, I know about the legend of the 'Phantom of the Mall' and half a dozen other insane bullshit urban legends kids tell to scare out of somebody. It's all smoke and mirrors.” I said, sighing as I folded my arms across my chest.

The guy turned around and looked dead at me. He peered at me for several long seconds. Then he slowly started to fade away. And I mean that, he started to fade away. First his feet started to fade, then his body started to fade and then his arms till it was just his head floating a few feet from me. 

“Alright kid. Just remember what I told you. I'll be keeping my eye on you. Be safe and don't cause trouble for anybody.” And with that the head vanished too.

For a long time I  just stood there rooted to that square piece of tile I was standing on. Then I slowly started to walk away. Then a prerecorded message came over the mall's PA system.

“Attention all shoppers, attention all shoppers. The Northpark Mall is closing now, I repeat Northpark Mall is closing now. Please join us tomorrow for another wonderful day of shopping.” The message repeated itself over and over at five minute intervals. I felt scared to say the least. I dreaded the walk home, that long walk home. In the dark. 

Then I happened upon him. Officer Sean O' Keen the token Irish mall cop that spoke with a broken Irish accent that never failed to remind me of the Roman Catholic priest at my grandmother's church. Who spoke with the same, broken Irish accent. 

“Tabby!” He said as he peered at me. “Don't you know the mall is closing, girl. I know you like to hang around at all hours of the day, but tomorrow is the sabbath. You need to be at home in bed. And don't you think your mom and dad are worried about you. I'm sure there will be a warm bottom in your future if you don't hurry up and head to the house.” 

Like most mall cops Officer Sean O' Keen was dressed in a dark blue, form fitting police tunic, long woolen trousers that were also dark blue in color. Highly polished black leather dress shoes, and a black, leather belt across the middle. He also knew I hated being called Tabby but did so anyway. Anyway I was not amused and I was still a little freaked out.

“Officer Sean!” I said pointing over my shoulder.

“Yes, that is my name, don't overuse it.” He said, taking a deep breath.

“There is a man standing over there! And he vanished into thin air! Like a ghost!” I stuttered as I pointed over my shoulder at the fountain and the bench. “I swear to God, Mary and all the angels.” Knowing like all Irish and Mall cops, Officer Sea O' Keen was devoted Catholic, attending Mass daily and fasting on the shy. I knew that would get him thinking.

“Tabby girl.” He said, looking down at me. “It's almost Halloween time.” He said, looking me square in the eyes. “All the ghouls and ghosts will be coming out at this time of the year. Heck this place is filled with shops selling Halloween decorations, costumes and all manner of things. There is even a huge building across the road where the old J.H Holmes Building Supplies used to sit that bills itself as an 'Halloween Superstore'.” He said.

“Right..” I said, letting my voice tremble a little. “But I swear to you, I swear on my mothers good name, that this man vanished right before my very eyes.” I said, taking a deep breath. 

“Then you don't think much of your mothers good name.” He responded as he peered toward me. “Because you're talking pure nonsense. Listen Tabby girl, go home and get you some sleep child. You're pale as a sheet and you look like you've seen a ghost. Go home, and rest now, and attend Mass tomorrow like a good little girl and make your confession.” He said, patting me roughly on the shoulder.

“Thanks I guess.” And with that I started walking home.

What happened? The next morning I attended Mass because  mom wanted me to attend Mass with her and dad. Now, Mom's folks are staunch Irish Catholic. Hell mom says she can trace her roots right back to “The Emerald Isle” and dad. We can't really place him. My guess is he's English or Scottish. I guess with a name like “Stonewall” it has to be English am I right? I mean it sounds like an English name? Anyway, back to the story.

I attended mass with my dad, mom, and her dad and mom at St. Patrick Catholic Church in rural Gluckstadt some twenty minutes away. Gluckstadt was not much more than a simple, brick Roman Catholic Church, a few scattered buildings, a Shop-N-Go, A general feed and seed store, and a gas station, truck stop combo that served the best southern style fried chicken for miles around. Mom swore that their Pecan Pie would have brought Jesus down from the cross and grandpaw promised that if Paul had drunk some of the coffee before nodding off asleep in the courtyard of that temple or garrison or whatever kind of building it was they were holding Jesus hostage in before his time on the cross. Then he'll still be awake to this very day. I never had the coffee, so I'm not sure of that claim. But I have had the Pecan Pie and it's alright, not the best in the world, I made the best, but you get a free slice when you buy a Sunday Plate Lunch.

Anyway I don't really remember what I was going to say, I mean I did want to ask a question, but when I'd finally worked up the nerve to ask it, it came out a jumbled pile of words. Words that seemed to just spew out of my mouth. I kind of vomited those words up.

“Father?” I said turning to the aged priest who had just finished saying grace. “I have a question to ask you if you have the time.” 

“I always have time to answer questions.” Father said as he peered toward. “Now, what is bothering you Tabitha my lass.” He said as he piled his plate high with fried chicken and mash potatoes that he soon covered it in a thick, brown sauce. 

“Do you know anything about how to put a spirit's soul at rest?” I said as I looked down at my own plate. Father paused and peered toward me and in a solemn voice said to me.

“Tabitha girl. You don't want to go around messing with spirits. Not at this time of the year.” He said as he reached over and took a sip from his tea glass.

“This time of the year, all kinds of people come out from the stone's they have been hiding under. This Halloween time is a wicked time, and the holiday itself is nothing more than a celebration of witchcraft and devil making. Some see no harm in dressing up. Aye but I've seen the devil hand in it. All these films coming out this time of the year, showing all manner of witchcraft and the bookstores selling tomes of ghost stories. Aye it makes my old soul weep it does. To see such tomfoolery afoot.” 

I blinked and blinked again and most of the table went silent. Father it seemed was working up a good head of steam and once he got rolling it was hard to stop him, when Father got like this, he reminded me of a snowball that had been rolled down a very steep hill. As it rolled down the hill it gathered snow around it and grew bigger and bigger till it either hit something or lost steam and played itself out. And this being the south, nobody dared tried to change the subject, not while Father ranted and raved.

“Some holiday this is, the devil's birthday! A celebration of murder, witchcraft, zombies, vampires, and monsters. Harmless, they say, nothing but harmless fun. Oh but what damage they are doing to their souls! Oh what horrible twisted nightmares are they giving the good children who knee beside their beds at night and say their prayers with earnest hearts! Oh, should they be forced to see a parade of ghouls and beasts that come straight from the pages of Faust run up and down their streets and ring their doors and demand candy and treats or else they threaten the good master of the house with some mischief! A sham of a holiday, a mockery of the name.” 

All blinked and blinked again.

“What a twisted, morbid holiday this 'Halloween' is.” Father said, sighing. As he reached over and drained his tea glass. A blonde hair waitress quickly refilled the glass and went about her way. 

“Now Tabitha my girl, what was your question?” He said returning to the subject at hand.

It was at that moment I decided to hold off asking my question about spirits and ghosts. Father seemed in one of his rare moods today, a mood when anything smelling of the supernatural would turn him into a raging madman. And after all there was always google. That's right, I'll just google my question and search the vastness of the internet for an answer.

And that is how another chapter in “The Mallrat Chronicles” Comes to a close. This is the second story of eight I plan on sharing with you guys. So I'm hoping you're enjoying them so far. Drop a comment or something. I enjoy reading them. - Tabitha Stonewall.