Never go to a strip mall after all the stores are closed

Never go to a strip mall after all the stores are closed!!

My husband and I have a strange tradition. A few times a week, we go walk around our local strip mall at night. It’s a way for our kids to burn off some extra energy before bedtime. Just a quick little trip, then right to bed.

Usually, a few stores are still open. But tonight, since it was Sunday, everything was closed. Still, we got the kids out and headed for the brightly-lit walkway.

“Ha, look,” I said, pointing to the OPEN sign at the thrift store.

My husband shrugged. “Maybe they’re still open?”

I peered in at the dark store, the still rows of clothing hanging in the darkness. “I doubt it.”

We continued down the sidewalk, past the seamstress/dry cleaning place. Clothing hung behind the counter, and a huge sewing machine sat in the window, the needle piercing a beige square of cloth.

Ahead of us, one of the fluorescent lights was out. A patch of shadow, next to the butcher shop. We all stared in at the meats under the glass display, neatly packaged for tomorrow’s customers. “Makin’ me hungry,” my husband said, and I laughed.

The next store was one that had been out of business for a long time. There was no sign—just a blank space of faded concrete, with the ghost of the words BARBER. The windows were papered over, but they weren’t always. Several months ago I remember looking in, at the darkened hallway that stretched to the back, at the small piles of leaves and debris that pooled in the corners.

I wondered if the paper meant something was finally moving in.

“Come on, you can run faster than that!”

I looked up. My husband and our two boys had already run far ahead of me. They were almost at the end of the strip mall, at the Wegman’s. I took a final glance at the empty store, then ran after them.

The Wegman’s, which was usually open at this hour, was closed. Seeing the grocery store empty and dark was a little unnerving; usually it was bustling with shoppers, even late at night. We then turned around and continued back towards the other side of the mall, towards our car.

But when we passed the empty store again, I stopped.

There was a rip in the paper.

I stared at the window, my reflection looking back at me. Then I leaned forward. The rip was small, only about an inch wide. But it was big enough to see inside.

I leaned in. But I didn’t see a dark, empty store on the other side.

I saw an eye.

I leapt back and screamed. My husband and the kids came running. I stared at the hole—but there was no one there. Just darkness. “I—I saw someone,” I panted, pointing. “Someone’s in there! Watching us!”

I grabbed the kids’ hands and broke into a run, nearly dragging them. My husband, confused, paused for a second—and then broke into a run after us.

But as we passed the other stores, I saw… things.

The butcher shop. Someone was in there, standing at the meat table. His back was turned to us, but I heard the thump! thump! thump! as he brought the cleaver down on the slab of meat in front of him.

Then the sewing shop. There was someone sitting at the sewing machine; I heard the ch-ch-ch of the needle, threading up and down through the fabric. Except… was it fabric? Because as we passed, I realized the beige cloth was such an odd color. Pinkish beige… like the color of my skin.

And then the thrift store. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye—shapes, shadows, people moving towards the front door. Towards us. I pushed myself to run faster, my feet slapping against the sidewalk. The car was only twenty feet away… fifteen… ten…

I pulled the doors open and forced the kids inside. Then I dove into the driver’s seat. But as I started the car, my heart plummeted like an anchor.

The strip mall was empty.

I didn’t see my husband anywhere.

“David?” I screamed into the darkness.

But there was only silence.

***

I reported everything to the police. They didn’t believe my story, but the more days that went by without him showing up, the more they had to admit he was actually missing. Theories like mugging gone wrong, hit and run, and left for the mistress were thrown around online and in town.

But I know the truth.

So please. I beg you. Never go to a strip mall after all the stores are closed.

Because, as it turns out, the stores aren’t closed at all.