so a dead mall near me is being torn down in October and while I’m glad the space will hopefully be used for something better, the little freak part of me is sad to lose such an interesting, cursed space. I love dead malls. I find them fascinating. So I shall recount to you my personal experience inside this particular dead mall, which I shall call C Mall.
so a little context - shae and I were there because I got a v-stock (vintage resale shop that mostly specializes in movies, video games, and other nerd swag; I buy a lot of movies from them) gift card for Christmas one year and that was the closest one to where we’d been shopping that day. I had never been to C Mall, the entire time it was open. I didn’t even know it was still open at the time. We drove out and, kids, you’ve never seen a parking lot that big that deserted. Only about a third of it had any cars in it, and that’s because those were the spots closest to the movie theater and Cheesecake Factory that were somehow chugging along inside. Even then, that third was barely a quarter full. I knew right away I was gonna love this place.
the v-stock was on the populated side of the mall, so if you just stayed in there, you probably wouldn’t have ever known it was in a dead mall. It was fairly bustling, there was even a line at the register. But there were signs all around if you paid attention - water stained ceilings, a musty smell despite the clerks’ best efforts, and, creepiest of all, on the lower level where the movies were, a huge window that offered you a look into the darkened food court. The chairs all put up on tables to clean the floor, but never put down again. Most of the food stands shuttered and bare, but some still wide open with signage. The only light the sunlight pouring in from skylights a story up. I have no doubt, at night, that food court was black as pitch.
so I get my movies (spending waaaaay more than my $25 gift card, but that’s life), when shae and I both realize we have to use the bathroom. The v-stock only has employee bathrooms. The closest open ones are in the Macy’s. Clear on the other end of the building. And our bladders were juuuuust full enough to make the trek, rather than find a gas station nearby or something. Honestly, we probably were just at the point where we didn’t even remember there was a world outside this dying symbol of capitalism. There was only Mall. There had always only been Mall.
so we set off, leaving the brightly lit, populated v-stock for parts unknown. And even though it probably only took us about ten minutes to get to the Macy’s, it felt like years. Most of the stores were shuttered. A few were clearly falling apart - broken ceiling tiles, cracked glass, a light dangling by a single frayed wire. Some had been converted to storage for what did remain. What appeared to have been a store for fancy home decor had become a tangled mess of mannequin limbs. Fortunately, no heads that we could see. Just arms and legs, reaching for a god who’d long since abandoned them.
the only other humans we encountered were some older ladies on the lower level. In a last ditch effort to attract customers, any customers, the mall had turned the southern food court into a pickleball court. These ladies were maybe a few feet from the crypt of a food court on the north side. As shae and I watched them, we wondered if they were as uncomfortable with that knowledge as we were.
the only store we saw before the Macy’s that was open was an arcade/party space. “Open” is actually a pretty generous description tbh. The gate wasn’t down, and the arcade machines were on, but it was completely dark aside from those arcade cabinets, and we didn’t see anyone at the counter or at the games. There was a sign advertising party packages. To me it felt like a honey trap, like someone or something was waiting in the dark for some unsuspecting child to walk in.
finally, we reached the Macy’s. Now, malls are typically considered dead once either their profit margins drop below a certain point or their flagship store (usually a large department store like macys or dillards) closes up shop and nothing replaces it. Macys was still chugging along, but clearly in hospice. They were just waiting for the old girl to die peacefully. Sparse shelves, about two employees for the entire store, so quiet you could hear every word of the music playing over the speakers. It was haunting. And, like all department stores, labyrinthine. Felt like Will Navidson trying to find the bathroom, but we eventually did. Two of the four toilets were out of order and the hand dryer only ran for a second or two before shutting off. It was surreal.
I don’t remember walking back to the car, which remember, was on the other side of the mall by the v-stock. I just remember we eventually stepped out into the sun, and were absolutely slammed with traffic noise and human voices. It was like coming out a dark, soundproof room. It was one of the most cursed experiences of my life.
I found out that C Mall is getting demolished from an article that included pictures of the huge, empty space. I could feel the unease, the wrongness of a place that should be full of people and noise being silent and derelict. It was almost sad that this place was going out with such a whimper. I feel this picture says it all:
We did this to it. And it knows that. And it wants to know why it has to die because of us.
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