The Night Watchmen

Chris had been a night watchman at the old Brookwood Mall for nearly ten years. The mall had been on the decline for most of that time, with more stores closing than opening, and the once-bustling corridors now echoed with an eerie silence. Chris liked the solitude, though. It gave him time to think, to reflect. But recently, he had begun to feel uneasy during his shifts.

It started with small things—a mannequin in a different position than it was supposed to be, strange noises in the food court after midnight, lights flickering in the deserted department stores. Chris chalked it up to his imagination, or maybe to a few rats scurrying around. But as the weeks went on, the incidents grew more unsettling.

One night, as he made his rounds, Chris noticed a store he'd never seen before. It was tucked away in a dark corner of the mall, between an old bookstore and a shuttered toy shop. The sign above the door read “Curiosities and Oddities.” The windows were covered in dust, and the glass was so grimy he couldn’t see inside.

Curiosity piqued, Chris tried the door, but it was locked. He made a mental note to ask the mall management about it the next day and continued on his patrol. But as he turned to leave, he thought he heard something—a faint whispering, like voices on the wind. He froze, listening intently, but the sound was gone.

That night, Chris couldn’t sleep. His mind kept returning to the strange store. He dreamt of dark corridors and shadowy figures, of voices calling his name from deep within the mall. When he woke, drenched in sweat, he could still hear the echoes of those whispers.

The next night, Chris returned to the Curiosities and Oddities store. This time, the door was slightly ajar. He knew he should report it, but his curiosity got the better of him. He pulled out his flashlight and pushed the door open.

Inside, the store was filled with shelves of old, dusty artifacts—antique dolls with cracked porcelain faces, tarnished silverware, strange trinkets that looked like they belonged in a witch’s collection. At the back of the store, Chris saw a large mirror, its surface dark and cloudy.

As he approached the mirror, Chris felt a chill run down his spine. He shone his flashlight on it, but the light seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. He reached out to touch the surface, and as his fingers brushed against the glass, the mirror rippled like water.

Chris jerked his hand back, heart pounding. He turned to leave, but the door had vanished. Panic set in as he realized he was trapped. The whispers began again, louder this time, and he could see shadows moving in the corners of the room.

Suddenly, the mirror began to glow with an eerie, greenish light. Chris watched in horror as a figure began to emerge from its depths. It was a woman, her face pale and gaunt, her eyes hollow and empty. She reached out to him with long, skeletal fingers, her mouth opening in a silent scream.

Chris backed away, but the room seemed to close in around him. The walls twisted and warped, the shadows growing darker and more menacing. The woman stepped out of the mirror, her movements jerky and unnatural. She whispered his name, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

With a surge of adrenaline, Chris turned and ran. He barreled through the shelves, knocking over trinkets and artifacts, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The whispers followed him, growing louder and more frantic. He could feel the woman’s cold breath on his neck, her fingers brushing against his skin.

He burst through the door and into the mall, the echoes of the whispers fading behind him. He didn’t stop running until he was outside, the cool night air filling his lungs. He looked back at the mall, its dark windows staring back at him like empty eyes.

Chris never returned to Brookwood Mall. He quit his job the next day, leaving the town and its haunted mall behind. But the whispers never left him. Even in his new home, he could hear them at night, calling his name from the shadows, reminding him of the horrors he had seen.

One night, as Chris lay in bed, he felt a cold hand wrap around his ankle. He bolted upright, his heart racing. At the foot of his bed stood the woman from the mirror, her hollow eyes watching him, her mouth twisted into a grotesque smile. She moved closer, her skeletal fingers reaching out to him.

Chris tried to scream, but no sound came out. The room grew colder, and he could feel the life being drained from his body. The last thing he saw was her face, inches from his, her breath freezing his skin.

The next morning, Chris’s body was found lifeless in his bed, his face frozen in a mask of terror. The whispers had finally claimed him, and the woman from the mirror had taken him to the darkness from which there was no escape.

And in the old Brookwood Mall, the Curiosities and Oddities store waited, its door slightly ajar, ready to claim its next victim.