Liminal Mall
Flash Fiction: How far would you go for one last moment?
The burnt-orange lights gave off a shadow that danced down the corridor of the dead shops that enshrouded Elena; her powder-blue booted footsteps echoed as she walked, flashing an inadequate beam from her flashlight, down the dislimned hall. Thinking aloud she said, “Why did I come into this mall, it’s creepy; what if there’s a murderer?” But she swallowed that thought and kept going further, into the mall’s depths. Walking past the empty shells that were once stores—trash cans, empty, on their sides, newspaper littered the walkway, and an old, pale, thirty-two-ounce cup, dried—she remembered how she used to come here when she was a child. Especially at Christmas time, when she’d get a picture on Santa’s lap. It was never a good photo, usually one where a frightened child is screaming and crying on a poor man’s lap, who isn’t getting paid enough to sit there, with a volatile child in hand. It was an embarrassing display for both the parents and the child—one reason why she never wanted to be a parent. And it begged the question, why were kids so afraid of Santa Clause anyway? She thought, “It must be the beard.”
Navigating further into the mall, keeping track of the graffiti; a wilting smiley face, a pentagram, six-six-six—just to be different; anything to be different at that age. Elena came across what she thought used to be the Claire’s, a girly shop she didn’t particularly care for, but she had her ears pierced there when she was eleven. She had come with her mom that day. Her dad was at work, down at the steel mill—he would come home covered from head to toe in black dust. Together, mother and daughter, were doing the normal shopping, at Kohl’s, for clothes for the new school year. She desperately wanted to get clothes from the Hot Topic, but her mom refused saying, “We’re not buying you those ‘weirdo’ clothes.” Elena laughed quietly to herself, picturing her mom saying that. If only her mom could see her now, with powder-blue combat boots, checkered pants, and a cracked, black leather jacket. A tear welled up in her eye, as she whispered, “I miss you, mom.”
Wiping the tear, which rested on the precipice, of her tear duct, she turned right, where the mall forked. Between echoes from her boots, she heard other, lighter footsteps; she quickened her pace. But as she quickened her footsteps, so did the other, lighter ones, keeping rhythm as she ran down the corridor; the beam from the flashlight, bobbing like a lure, when it gets a bite.
“What are you running from?”
Stopping quickly, almost falling over, the light wavering she said, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
“Oh, we’re acting brave now, are we?”
“Answer the question asshole.”
“But you already know who I am, you’ve been thinking about me this whole time.”
“Mom? But mom died ten years ago.”
“No, it goes deeper than that. Keep searching.”
The lighter footsteps trailed off, seeing neither hide nor tail of who or what it was that was talking to her. The beam of the flashlight trembled over abandoned storefronts, stopping on what she believed was the old Hot Topic. Now, her mother wouldn’t buy her clothes from there, but when she was fifteen, her dad—who usually only took her fishing—brought her there to grab some clothes for the new school year. It was a monumental triumph for her. For once, Elena could pick out her own clothing, she felt like an adult now. Though, she was sure her dad got a talking to about it later that night; but she finally got those tripp pants she wanted. “I miss you dad,” she said with a ponding of the eyes.
Two lights, pure and as white as snow appeared at the end of the mall’s spur. She moved towards them, gaining momentum, her boots slapping against the concrete. She saw a man and a woman, holding hands, fading away the closer she got. She tried to speed up to catch the spectres before they disappeared; a wildfire starting in her solar plexus, spiraling outwards until it reached her back, causing a non-visible hunch, psychically felt. She heard light footsteps coming towards her again.
“Have you figured it out yet?” said the strange voice.
“Yes,” Elena said, “One last moment.” A tear was coming down her cheek. The rough, churning waters choked the river, choking the child standing in an abandoned mall.