Trapped by Iron Grates in the Darkened Mall

Trapped by Iron Grates in the Darkened Mall

I was walking through the local mall near my parents' house after hours, trying to find my car keys before the security locked the heavy iron grates. The hallways kept stretching out, narrower and darker than usual, and all the shop windows had black velvet curtains pulled shut with thick wax seals on them. I bumped into my old high school biology teacher, Mr. Henderson, but his eyes were completely sunken and shadow-cast, like someone hollowed out. He didn't speak, just pointed down a concrete stairwell that smelled like damp earth and cold stone. When I looked down, the stairs went down forever into total pitch black, but I could hear my ringtone echoing up from the bottom. I felt this creeping dread that if the grates slammed shut behind me, the lights would never come back on and I'd be stuck wandering that basement level. I tried to run back to the glass entrance doors, but my sneakers felt like lead on the tile.