The Mall was a monstrous, almost gruesome debacle. The walls stood like towers, held strong by long, cyndrical columns and laborious white stone, cascading upon a steep set of stairs which descended rather reluctantly upon an over-pruned lawn. The interior was a fiasco all its on, with long winding corridors of grey stone flooring and granite pedestals which one could sit upon or stand on or whatever it was one preferred. The second floor was much like the first, excluding the open foyer which was the entrance to the vast expanse, possibly the work of hundreds of years and thousands of men. Of all these accomplishments, it was the arcade which was most admired. A dark, dingy room seemingly ignored in a small crevice of the museum, which would soon become the very boon of The Mall.

At first, The Mall was somewhat of a tourist trap. Something to gawk at, mouths agape with superfluous amusement, toying with the irrational idea of actually venturing through The Mall. But no one ever actually went in. That is, not for very long.

This is not to say The Mall was haunted or spooky or anything like that, it was actually quite serene. Glass groped three stories high just near the arcade, vast as an ocean, blue as the sky, seemingly always clean.

That was another thing about the mall: it was never dirty. No matter how many tourists, thieves, addicts, hobos, bums, and the like made their way through, The Mall was never filthy. Quite to the contrary, The Mall was considered one of the cleanest places in the world. To admire it's sparkling reflection-inducing grey tile flooring was a spectacle all of its own, and studied by many. This would perhaps be nothing out of the ordinary at many malls, but The Mall was different in one very specific manner: there was no staff.

It is rumored that at some point in time, after the first construction of The Mall, the staff was hundreds, maybe even thousands. Men and woman of all ages bustling to and fro mopping floors, shining windows, dusting high places, painting old paint, selling no good goods, and that kind of stuff. But that was a long time ago. Some thousand years ago actually. And no one has worked here ever since.

It is rumored the first owner was somewhat of a nut job. But that, in many ways, could be due to the job itself. A job as spectacular as this could turn anyone into a nut, even a priest. Yes, that's right, a priest. Said to have been one of the best priests in the country. That is, before the whole nut job thing.

No one can quite remember the name of the priest, but it was agreed upon that he was a good priest, a great priest, the best priest, and it would've been very nice to meet him. So a shrine, or memorial, or something like that, was built just outside the mall, in front of the big blue window, next to the arcade.

When this was built, the people of the town were very proud. No, more than that, they were content. For the first time in over 150 years, The Mall was something more. More than just a place to ogle and explore and enjoy, but a place to be a part of. A place not to exist within or without, but with. A place they could call their own. A place they could finally claim as theirs.

But, rather unfortunately, within a year of this construction, a very retched disease grasped the town and all its inhabitants. No one quite knew what the illness was, nor what it was called. Even the town doctor was confused, and he was a doctor.

So they phoned in some experts who phoned in some historians who phoned in some geologists who phoned in some experts. The cycle seemed a never ending battle of exploited wits. It became sort of a lottery in that way. Who would be lucky enough to treat the impossible, perhaps fatal, illness of this small, imperative town?

At first, doctors were delighted by the idea of curing such a retched disease. This could be their chance to finally start their practice, finally get published, finally do something good, finally be remembered. Finding the cure to this disease was like curing cancer, but bigger. Curing cancer was nice, but curing this would make you famous.

To cure cancer was to be one step of a thousand, and little recognition would surmise. But to cure this...this...this...thing, was to change the world. No one knew much about the illness, even the symptoms were strange. Doctor after doctor confided and deliberated and discussed and even argued, but no one seemed to have much of a solution. Yes, everyone seemed to have an opinion, but no one had a solution.

They never did find a cure for that disease. It's too bad, the people were good people. At least, so I've heard.

The people were the last people to ever live in the city. After that, people went around avoiding the city. Sure, tourists still came far and wide to see The Mall, but no one ever went to the city. Or, rather, in to the city.

It's not like they were scared or anything, the people had died out a good long while before they came, but they didn't want to chance it.

Much like the late inhabitants of the small town, there were many opinions upon the disappearance of the some five thousand men, women, and children. But, much like the inhabitants, none of them much cared. They just figured that's just how things were. The science just wasn't there yet.

That's what the inhabitants thought too.

In fact, after the construction of the memorial, the inhabitants were at peace with the idea of disappearance. No, no one much wanted to run away or anything like that, that would be awful. But, for the first time in many of their lives, especially the children's, disappearance was no longer a foreign abstract phenomenon, but simply a state of being. If that's how it had to be, then it had to be.

So the town stopped calling for doctors, geologists, historians, and experts, even refusing after a time. Said they just wouldn't understand. And so, with more than a little exasperation, the experts gave in. What could they do? It's not like they could force the town to submission, it was their life after all. If they wanted to disappear, so be it.

And so they did.

Not all at once, of course, that would've raised controversy. No, each passed with the passing of time and the resurrection of sunrise. It was not a slow process, but it was not a fast one either. In the scope of history, it was nothing more than a blink of an eye. But to the few inhabitants of the small town, the life was an eternity, a lifetime, if you will.

So each one left, when their time was good and ready, and that was that. Sure, a few had kids and a few more had grandkids, but that was no longer a worry. This is not to say they stopped fooling around or any of that stuff, quite the opposite. Lustfulness, for the first time in the town's small history, was no longer something to hide from. Lust, for once, was openly acknowledged, accepted, and even praised. No longer were women beaten for their lack of virginity, nor men for their unfaithfulness in marriage. Affairs were something to be expected, not discouraged. This is not to say they encouraged such affairs, but accepted them as they were. If this was what fate destined, why should they be the ones to question?

People still got married and all that stuff. There's no reason to stop. If affairs are going to happen, they'll happen. But that doesn't mean people can't be in love. Love and lust are two very different things, the doctor reasoned. Why can't a man be in love with a woman and have sex with another? Likewise, why can't a woman have sex with men before she is married, or even after? This is no sin. This is evolution. It's the way things are supposed to be.

Many of the marriages were conducted in The Mall, seeing that the town couldn't afford a courthouse or a church or any of that stuff. Sure, they had both a church and a courthouse at one time, but that time was long ago, way before the building of the shrine. And since they all knew they were going to disappear, why build anything new? So they held fantastic ceremonies and jubilant parties all through the echoing halls of the season seizing structure.

The town's people were delighted by its vast expanse and bright windows and polished chandeliers and stone statues. In fact, they were so astounded by The Mall, they named it something else. Or wait, maybe they named it The Mall, and it was named something else before that. Yes, that seems to make sense.

Fine artwork was hung all across The Mall, though most of it had already presided in a couple of the badly lit, poorly built rooms. Statues, likewise, were moved from their previous bothersome places to a single room to be admired, wondered, and really, most importantly, stay out of the way. It's not like they didn't enjoy the statues, they found them quite interesting. But the statues, before being moved, took up quite a bit of space, even stretching the whole length of one of the halls, scrupulously studying the lackadaisical individuals with scowls of envy and fear and shame.

The inhabitants weren't quite sure which of the three the scowls possessed, but they were all sure they were scowls. So they moved the statues, with no little effort, to a room near the great big window, though the lighting was poor and little frames of metal scribble were bolted haphazardly upon the bottom third of the wall.

At first discovery, for there were metal plates in almost every room of The Mall, the inhabitants were fascinated. Many tried to decipher the complex scribbles and hieroglyphic looking symbols. But no one could much figure it out. Not even the teacher of the town could figure it out. That is, the teacher of the children, not the adults. For some reason or another, the inhabitants had it in mind that after you reach a certain age, you don't need to learn anymore.

Of course, there were other teachers in the town, but they reached only a small number of adults who paid, or at least, so I've heard, no small amount of money for their education. It is not said what this peculiar facility was called, but was said to be quite cumbersome to the "graduating" student. That's what they called growing up in that town.

In fact, it is rumored these teachers came together to build The Mall some 150 years before the inhabitants had discovered its vast beauty. This is not to say the inhabitants forgot about the building, they always knew it was there. It's just, well, I suppose before the memorial was built, people didn't much care for The Mall. In fact, it is only because of the memorial that The Mall was ever thought of at all. If not for the memorial, The Mall may have never existed.

This is not to say The Mall wouldn't be there, for surely such a structure made of white granite and dark stone and strong oak could never fall under its own weight. This is only to say The Mall would have stayed what it was: a vast, empty expanse grown weary with vines and plants and even trees.

In fact, when the inhabitants first discovered The Mall, it was covered with these kind of things. Only through the scrupulous work of the town's people was The Mall brought to its former glory. But no one much took credit for the feat. There was no need. It had to be done. It's just the way things were.

So The Mall was resurrected, brought back from some former life the inhabitants never could quite guess at. Not that the people much tried. Sure, some of the teachers had their fair share of approximations, but those were just as soon ignored, for none of them could be proven. So the inhabitants lived and married and disappeared.

The Mall stayed.

Of course, many after wondered how The Mall stayed in such pristine condition for the next 300 years. That is, before it became a tourist trap. Some said it was haunted by ghosts. Others whispered of a secret cult which lurked through the building each and every night to see to its pristine condition. But no one much knew. And people have all but stopped guessing. It's just the way things were.

The real attraction, of course, was the Arcade. Sure, the polished stone was nice to look at and the beautiful paintings were an interest for a second. But it was the arcade which was so fascinating. It was in this arcade you could find leather bound bricks and coins and other small toys. It wasn't an arcade in the modern sense, with videos and guns and all that stuff. But it was an arcade, at least for the kids.

Some would draw on the paper, found exclusively within these leather bricks, and others would play with the small toys, swords, guns and that kind of stuff, withered to the point of uselessness other than play. But what the kids really loved, more than anything else, were the giant dolls.

Sure, they weren't dolls in the normal sense. Often made of stone or granite rather than cotton or polyester. And sure, they broke a lot easier than the kids would have liked, but they loved them anyways. Perhaps it was because of their fragility that they so enjoyed the dolls. For the first time in their meager lives, they were trusted with something important, something meaningful, something, special. Something completely and wholly theirs. And if the toys broke, no one much got mad. They were just toys, even the adults knew that.

Of course, there were always adults who scolded their kids for having fun and playing with the toys and pushing the dolls and especially coloring in the bricks. But with each passing year there were less and less of these people, probably due to their general disgust of such atrocities. They were just kids. If they wanted to play, let them.

Soon, there were no adults who abhorred the idea of coloring on such pages. It was the only place they could find such delicate things as paper. Paper was long extinct in their world, and to have such a special treat as a place to color, even if it was over hundreds of other drawings, was a fine thing.

But even this became a bore, and so The Mall became less and less frequented. Within the next hundred years, The Mall was all but abandoned, and the town was bustling with new inhabitants. No one much cared about the disease any more, it had been well over six hundred years! Most assumed it was just a myth, or a hyperbole, or an allegory, or something like that. The people didn't much care. They had work to do!

So The Mall was abandoned, and this time for good. That is, except for me. They said I could never get a job. They said I'd never amount to much of anything. They said I couldn't even handle the trash. They were probably right.

So I was outcasted, as people like me always are, and searched for a place to be. Unfortunately, in a world like ours, there's no where much to be outcasted, so I was sent here. The only place they could think of without fun, joy, or amusement.

At first, it was pretty dull, quite lonely actually. But now, well, something grew on me. I became quieter and kinder and more thoughtful. I learned to interpret the scribbles and even wash off the hundreds of years of coloring. I've even started to read some of those bricks. What are they called? Right, books. It's actually quite interesting.

I've started studying the art and even writing down a couple things when I can. This is actually the most I've ever written in my life! Of course, then the question becomes how do I know all these thing? How do I know their not just myths, or stories, or hyperboles?

Well, just about a year ago, I met another man. Someone much older than I, I'm only about twenty. Seeing that there wasn't much else to do, we talked.

He told me about this club he used to be apart of, or was it a cult? Called it The Government or something like that. At first, I thought he was wacko. But then, well, I guess something must have clicked. For some reason or another, I started to believe the guy, and, eventually, began to trust him.

Of course, then he had to go off and get sick. I never much saw him after that. Said it was his time or whatever. I think I'm starting to get sick too. Must be something in the air.

But I can't leave now. No, I can't do that. There's far too much to do. So I've accepted my sickness, as the man says everyone does, and will wait for what he calls the inevitable. I can't exactly remember what the sickness is called, death or something like that. I just know I got it, so that's that.

Oh, I almost forgot! Before I go off and die or whatever, there's something the old man wanted me to write down. Said it was imperative or whatever...Oh yeah! The name! I remember! I'm supposed to tell you what this place was called, before it was The Mall. Something about how this writing could change the world or something like that.

What was it called? I think it started with an M...