By: Yulissa Huamani, Peak Associate
Look, there’s nothing better than waking up at the crack of dawn to attend a lecture. I don’t expect anything remotely interesting to happen at 8:00 a.m. as I commute and question my life decisions. Plus, I feel rejuvenated after a micro-nap on the SkyTrain. Slowly regaining consciousness, I have potentially 15 minutes of semi-functional brain activity left before facing my worst enemy — that damn mall.
Do you know the small mall tucked under SFU’s Vancouver Harbour Centre Campus? The creepy place where haunted mall music (muzak) echoes through the deserted hallways and pension-receiving escalators plead for help like trapped souls trying to be released? Where looping muzak slowly increases its volume to combat the mournful sounds of lost souls?
Seriously, has anyone walked through the mall without feeling like they could potentially become a protagonist in the new Final Destination movie? I hold my breakfast like my LIFE depends on it. Sometimes I can feel a ghoulish hand reaching towards MY rice krispie squares — spooky shit. Every sound echoes louder than my intrusive thoughts. Even empty store mannequins scream for help, like the chilling screams you feel in your bones. As if the vibes of this place aren’t spooky enough on their own, I’m often confronted by the frightening muzak that’s probably chosen by the ghost of a middle-aged woman. I hear J.Lo screaming “LET’S GET LOUUUUUUUUD” as if it were a war cry to rally the ghosts of the mall. On the day of an exam, while you frantically flip through your Quizlet, you can enjoy 10 seconds of a dramatic piano ballad by Céline Dion — so emotional that it felt like the Titanic was sinking again. All the while, you’re running like a desperate orangutan through the streets, praying to make it on time to the exam. And no, Jack, you don’t want to be saved to hear or see this.
I genuinely believe the mall is haunted. Are exorcisms on buildings even a thing? Just because the whole vibe feels like the opening of a horror movie where no one makes it past the first scene. And the music sets the tone. “Toxic” by Britney Spears can randomly start blasting through the speakers like the mall suddenly decided it was 2004. And the next song could either be “Conga” by Gloria Estefan or some random Christian pop hit. I either power walk to class or accidentally empower a ghost with some religiosity, which doesn’t seem to work as it still haunts me. Just like that one Canvas grade notification you avoid opening, you know you can run, you can escape, but it lingers patiently. In the shadows of your every thought, every step you take, the mall will find you. With no remorse.
