I like today’s story, because it shows how far back all this Monfeld stuff goes. People have been experiencing phenomena here long before it closed down. I wish we had more archival information.
Poor old them. I hope they can recover.
As always, if you have any questions for the interviewee, please let me know.
The computer shop in Monfeld is long gone. But I am sure it ties into why everything is so off there.
Buying a computer back then was more like purchasing a kitchen table. It was a physical object that inhabited and dominated your home. This was not an unobtrusive tablet chucked it in a drawer. You treated it like a family heirloom. Selecting the right one required thought and effort.
The shop had a large U-shaped desk, with the computers facing out. You walked round in a half circuit, compared prices and processing speeds, and made your choice.
This should have been a fun post school shopping trip. But from the moment we entered, Dad wanted out. I was happy watching the pipes on the screensavers dribble across the darkness. But he shoved us round, answered the salespeople questions in quick, short answers, and knocked on the table in frustration at those before us in the queue.
Dad never explained his panic, and the shop has long since gone. It was a bubble tea shop when Monfeld closed. So after breaking in, this was my first destination.
Some fake plants languished on the floor, next to towers of plastic cups. And although the desk was gone, the rectangular shape of the room brought everything back. I touched the floor, and maybe the tiniest indentations still dotted the carpet.
I was about to leave when I noticed the little sliver of scarlet against the wall in the far corner. The counter of the bubble tea shop would have hidden this area of paintwork. With a pinch of my fingers the square of cardboard came out like a loose tooth, the indentation of a CD inside.
This was something I had not seen in years. A starter internet CD. Ninety minutes of free online time, with random other stuff on the disc.
I had to take it. So ended my trip to Monfeld.
My wheezing old laptop still had a disc drive. I did not even take my coat off before running over to put my newfound treasure in. Something whined deep within the machine, and a boxy start menu popped up.
Connecting to the internet was a dead end via a beige text box containing the words ‘Please Wait.’ Four of the other options in the start menu refused to open. But at the bottom was an icon of a building, and that is where I found the gambling game.
It is a simple one arm bandit style setup. You pull the handle, and let the three dials spin. They might land on logos of the computer company, along with various unrelated objects. An apple. A candle. A rat. It is decent enough with good jangly sound effects, and bright animations.
The devil horns add an extra challenge. If they appear at any point on the three dials, then your score vanishes in an instant. But it is more than that. Every time those devil horns appear, it creates within me a boiling hot wave of fear. Like everything in my life is falling away from me, and will soon be gone forever.
I have tried to stop playing the game. It is just a forgotten old piece of software on a useless old disc. But I know there is a way to beat that devil. I know there is. You just have to keep playing.
Dad was right. Listen to him instead of me. If you ever visit Monfeld, get away from the computer game shop.
