My next story is messed up. This is the oldest horror in urban retail. I don't have a huge amount of information about the person mentioned today. They messaged me saying something terrifying happened on a sightseeing trip round Monfeld. I am happy to contact them directly if you have any questions.
Even if this is a load of nonsense, it's still creepy.
They watched from the windows every time you went shopping. Even if they did not have eyes. The mannequins freaked me out, and fair enough. We are deep in the uncanny valley here.
So when I saw the frozen figures in Monfeld my heart rate quadrupled. I knew the rumours about this place. Their plastic was scratched marks or dents, and any remaining clothes were ragged, like someone had dragged them across the floor.
But I had to look in the department shop. It is one of the biggest in Monfeld. This is where you can find the shrine. Where dozens of candles sit under a wall of bright and varied graffiti. If this place has a tourist attraction, it's here. I’ve no idea who set it up, or if it’s evolved from various guests over time.
The mannequins watched me descend towards the back of the shop. I had my torch on, and their shadows did not help my paranoia. Most of the racks of clothes were gone now, the remaining ones looming skeletons in the dark
At last I got to the shrine. The paints were bright and the designs awesome above the melted pools of wax, but I spent a lot of my time looking over my shoulder. Watching the dolls.
On my return to the entrance my shoulders relaxed. Perhaps this was my mistake. The mannequins moved like you would expect them to move. All those limbs jerking towards me. Those battered faces turned in my direction. Those printless feet clacking upon the ground.
Then the voices began. All high pitched signing, the tune distorted. I made out the odd word, like ‘hope’ and ‘remain.’
One wearing a t-shirt with the full moon reaches for my wrist, and it is then that I fled.
The worst bit was when they waved goodbye. Frozen fingers moved back and forth, and painted smiles refused to move.
I am never going back to Monfeld. Not if your fears actually come to life.