Monfeld has decent traction on social media. You can find plenty of videos of the inside, both pre and post closure. My guest today took a different approach. He posted his wounds. I messaged him to see if he was willing to explain what happened. Please find his account below.
My question is this. Where does the animal go at night?
Monfeld always had limited parking. A few scruffy lines marked out about twenty spaces near the bins, but these were for employers only. This rough bit of ground was a forgotten and desolate space for the average customer.
When the shopping centre closed a load of fencing went up. The meshed security kind with holes in. To detract people like me I support. But with no interruptions, nature returned to that square of tarmac and paving slabs. First the weeds and the flowers pulled themselves through the concrete. Then actual trees sprung up in the broken dirt. Rats followed, but so did the swifts and grey squirrels. In due course the urban sprawl changed to a scaled down forest.
A staff car park must allow easy access to the building. And this means an obvious place to attempt a break in. However, many forum posts warned not to try the ‘forest entrance’. They argued that this was by far the most dangerous way to enter Monfeld.
But the door was a straight line from the road outside, and I do a lot of cardio. Plus the prestige of getting a video going through a forbidden door was too tempting. This was my way inside.
I clambered the fence without issue, and my initial steps across the car park were grand. The grass smelt fresh, the sun was out, and this was the place to be. This was a mini paradise away from my 9-5, the reason I got into urban exploration in the first place. I became a king of a miniature domain.
That was until something trotted over from the shadows.
You might have called it a deer. The antlers were thick zig-zags of bone, and its fur was a mottled blue and grey take on forest camouflage. But long strands of pink flesh emerged from where the eyes should have been, and curved teeth the size of my fingers decimated the weeds growing from a rusted bin.
I should have run. Or snuck around the far corner, and waited for the animal to leave. But those excuses for eyes fogged my logic, and made me choose the worst of all possible options. I remained staring at the faux deer, legs locked in place.
This is aggressive across all spectrums. Something flipped inside its brain, and soon that head was lowered, and a sea of antlers was heading towards me. Frantic gasps wheezed from between that tangle of teeth, and its hooves clacked across the shattered concrete.
I had to dash then. Away from the shopping centre, and back over the fence. The holes were not as welcome to my trainers on the way back, and it took three attempts to reach the top. A ragged antler spiked my jeans with enough force to pierce the skin. But with one manic push I flopped to the other side .
My fall onto the concrete on the other side was not forgiving either. It took almost a minute to get back to my feet. That deer stood and watched me the whole time, those tendrils of mince processing information beyond my understanding.
I have never made it inside. As you will have seen from the photos, that scar forms a cross shape on my lower right thigh. I cannot offer you an explanation. Only advice. If you are breaking into Monfeld, do not use the forest.
