This is not my usual interviewee. They treat Monfeld as a playground, and the building would not last long if everyone acted like this. At the same time, their story is remarkable. I guess this could happen anywhere, and is not technically supernatural. But something about the volume suggests intent.
As always let me know if you have any questions, and I can try and find answers.
Some people say you should be respectful when breaking into abandoned buildings. That you must leave anything you find, and not cause any damage. It is an unwritten code amongst many urban explorers.
I could not care less. For me the fun out of a empty location is trashing them. Where else can you smash windows and throw old televisions from two floors up? Nobody cares anymore, so neither do I.
Take the lift. The doors closed when Monfeld ceased trading. So I thought, why not bring a crowbar? Wedge them open, and clamber about in a space no one has seen for years. Smash the console and take a lift button home for the mantelpiece.
No-one worried about my gym bag of tools on streets outside Monfeld. I used the small window entrance, and they fit through easily enough. Not one person shouted in distress when I wrecked the mirrors with a hammer, and booted a mannequin head down the corridor.
My crowbar fitted into the slit between the metal doors, and they opened with an angry shriek.
So here's where things changed.
The second those doors moved apart, a wave of rotten wet dog hit me. Any actual lift was gone, replaced by a few ragged wires, and a plunge into darkness. A squeaking echoed around the metal tube. I am not stupid. This is Monfeld, so I had brought a head torch. But perhaps it was fool to look down the shaft.
A pool of boiling rats writhed below in constant motion. Some were puppy sized, and they swirled in a vortex around some lost central point.
The beams of my torch made their eyes glint. They could not know what I was, but all I had to do was crash forward, and this would be the end. The crowbar fell from my shaking hand, vanishing into that whirling heap of vermin.
The lift was not up or down. It was gone. Unless of course it lay under that sea of fur and teeth.
I walked in silence back to the window, hoping there had not been anybody inside.
Please be sensible if you visit Monfeld.
