Tall Crash

Did a bit of exploring today around the outside of my local mall. Though I initially headed there to collect B-roll footage for a film project I've just begun, I soon began noticing some interesting sights I hadn't before - and, as an urbex lover, I couldn't resist taking in the haunting scenery.

I've been to various abandoned places over the years; from the dilapidated remains of a closed Circuit City, to the forest-hidden paths of the long forgotten Prehistoric Forest theme park, to a gigantic headless dinosaur sculpture hidden along a deep Florida road. No matter the banality of the site, abandonment is something I will always find fascinating.

I first came across the closed interior of some sort of typical sports bar, clearly visible through the windows lining it's outside deck. I'd liked to have gotten closer and taken more detailed photos, but the area was still pretty lively at that time of night - I'm not exactly one to test my limits in these sorts of situations.

It's always interesting to see a once lively spot such as this in such a strikingly quiet state - it's lights shining brightly on an empty dining room. Perhaps I will take further photos on a future endeavor.

I then passed by the colossal remains of a Sears superstore; one I'd been in various times in the past, in fact. This certainly wasn't the first time I'd inspected it's abandoned state - nor was it the first ex-Sears I'd appreciated - though it was the first time I'd allowed myself to really analyze and admire the area. I couldn't help but revel in the odd beauty of the store's wholly unused shipping station; a large gap in it's roofing reminding me of a soothing skylight, the cloudy murk above accentuating the bleak scene below.

An enticing half-open door called for me from the nearby wall, though, as said before, I decided not to take any risks at such a heavily populated hour. My curiosity is killing me.

A large portion of the building's side sat bathed in darkness, little but a large sign and a wall-off door resting amongst the shadows. It can be seen in this post's banner, in all it's ambiguous allure.

On the opposite side of the building, a handful of outdoor lights remained on - one of which was flickering sporadically, echoing the lamest of horror pictures. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit unsettled by it's presence; I suppose that goes to show my wavering adventurous spirit.

Nearby, I found the shattered remains of a plaque that once displayed the store's founding date - clearly torn from the wall in the least professional manner possible. Though I'd like to imagine an owner or manager may have taken it, chances are another urban explorer got their hands on the neat little item - admittedly, if I had seen it resting anywhere nearby, I'd have certainly added it to my odd collection of forgotten telephones, signs and paraphernalia.

Much more interesting, however, was the quiet and shadowy home of Sears' Auto Center; placed among the brush across the road. With oceanic winds gusting by and an odd chill in the air, I couldn't help but find myself a bit spooked - all the better, in urbex. Much like it's larger brother, a single light flickered on and off along it's front garage; a bright red 'exit' sign visible through it's dim, soot-tinted windows, floating lonesomely in the inky black.

I didn't stick around for long, as not much of interest was really able to be seen through said obscured windows; however, should I make my way there again during the day, I suppose some light may shine through and allow me a better look at what is hidden within.

It's a shame malls have become a breeding ground for the culturally forgotten; though, as has always been, time must keep marching on. Besides - without respecting and learning from the losses of our past, how can we truly appreciate what is offered in our present?

Sears was always too pricey anyways.