Refracted Neurons

Source:  https://pixabay.com/illustrations/hands-sphere-light-fingers-magic-1835994/ “What kind of magic was that?”  Orville opened his eyes.  Pain dug its claws into his chest, making every breath he drew an agony.  The sky above him was a searing blue, interrupted only by a gust of sand that rolled over him like a fog.  Choking, he tried to sit up, but unseen hands pinned him to the ground.  Unable to do anything else, he made the sign for Light with his right hand.  He was certain he would suffocate, his pulse banging in his ears, his brain screaming for air.  The wind billowed around him, stinging him with sand.  It gusted, it wafted, and then it was still.  Light filtered through the brown air from his hand.  It was only enough to illuminate the space around him, nowhere near enough to inflict damage on the unseen enemy. And still, the hands held him down. The sand swirled in the air like dust motes.  He couldn’t feel it settling, but the visible patches of sky tol

We were driving by the mall the other day when I saw it. There's a hole in the mall where the men can see it all.   "What are they doing now?" I turned around in my seat. "They're, you know, tearing it down," my husband seems unsurprised. "But there's a hole in the side of the building!  I have to go back there."  I couldn't get very close to the construction for obvious reasons, but I did get a couple of shots over the fence of a crane tearing the ever-loving capitalism out of the store. Inside they extended the wall, and now there's a small passageway through the center guarded at either end by construction workers. The empty center of the mall, ready for demolition. Even more shops seem to be empty than last time I was here.  The RAM and Bergmans were empty save employees hauling equipment out of the shops. This used to be Bergman's Since there wasn't much new I could see, I drove around the

Now I know people love stories of dead or dying malls, I mean, I do too.  Empty institutional architecture puts the honey on my peanut butter toast.  But there's a difference between stores fleeing a mall because there are no patrons and stores fleeing a mall because someone’s gonna drop an ice rink on it. And that, my friend, is the story of Northgate Mall. The white space is exactly that; empty. I went there last week to eat belt sushi and made a disquieting discovery: The center of the mall has been walled off.  The food court end of the mall was surprisingly busy for a Friday mid-day, but the other end was pretty dead.  Oddly, there was at least one mall-walker and I could not figure out for the life of me how she was going to walk the mall.  Jump over the barrier and power walk through the vacant center?  Or maybe she was gonna do what I did, and pop in different entrances whack-a-mole style until she found something other than a wall. I wasn't kidding abo