Cliff Devlin had rehearsed the moment in his head a hundred times: Liliana’s face lighting up on Christmas morning, her eleven-year-old smile stretching wide, the way she’d throw her arms around him like she used to before the separation.
This year would be their first Christmas at his apartment.
Just the two of them.
He needed it to be perfect.
That’s why he was standing in front of Everglade Mall on a Wednesday afternoon, staring at a set of sliding doors that looked like they hadn’t opened for anyone since 2004.
“Alright,” he mumbled. “In and out. Jewelry. Hot chocolate. Bing bang boom.”
He stepped inside.
It was… empty. Not quiet like a slow day — empty like a place that had forgotten it was supposed to be alive. Wide, echoing walkways stretched ahead, lined with stores frozen in a strange, cheerful limbo. Artificial wreaths. Fake snow. Animatronic reindeer with dead batteries.
And overhead, drifting through old speakers:
“Jiiingle… beell… jiiiingle… be—”
The music warbled, slowed, and restarted as if someone kept hitting rewind on a dying cassette.
Cliff rubbed his arms.
“What the hell…”
Then he saw the people.
A woman behind the counter of a clothing store… folding the same sweater over and over, turning it, smoothing it, turning it again. Her smile was stuck — plastered on like a sticker.
A teenage boy in the game shop… restacking boxes, placing one down, picking the same one up, restacking it. Smile frozen.
A barista… wiping the same table. Circular movement. Over and over. Unbreaking grin.
NPCs.
Like video game background characters waiting for someone to code in their lines.
Cliff swallowed hard.
“Okay, that’s… pretty weird.”
He kept walking.
When he passed the doorway of a cheesy novelty store — CHEEZY KEWELY GIFTS — he expected the same looping worker. Instead, a bell chimed and a warm, human voice called:
“Welcome, friend.”
Cliff turned.
The man behind the counter was older, Middle Eastern, with a neatly trimmed beard and eyes that looked tired in a gentle way. A nametag read HAMIF.
For the first time since entering the mall, Cliff exhaled.
“Looking for something?” Hamif asked.
“Yeah. Uh… jewelry. Something for my daughter. I want it to be special. Real special.”
Hamif nodded knowingly.
“Then not from this shop. But I have… something else.”
He gestured toward the beaded curtain behind him.
“Wait here.”
Cliff waited, glancing around the shop filled with novelty mugs and glitter pens. The contrast was absurd — like a sacred treasure hidden beneath a Hot Topic clearance rack.
Hamif returned holding a small velvet box with both hands, as if carrying a relic.
He opened it.
Inside lay a necklace — bronze and gold intertwined like rivers, meeting in a pendant shaped like a closed eye. It shimmered even in the weak mall lighting.
“This,” Hamif whispered, “comes from an ancient Norse legend. A piece only goddesses dared wear.”
Cliff’s eyebrows rose.
“Goddesses, huh?”
“A father should give his daughter something worthy of her spirit.”
Cliff swallowed.
“How much?”
Hamif smiled.
“For you? Sixty.”
Cliff blinked. “Seriously? This looks like it belongs in a museum.”
“The right owners always find it cheap,” Hamif said softly. “It wants to be with her.”
The wording was odd, but Cliff was sold.
He handed over sixty bucks.
Hamif closed the box gently, placed it in a velvet pouch, then leaned closer.
“You should know—”
A crackle passed over the mall speakers. The music jumped several seconds backward.
Hamif’s face tightened.
“—eh. Nothing. Enjoy your gift, friend. She will wear it well.”
Cliff took the pouch.
“Thanks, man.”
He stepped out.
The bell chimed behind him.
And the mall was no longer the same.
The woman who’d been folding sweaters was standing in the middle of the walkway, staring at him. Her smile gone. Lips parted. Breathing shallow.
The teenager from the game shop stepped out too — his loop broken — eyes wide, almost trembling.
Every NPC in sight turned toward him in perfect unison.
Cliff froze.
“Uh… hi?”
The barista whispered:
“He has it.”
Another voice hissed, “Give it… give it…”
Then all hell broke loose.
People lunged. Hands grabbed at him. Nails scraped. Someone tried to bite the shopping bag right out of his grip.
Cliff bolted.
He sprinted down the corridor, heart slamming against his ribs, the pounding footsteps behind him echoing like a stampede. Store employees — or whatever they’d become — scrambled over railings, shoved each other aside, snarled like feral animals.
“What the HELL kind of mall is this?!”
Cliff skidded around a corner—and slammed straight into someone.
A girl. Maybe sixteen. Flannel shirt. Purple hair. Backpack covered in pins. She screamed and swung her bag at him.
“BACK OFF!”
Cliff raised his hands. “Whoa! I’m not one of them!”
She stared, panting, then looked past him at the mob rounding the corner.
“Oh God. Okay. Yeah. You’re not.”
The NPCs sprinted toward them.
“RUN!” she yelled.
They ran.
“Name’s Cliff!” he shouted as they tore down an escalator.
“Jessa!” she yelled back. “I came here for a video game! Worst day EVER!”
Behind them, an elf dashed out of a seasonal store — full green suit, plastic shoes, curly hat — except his hat was soaked in blood and his smile was unhinged.
“Oh, that’s festive,” Jessa muttered.
Cliff barked a humorless laugh.
“I’m guessing he wants the necklace too?”
“Oh yeah. Totally murder-elf vibes.”
They ducked into the food court, slid over tabletops, dodged chairs. The lights flickered overhead, then blacked out completely.
Silence.
Then the Christmas music stopped dead mid-lyric.
Jessa lifted her phone flashlight.
“Okay, I don’t wanna freak you out,” she whispered, “but those elves? There’s like nineteen of them.”
“Excellent.”
One elf clambered onto a table behind them and screeched, “SAAANTAAAAAA!”
And from the darkness of the atrium, a figure emerged — huge, hulking, red-suited.
Mall Santa.
Except not the jolly type.
He was breathing hard, eyes glowing faintly, beard wet with something dark.
“Ohhhh screw this,” Jessa whispered.
Santa cracked his neck.
“Bring me… the necklace.”
He pointed at Cliff.
Elves swarmed.
Cliff and Jessa tore through the food court, ducking into a sporting goods store. Cliff grabbed a hunting knife. Jessa grabbed a bow and a stack of arrows like she’d been waiting for this her whole life.
“I KNEW my parents were wrong about gaming being useless!” she yelled as she fired her first shot.
An elf shrieked and toppled backward off the mezzanine.
Cliff slashed at another’s hand as it tried to rip open his bag. The elf hissed and recoiled.
“Sorry!” Cliff yelled. “Actually, not sorry — BACK OFF!”
They ran again, darting through the abandoned carousel area. Santa stomped after them, each step shaking the floor.
Jessa shot arrows from a moving carousel horse while Cliff fended off a deranged elf trying to crawl under the ride. The thing grabbed his ankle and Cliff kicked it so hard it flew backward into a cotton-candy stall.
“YOU SEE? VIDEO GAMES TEACH SKILLS!” Jessa yelled.
“I BELIEVE YOU!”
They made it to the movie theater lobby — dark, echoing, popcorn scattered like bones. That was where they saw him.
Hamif.
Held by two elves, tied up with tinsel, beaten but conscious.
“Cliff!” he rasped. “The necklace—”
Santa shoved him back.
“Silence. Its new owner is the girl. The daughter. You know this.”
Cliff froze.
“Wait,” he said. “It’s meant for Liliana?”
Hamif nodded weakly. “Her spirit. Her ancestry. It chose her long ago.”
Santa snarled.
“Then we TAKE it and choose for ourselves.”
“Elves,” he barked, “prepare the fountain.”
Jessa whispered, “Fountain? Why does that sound—”
Cliff answered, horrified, “Because there’s a live wire in the water.”
Santa smiled.
They were dragged to the edge of the wishing fountain, water sparking with electricity. Santa lifted the wire, ready to drop it in.
“Give. Me. The necklace.”
Cliff clutched the bag.
“Never.”
Santa roared.
“THEN YOU BOTH—”
Hamif shouted something in another language. The elves turned in confusion.
And that was enough.
Cliff leapt.
He crashed into Santa, both of them tumbling across the marble floor, sliding near the escalator. The bag flew open. Santa lunged for the necklace.
Cliff tackled him onto the moving escalator. Elves scrambled after them — one slipped, got sucked into the gears, bones crunching like celery.
They fought up to the second floor balcony overlooking the fountain. Santa punched Cliff hard enough to split his lip. Cliff staggered.
Santa grabbed the bag, yanked the necklace halfway out.
But Cliff shoved him with everything he had.
Santa stumbled backward — tripped over a fallen elf — and fell over the railing.
He hit the fountain with a splash.
The live wire fell in with him.
Sparks exploded like fireworks.
Santa convulsed, bellowed, then went still.
And just like that —
Silence.
The lights flickered and hummed back on.
In the stores… every NPC resumed their loops. Folding shirts. Restacking boxes. Wiping clean tables.
Jessa found the breaker panel and shut down the last of the flickering circuits.
“You good?” she asked.
Cliff nodded shakily.
“You?”
“Yeah. I mean… I’m gonna need therapy. But yeah.”
He laughed — a broken, relieved sound.
“Liliana’s lucky,” Jessa said, softly. “You’re fighting entire malls for her.”
They hugged.
And parted ways.
EPILOGUE — CHRISTMAS MORNING
Liliana sat cross-legged on Cliff’s old apartment carpet, tearing open a velvet pouch.
Her breath caught.
“Daddy… it’s BEAUTIFUL!”
She threw her arms around him. Cliff closed his eyes, holding her tight.
A loud bang rattled the door.
Cliff stiffened.
Another bang.
Then pounding.
Dozens of fists.
Liliana looked toward the noise. “Dad…?”
Cliff kissed her forehead, stood up calmly, walked to the front door.
He slid the deadbolt up with a click.
The pounding intensified.
Cliff smiled faintly.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said without turning around. “They can’t come in.”
He rested his hand on the necklace around her neck — the closed eye pendant warm against her skin.
Outside, the pounding grew wild, desperate.
Inside, Cliff sat beside his daughter, arm around her shoulders, as the world clawed to get what was now hers.
