Haunting My Way Home

“When are you going to call her back?” Bree said. She locked the front door tp the movie theater as she asked this question, signifying the official end of the workday and bringing her and Carly to the most tedious part of the day: Closing duties. 

“Apparently Stephen King hated it because it wasn’t his story. He said Kubrick took out any real character arc.” Carly said. She rolled up the sleeves on her collared movie theater uniform. Her curly brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, but some hair remained stuck to her forehead due to the sweating Carly had done throughout their eight hour shift. She was a petite girl with piercing blue eyes giving her the look of a rebel from an old high school movie.

“Hello? I just asked you a question.” Bree said. She walked over to the soda machine and began unplugging everything. Bree was tall and slim. Her black hair was also in a ponytail but she wasn’t sweating the way Carly was. The two girls had been best friends since they were kids and Bree hooked Carly up with a job at the theater when the two girls graduated high school last year. 

“Oh. What was the question?” Carly said. She didn’t make eye contact with Bree when she said it. 

“I’m asking you when you’re planning on calling your mom back.” Bree said. 

“Wouldn’t you rather hear more fun facts about the Shining?” Carly said. 

“No. I want you to talk to your mom. You’ve been watching too many horror movies anyway.” 

“I disagree. And I’m not calling her back or texting her ever again. So we can drop it.” 

“Where do you plan on going tonight?” 

“I don’t know. Your place? I’ll find a motel somewhere off the highway if you don’t want me.” 

“Carly, you know I love you. You’re my best friend. My couch will always be there for you. But you need to go home soon.” 

“I don’t need to do anything.” Carly said. She threw a handful of free popcorn into her mouth. 

“I’ gonna take the garbage out. At the very least you should text her, Carly. One text couldn’t hurt. Just think about it.” Bree threw the garbage bag over her shoulder and walked outside. Carly pouted while she grabbed another handful of popcorn. She took her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her text conversation with her mom. The texts seen on the screen were all from Carly’s mom. No responses from Carly. 

Can you please come home? 

Please just talk to me. 

Just let me know that you’re okay. 

I love you, Carly. Please answer me soon. 

We can fix this. 

Are you never going to talk to me again? 

Please come home. 

Carly placed the phone back into her pocket and ate more popcorn. 

 This place always felt like something out of a ghost story, but something was especially unsettling tonight. This is the thought ruminating through Carly’s mind as she performs the required duties of the employees on the closing shift. She unplugged the popcorn machine, saying goodnight to the haunting yet delicious aroma of the buttery movie theater snack that had become her favorite part of her summer job. The free popcorn she and the other employees were afforded while on shift had gotten her through July and August in this old, drafty building that seemed to be on the verge of collapsing at any moment. Cleaning the theater after working an eight hour shift was monotonous and boring, but at least it meant the end was near. 

The closing employees would soon be going home and Carly would decide where to spend the rest of her night when the time came. She was sweaty and achy. Eight hours on your feet scooping popcorn and ripping tickets is harder work than it seems. This theater is a relic of the past, Carly thinks to herself while wiping the syrup off the bottom of the soda fountain. It’s a surviving artifact from a world that mostly doesn’t exist anymore. In a world of movie theaters consisting of 70mm imax screens, reclining chairs and gourmet food delivered directly to the patron’s seat, this theater felt like it was from a different world. It wasn't a grand multiplex that resembles a five star hotel. It was a small storefront located on the end of a shopping center next to a laundromat. The carpeted floor was grey but had turned black from the wear and tear of old age. The designs printed on the carpet resembled the taco bell logos of the 90s. 

There wasn’t much to it. There was a front door that led directly to the ticket counter within a few steps of entering. Behind the counter you would find the concession stand on the left, and the hallway to the three auditoriums on the right. The two bathrooms were a few feet past the concession stand, and a few feet past those is where you’d find the staircase leading to the projection room. The staircase had a red velvet rope in front of it with an “employees only” sign hanging from it. The theater gave Carly the creeps. It had given her the creeps ever since she first got the job at the start of the summer. The way the floorboards and stairs creaked when you stepped on them. The dust that could be found on top of pretty much everything. The cobwebs on the ceilings. Worst of all, the way the building creaked and clacked, making those noises that only old and beat up buildings like this made. 

All these things gave Carly the creeps, especially during this hour of night when she had the closing shift. The theater was empty except for her and one other employee. All the other employees and movie goers were gone. The theater was empty and silent other than the sounds of the old building. It was dark. It was quiet. It was lonely. And yet, she didn't mind being here. Being here meant she wasn't at home.  

Carly retrieved the mop and mop bucket from the closet and proceeded to her least favorite part of closing time: cleaning the bathroom floors. It was her least favorite part because of the smell of the bathrooms and the manager’s insistence on the floors being shiny enough to eat off, but tonight there was something else keeping her away from the bathroom. 

No matter how hard she tried to convince herself it was just another one of those typical sounds that she had become accustomed to hearing in this old building, she was positive she was hearing footsteps. Footsteps that were moving closer and closer to the bathroom door each time she heard them. They could be the footsteps of Bree, but Carly knew that Bree was upstairs cleaning the projectors. Maybe the footsteps belonged to a customer that stayed in the bathroom after closing time. Carly hoped one of these logical explanations would prove to be true once she worked up the courage to open the bathroom door. She hoped it wasn’t something else. Something or someone that shouldn't be here. 

She placed the mop in the mop bucket, and pushed it alongside her as she walked towards the bathroom door. She stopped in front of it and stared at the chipped, faded paint on the door. She took a moment to wonder if she could just skip mopping for the night. Maybe she’ll just put the mop back in the closet and start counting the money in the register. Maybe nobody would even notice. Before she could make her decision, the sound of the footsteps returned, this time louder than before. 

Carly stood still in her spot in front of the door. She felt sure that the door would swing open any second, bringing her face to face with the mystery person whose footsteps had been making the noise all night. Carly wondered if this would be how she’d die. Maybe the door would swing open and one of those killers from a slasher movie; Freddy or Michael or Jason, would be standing there, ready to take Carly’s life. She felt her heart beat speed up and her chest tighten as the footsteps sounded like they were now directly on the other side of the door. If the door wasn't there, Carly and the possible killer would be face to face, looking each other directly in the eyes the way you do when you look in a mirror. 

The sound of the steps were gone. Silence filled the empty hallway where Carly stood. The silence ended when Carly heard someone say her name. It was a voice on the other side of the door. The voice was faint, but Carly could swear she heard someone saying her name. She tried to convince herself it wasn’t true. Maybe she had just been watching too many horror movies. Then she heard her name again. 

The only thing left was for the door to open. Carly stood still, feeling frozen in the anticipation of who she was about to be face to face with. There was nothing for her to do but wait. She looked down towards the doorknob and watched as the knob slowly turned. The door pushed forward ever so slightly, only opening about half an inch before stopping. Carly could barely breathe. Her fight or flight instincts kicked in. She chose flight. She turned away from the door. Someone was in here who wasn’t supposed to be and Carly no longer had any desire to know who it was. She turned all the way around, ready to run, but instead found herself face to face with a figure standing in front of her. Carly’s scream sounded like something out of a horror movie. 

“What’s wrong?” Bree said. 

“You scared me.” Carly said. “I mean, someone in the bathroom scared me. There’s someone in the bathroom.” 

“Who?” Bree said. 

“I don't know. A customer, maybe. But someone is in there. I saw the doorknob turn.” 

“Well, let’s find out who.” 

“No!” Carly said. But it was too late. Bree brushed past Carly and pulled the door open. The two girls peered inside. They saw nothing but what you’d expect to find in a bathroom. A toilet and sink. The lights were off and there was not a soul to be seen, just an empty room. 

“Oh yeah, really scary.” Bree said. 

“I’m telling you I heard footsteps. I’ve been hearing them all night. Someone said my name. I swear.” Carly said. 

“Stop watching horror movies.” Bree said. 

“Something was there.” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Gotcha. You might be eating too much movie theater candy, Carly. You probably need some sleep. Better yet, you probably need to go home.” 

“Not happening.” Carly said. Bree had already turned her back to Carly and started towards the lobby by the time Carly finished her sentence. Bree knew that Carly didn't have time for that conversation now or ever. 

Carly finished mopping faster than she ever had before. She moved that mop back and forth with the speed of someone who was ready to go home, or at least to get the hell out of here. The bathroom floor might not be ready to eat popcorn off of, but it’ll have to do for tonight. She’ll take the slap on the wrist tomorrow if she had to. For now, she needed to get out of here. She didn't know where she would be going but she knew it would be far away from the sound of those footsteps. 

She pushed the mop bucket out of the bathroom and stepped back into the hallway, the aroma of popcorn once again taking over her senses. She wiped sweat from her forehead and took a deep breath. She had to count the money in the register and then it would all be over. The cold chill that was running down her spine all night would be a thing of the past. The doors to the theater would be locked and this unsettling night would be nothing more than a memory. A cup of tea while lying in the bed of a cheap motel room was calling her name. 

“Bree?” Carly said. She called out to Bree, hoping to ask her if she would be ready to leave soon. Carly didn’t hear an answer. “Bree? Are you almost done?” Carly said, trying again to find a response to break the silence. Carly was waiting patiently, hoping she would hear Bree’s response any second now. Instead, she heard the sound of a scream. Carly jumped and screamed herself. 

“Bree!” She screamed. “Bree, are you okay?” Bree still didn’t respond. Carly heard something else. There were more screams and more sounds but they weren't coming from Bree. They were coming from one of the auditoriums. One of the projectors must have turned on. Another drawback to working in an old theater with out of date equipment. One of those old horror movies had started playing on the screen in auditorium three. Carly heard the sounds of psycho or the exorcist or the shining or whichever one it was, echoing throughout the theater. She knew what she had to do. She wouldn't be able to leave for the night without all of the projectors being shut off. Bree was nowhere to be found. Carly had to go up to the projector room. 

She took out her phone and began texting Bree while on her way up the stairs. One of the projectors turned on. I’m going to shut it off. Where are you?? She wanted to say a quick prayer that Bree would answer soon, but she didn’t have time. She needed to bring this night to an end. She approached the door to the projector room and, almost on cue, she heard the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the door. 

She knew the drill at this point. She stood frozen in her tracks and listened to the sounds coming from the other side of the closed door. The sounds of the footsteps were unmistakingly different from the sound of the film reel on the projector or the sounds of the horrifying music playing on the screen down below. They were real. Coming from a real person. Carly was determined to find out who it was this time. She knew she had to open the door this time. She had to face whatever it was. 

She reached down to grab hold of the doorknob. The sounds of the old film suddenly went silent before her hand touched the knob. Someone must have turned the projector off. “Bree? Was that you?” Carly said. The door swung open in front of her, slamming into the wall behind the door. Carly could feel body tense up as she tried not to shake. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t afraid. But she was. Especially when she saw that the inside of the projector room was dark. It was pitch black. All the lights were off and there seemed to be nobody there. Carly took a deep breath and stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind her. The entire building shook from the impact of the slam. Carly turned as fast as she had entered and grabbed the doorknob to get the hell out of here, but it was locked. 

She started banging on the door. She tried screaming for help, but her fear wouldn’t allow it. Carly shook in fear as she began searching for the lightswitch on the wall. She felt her heart beating faster than she had ever felt before. She knew the lightswitch should be on the wall by the door somewhere, but she couldn’t find it in the utter blackness. She heard a voice say her name. It came from inside the room. She wanted it to be Bree, her savior here to turn the lights on and carry her out of this room. But it wasn’t Bree’s voice. The voice said her name again. “Carlyyyyy”, the voice moaned. Carly wondered if this would be how she died as she turned away from the wall and faced the center of the room. She tried not to cry as she waited for whoever was saying her name to reveal themselves. She couldn’t find her way out. She was trapped. There was nowhere to run. There was nothing left to do but stand there and face it. She walked to the center of the blackness and waited to hear her name again. “Carly!” She heard someone say. This time it was Bree. The door was open and Bree entered the room. The lights came on as the two girls embraced in a hug. 

Carly shut her car door and began walking towards the front door of what she recognized as the house she grew up in. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t spend a little extra time picking out an outfit this morning. She tried to walk in perfect posture. It was an attempt to push away the toxic part of her brain that tried to convince her she didn’t want to be here as she inched her way up the walkway. She tried to pretend her heartbeat wasn’t speeding up as she stood in front of the door preparing to ring the doorbell. She didn’t know how this was going to go. She didn’t know what would be said by her mom or by herself. She didn’t know if they would hug, or if they would fight or cry. She didn’t know those things but she knew she would hear her mom’s footsteps on the other side of the door any second. She knew she was home.