I don’t usually go to the movies alone, but long story short, there was one I desperately wanted to see, my wife wasn’t interested and none of my friends were free, so on a wet Saturday evening, I found myself beating a lonely path to the movie theater.
I had booked a seat beforehand, thinking that the theater would be packed on a Saturday, but to my pleasant surprise, my screen was entirely empty. I was expecting more people to show up during the trailers, but as they drew to a close, no-one appeared.
I was just about to celebrate my good fortune that I would effectively be having a private screening, when the door to the theater opened, and someone came in.
I couldn’t get a good look at them in the dark, but based on their build and stature, I guessed that it was a kid, no older than 12 or 13. He was wearing sneakers, jeans, some sort of sports jacket and his hair was spiked up in a style seemingly favored by every adolescent when they get their hands on their first tub of hair gel. I couldn’t make out any other facial features in the lack of light.
The moment the boy had entered the theater, my heart had sank. I’d been in movie theaters with teenage boys before, and they almost always behaved disruptively. At least this one hadn’t showed up with a gang of friends.
My heart sank yet further as I realized that the boy was heading towards me. My seat was in the back row on the central aisle. I’d chosen it so that I could make a quick and easy escape if I needed the bathroom. I was quietly hoping that the boy would sit down somewhere else before he reached me, but he only stopped walking when he was standing right next to me. He didn’t say anything, but his presence seemed to radiate impatience as he stood waiting for me to stand up, so that he could sidle past me to one of the inner seats on the back row.
I wanted to tell him to sit somewhere else. The theater was completely empty, why did he want to sit on my row? The only conclusion I could draw was that he was looking to cause trouble and I was his only target. But I didn’t want to be rude unnecessarily, and for all I knew, this kid’s motives might be entirely innocent.
Reluctantly, I got to my feet. The boy squeezed past me without saying a word and sat in the seat right next to mine. I groaned internally. He had the whole row, but he had to choose that seat. Of course he did. I bit back an angry remark and sat down again. My patience was being tested. If this kid tried anything, I hoped I’d be able to keep myself under control.
I did my best to ignore my new neighbor and enjoy the movie. But after about a minute I became aware that the boy had turned his head and was staring at me. I turned to look at him. Although the theater was dark, my eyes had now become accustomed to the gloom, but I still couldn’t make out any features on the boy’s face. It was like it was shrouded in a shadow deeper than the darkness of the theater. And yet I could feel his eyes on me, as if they were boring into my soul.
“Hey,” I whispered to him, “Could you not do that?”
He didn’t say anything, just kept staring at me.
“Are you okay?” I tried, “Why are you staring at me? Is there something you want?”
He still didn’t say anything, but nor did he look away. I wondered what to do. I could go and get an usher, but how would I explain the situation? Strictly speaking, the kid wasn’t doing anything wrong, but his unwavering stare was unnerving.
I shook it off, and tried to focus on the movie, but found it was impossible to concentrate. What did this kid think he was doing? Was he waiting to see if I’d lash out over something as seemingly innocuous as looking me? Well, if that was his intention he might just get his wish.
I finally lost my temper and leaned towards the kid.
“If you don’t stop staring at me,” I hissed, “I’ll go and get an usher and have you thrown out.”
This threat was met with a wall of silence.
“Right,” I said, getting to my feet, “If that’s the way you want it…”
I felt the kid’s eyes on the back of my neck all the way to the exit. Once I was in the lobby, I accosted the nearest usher I could find.
“Excuse me,” I said, “There’s this kid in my screen. He won’t stop staring at me.”
The usher looked at me, confused.
“I’m sorry sir, there must be some mistake. We haven’t sold any other tickets for that showing this evening.”
“Well obviously he snuck in,” I said exasperatedly.
“I don’t think so. I’ve been on duty here the whole time. I haven’t seen anyone except you go in or out of that screen.”
“Then he must have done it stealthily,” I said irritably, “Look, could you just come and tell him to cut it out?”
Thankfully, the usher agreed, and we returned to the theater. Only to find it was completely empty. I stared around. My interaction with the usher couldn’t have taken longer than a minute or two, and in that time the kid had disappeared. The usher and I searched up and down the aisles, but we couldn’t find any sign of him.
“Well, it looks like he’s snuck out again,” the usher said, “If he reappears, let me know.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” I promised, returning to my seat.
Despite everything I managed to forget about the kid and enjoy the movie. He never reappeared and I figured he was just another juvenile prankster looking to rile up unsuspecting members of the public.
The movie finished without any further incidents and I left the theater, sprinted through the rain to my car, and once inside, texted my wife to let her know I was on my way home.
As I drove home, the rain lashed my car windshield, and even with the wipers going at full force, I had to squint through the downpour. I could only just make out the brake lights of the car in front, which was moving much too slowly for my liking. I flicked on my indicator to move into the next lane and glanced up to check my rearview mirror.
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest, and I had to fight to keep the car under control as a jolt of terror shot through me. I heard several horns blare as the car lurched this way and that as I tried to stop it from spinning out on the wet road.
Sitting in the back seat right behind me was the kid from the movie theater. His face remained shrouded in shadow, but as before, the moment I became aware of him, I could feel his eyes on me, staring. I let out a yelp of fright.
“What the fuck?” I screeched.
I wanted to swivel around in my seat and confront him, but a small part of my self-preservation instinct had remained intact through the shock and I kept my eyes on the road. I needed to find somewhere to pull over. The little shit must have snuck out of the movie theater while I was talking to the usher and had somehow broken into my car. Well, I’d teach him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
I tried to keep my eyes off my rearview mirror as much as possible as I searched for a section of road where it would be safe to stop the car, but the whole time I could feel the kid’s eyes on me.
Finally, I found a safe place to pull over. I stopped the car, pulled the hood on my waterproof up to protect myself from the rain, then stepped out of the car. I yanked open the back door on the driver’s side -
Only to find it completely empty.
I stared. There was no way that the kid could have slipped out in the few seconds it had taken me to get out of the car to open the back door - I’d have heard the door opening and closing.
I flicked on my phone’s flashlight, expecting to see the kid crouched in the gap between the front and back seats laughing at me, but there was nothing, and the back door on the passenger’s side remained closed. I shone the flashlight around expecting to see someone disappearing into the nearby trees or hurrying off up the highway, but aside from the cars zipping past on the road, I was alone.
I was only getting colder and wetter standing out in the open. I decided that my imagination was playing tricks on me. I got back in my car, and continued the journey home without any more disruptions.
When I arrived back at my apartment, I’d mostly shaken off the unsettling events at the movie theater and in my car. My wife asked me how the movie was, and I said I’d enjoyed it, without telling her about the kid.
We were standing talking in our living room, when I happened to glance up the long corridor that leads from the living room to our front door. For the second time that evening, my heart leapt into my throat and I let out a gasp of fear.
The lights in the corridor were off, but I could make out the shape of a person standing at the end of it. It was the kid from the movie theater. Although his face was still enveloped by shadows, I had the by now familiar feeling of his eyes fixed upon me.
My wife had reacted instantly at my exclamation.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I jabbed my finger up the corridor.
“There’s someone there,” I hissed, “It’s -”
But in the split second where I’d looked away the kid had gone. My wife looked confusedly up the corridor where my finger was now pointing at an empty patch of wall.
I decided now was as good a time as any to explain to my wife what had happened earlier that evening. She looked genuinely concerned as I told her about how the kid had spent the whole time in the movie theater staring at me, and had then reappeared in the car only to vanish into thin air on both occasions. Once I’d finished the story, we immediately set about searching our apartment for any signs of him or some other intruder.
Our apartment isn’t large, so it didn’t take us long to search every room and come to the conclusion that there was no sign that someone else had ever been in the apartment. I’d locked the door when I came in, and it was still locked now. Even if I’d in fact forgotten to lock the door, we’d have heard someone come in and lock the door behind themselves. Our apartment’s on the third floor of our building and there’s nothing outside except a sheer brick wall. Due to the inclement weather, our windows were closed and bolted. Unless someone was a master climber and was good at picking locks, there was no way they could have gotten in that way.
My wife believed me when I said I’d seen something, but there was no rational explanation for how this kid kept disappearing so quickly. In the end, we chalked it up to being a shadow person - a phenomenon where a patch of shadow is perceived as a living, humanoid figure. They’re often encountered by people experiencing heightened emotion. I could reason away that the kid had really been in the movie theater, had been deliberately trying to freak me out with this behaviour, and had managed to sneak in and out without being spotted by me or the usher. The encounters in the car and our apartment could then be explained away as a shadow person - since I was already unsettled from the encounter in the theater, I’d started seeing things.
Satisfied with this explanation, my wife and I went to bed. Although I was still a little on edge, I managed to fall asleep fairly quickly.
I had a nightmare that I was back in the empty movie theater. I was in my seat in the back row, but something was horribly wrong. My body didn’t feel like it belonged it to me. It was too small. I looked down at my hands, and saw that they were a child’s hands. What the hell was going on?
Then the theater door opened and someone walked in. It was a man. At least, I thought it was a man. He was tall and thin, with long scraggly hair, wearing a long black coat. He seemed to absorb the darkness around him and his face was masked by shadows. He saw me and began walking towards me.
The shadow man was so thin he slid past me without my needing to stand up, and sat down in the seat next to me. As soon as he sat down his head rotated towards me. Even this close, I couldn’t make out his face. It was like a dark veil was plastered over it obscuring any of its details, but I could tell his gaze was fixated on me.
My heart was pounding. I tried to ignore the man, hoping he’d stop staring, but he didn’t, and to my horror, I realize that he was slowly reaching his hands out towards me. I tried to leap back, but he suddenly struck like a viper, wrapping his arms around me with frightening speed. I struggled, but despite his slight frame, the man was surprisingly strong. I could barely move. I could barely breathe. I tried crying out for help, but as I did, I realized something else was happening. The theater was getting darker and it felt like my seat was descending into the floor. I looked around and realized that my body was being enveloped in shadows. They seemed to be emanating from the shadow man, sliding over me like a black bodysuit. At the same time, I saw that we were indeed descending into the floor. It felt like I was drowning in the darkness. I opened my mouth in a last, desperate attempt to call for help, but before I could, I was completely swallowed by the darkness
I was floating in a void. I couldn’t see anything around me except endless blackness. I looked down, but I couldn’t even see my own body anymore. I flailed my limbs about, but I couldn’t feel anything except empty air. I didn’t know what up or down was. I was disoriented and terrified.
Suddenly, I heard a deep, rough voice in my ear.
“RORY FLANAGAN. YOU’RE OURS NOW.”
I jerked awake, breathing hard. I looked over at my wife but she was still fast asleep next to me. The bedroom was dark, but compared to the dark void I’d just been in, it seemed light as day.
My breathing began to calm, but I was still trying to come to terms with what I’d just experienced. The last moment stuck with me in particular - who on earth was Rory Flanagan? That wasn’t my name, or the name of anyone I’d ever known or heard of.
I looked over at the clock. The digital display read 4:06. I tried to get back to sleep, but I was too shaken by the nightmare and I was still wondering about the name I’d heard before I’d woken up.
Realizing that I wouldn’t be getting back to sleep any time soon, I got up and went to the living room. I booted up our computer, and after working my way through the login process, typed the name “Rory Flanagan” into Google.
The first result that came up was a local newspaper report from seven months ago. It said that a 13 year old boy named Rory Flanagan had disappeared. My hands began to tremble as I read the next part. He had last been seen in a movie theater. The same movie theater I’d been watching the film in the night before. He had gone there on his own, without the knowledge or permission of his parents, and without any of his friends. His parents had guessed that he’d snuck out to watch an R-rated film they’d expressly forbidden him from seeing, but after he’d entered the theater, he had never been seen again by another living soul. Until now.
I was sure that I had seen what had happened to Rory Flanagan in my nightmare last night, but I still have no idea what any of it meant. Who was the man? Where had he taken Rory? And why was Rory back now, seven months later? Why was he stalking me?
I have a feeling I’ll be getting answers to these questions very soon, but I may not be able to tell anyone else. I felt eyes on the back of my head as soon as I finished reading the news story. I haven’t been brave enough to turn around, so I’ve focused on typing up this post in the vain hope that someone who can help will read it. But I fear it’s too late now. I just felt a pair of hands clap down on my shoulders, and it’s getting dark again.