Shadows At Starlight

by Alice J Black

  “I’m sure it is.” I turned. “But right now, in the middle of an investigation, isn’t the time to talk about it. Let’s hold that one on the backburner until we’re done with the Starlight, and then we can talk.” I led the way out of the ghouls’ room and paused outside the goblins’ door. I knew those names had been thought up by Roman. “You think we should go in?”

  “Jeez, Peyton. Who do you think’s going to be in there? Certainly not Roman. He’s still at his computer.”

  I took a quick glance over my shoulder just to be sure, and satisfied that I could see his face lit by the garish monitor glow, I pushed the door open. As soon as I stepped over the threshold, I was assaulted by the stink of stale piss.

  “Oh, well that’s lovely,” Olivia grumbled.

  “Men are gross.” My nose wrinkled.

  This room was smaller than the last, with three urinals stained yellow and without any sign of a urinal cake having been set down recently. There was one stall, its door looking more than worse for wear, and two sinks. No mirror. I was glad I wasn’t a guy.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more. As we moved back into the passage, door closing behind us and shutting off the stale stink, I exhaled loudly.

  “That had to be the worst part of the night, right?” I glanced at my best friend.

  “You would think so.”

  “What time are we on?”

  Olivia shrugged her sleeve to check her watch. The silver strap glinted in the dim light. “Half past.”

  “Okay. Let’s check out the rest of the building, then lock the doors and settle down for the night.”

  Olivia shuddered, but I chose not to comment as I moved past, heading left.

  We crossed the foyer again, doors still flung open and the food stand still vacant. The whole place was deserted. I wondered what it was like in full swing.

  On the other side of the foyer was an open square archway that led into a hallway. As we passed under it, I saw more movie posters lining the walls, and as my head turned to the right, I saw a set of double doors. They were closed. That had to be our film screen.

  We strode to the doors, and I grabbed one of the handles, feeling it wobble under my grip. This place needed a serious overhaul. I opened the door and froze for a second. I faced complete darkness. A moment of panic almost blindsided me, and I took a deep breath as Olivia moved close, hand grasping my shoulder.

  My vision finally adjusted, and I saw a long walkway ahead. After pushing the door open, I stepped through and waited until I was sure Olivia was behind me. Then I proceeded along the walkway. The wall on my right sloped groundward with every step. I rounded the corner and stared up at rows upon rows of seats. They were arranged in a curve, and each row was a little higher than the last.

  The screen was set on a stage since the theatre’s original features had been kept. A huge pair of red curtains, which I knew were velvet, hung on either side. It worked well to add dramatic flair to the scene.

  “Wow.”

  “I know, right. This is something else.” I shook my head.

  Outside, the Starlight was a mess, but in here, you could feel the magic about to happen. Roman really needed to rethink the cinema’s setup.

  “This isn’t just a cinema. This is the theatre.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” I gawped. “I can’t wait to watch the film now.”

  Olivia groaned. “I thought you might’ve forgotten about that.”

  “No chance. If the film is haunting the cinema, then we need to find out why. Besides, we have our pick of seats. We can sit right in the middle.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to investigate the whole building?” Olivia reminded me as I took a step towards the stairs.

  “All that’s going to be up there is the gallery and a small projection room. I think it’s best to focus on the screen because it sounds like that’s where the issues are originating from. Come on.” I began my trek up the stairs. My thighs burned, but I didn’t stop until I reached two-thirds of the way up. Then I threaded along the narrow footwell between the chairs.

  “Peyton,” Olivia started, voice wavering, “maybe we should sit somewhere a little closer to the exit.”

  “No, we need the full effect of the film. It’ll be fine.”

  “So you keep saying.” She sighed but continued to follow, shuffling along the seats like there were people sitting there and she had to avoid their knees.

  “I think this’ll do just fine.” I stopped halfway and plonked down on the chair, swinging the bag onto the seat beside me.

  Olivia sat on my left and perched close to the edge, hands wedged between her knees. She was nervous. Hell, so was I! But I wasn’t about to let Olivia see any sign of weakness from me right now. She needed strength. If what Roman said was true, then just being here and watching this film could spell bad news. But what kind of ghost hunters would we be if we turned down a case for being scared?

  “You forgot about the doors,” Olivia said.

  “No.” I shook my head and stood up. “I was just getting the seats before the place filled up.

  “Ha-ha.”

  “You wait here, and I’ll lock the doors and see if I can scrounge—”

  “Hang on.” She held up a hand. “You expect me to stay here while you go frolicking in the foyer? I don’t think so.”

  “Olive, chill out. It’s just a cinema.”

  “This place gives me the creeps.”

  “Fine. Here, you go lock the doors and see if there’s any food left behind the stand. I’m famished.”

  I handed her the bunch of keys and she snatched them before I could change my mind, then took off toward the stairs. I watched her go, shaking my head as she trotted down the steps with more enthusiasm than she’d had all day.

  I used the meagre cinema light to get a few things out of my bag. I picked up my camera and digital voice recorder first. I didn’t plan to record the whole thing, but a recording here and there would highlight anything unusual. Same with the camera. Next, I put out the K2 metre, which I could use to identify electro-magnetic fields, set it close by, and then picked out the spirit box.

  After switching the machine on, the cinema screen erupted in a noise of static. I winced but allowed it to continue as I spoke.

  “Hello, this is Peyton. Can anybody hear me? Is anybody here?”

  None of my questions were answered. So far, it seemed there weren’t any spirits lingering in between the rows of seats like I’d previously imagined.

  As I set the equipment down beside me, I leaned back in the chair. The seating was much more comfortable than normal cinemas. There was plenty of cushion for my behind, and though the leg room wasn’t anything special, at least the seats in front were the right height for me to rest my legs.

  I cocked my ankles onto the fabric and crossed my arms behind my head. Perfect. Now all I had to hope was that Olivia came back with gifts, because I couldn’t bear to sit through an entire film without something to snack on.

  The last time I’d been at the cinema, I was still drinking heavily. I’d gone with John, thinking it a good idea to watch a scary film and get pissed at the same time. The night ended with us both being thrown out of the pictures and barred for six months. We went back to my place, and the morning after, well, it began with Olivia kicking him out of my bed.

  If that happened now, I would be mortified but back then, I couldn’t have cared if I was barred for life. That was the thing with alcohol, it muted everything and made it so the only thing that mattered, the only thing I cared about was my next drink.

  I shook my head as I forced the image away. I didn’t want to recall what I looked like that day or that he pushed my head into his lap on the back row. I shuddered. Alcohol made humans uninhibited, which wasn’t a good thing, in my experience.

  Finally, I saw Olivia’s head bobbing over the sloped stair rail. Then she rounded it and climbed slowly, hands full.
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br />   I rubbed my hands together, dropped my feet, and straightened just in time to grab the huge bucket of popcorn she thrusted at me. In her left hand she carried a cardboard carton with two huge drinks, and two hot dogs smothered in red sauce rested on top of them. I grinned and licked my lips.

  “You did well,” I complimented as I set the popcorn beside the devices I would use throughout the showing, then grabbed one of the cardboard boxes holding the hot dogs.

  “Yeah, well, I asked Roman first. I didn’t just take it. He said it was all going to go to waste anyway and that I could help myself.”

  I took a bite of the hot dog and moaned. “You know,” I said, around the bread bun, “I know exactly what’s in these, but it doesn’t stop me from loving them.”

  Olivia set the drinks down and then took a bite of her own. “Me neither.”

  Just then, the screen roared to life and the lights dimmed. Olivia froze, eyes meeting mine. Even in the darkness I saw the worry glinting there, the furrow of her brow, the way she held her shoulders.

  I leaned in. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

  She nodded, and I realised how scared she was. This whole thing, film and all, was enough to freak her out. None of my jibes would’ve helped the matter, either.

  I made a resolution to take it easier on her. Olivia was in this because of me, and I might’ve been the one who could hear the voices of the dead but she was going through the same things as me.

  The screen started off black, colour slowly focusing amid the grains of the film. Then I realised the shot was of a house. It stood tall, at least three stories, and wide. An imitation compared to some stately homes in the UK but an impressive house, nonetheless. A double door was set into an arched doorway, recessed so that the stones above took precedence. The windows were single-paned, and the wood was rotting as paint flaked off.

  In the ground floor windows, I saw evidence of window boxes, but they’d been barren for a long time. The house had no colour, drenched in hues of brown and grey and black. It stood cold and alone, and I felt like there was something very wrong with this place.

  Someone stepped into view. It was a woman, hair blonde and cropped just below her chin. It swayed with every slight movement until she finally came to a stop, and her hair paused, too.

  “Hello,” she spoke, voice muffled.

  This was just a home movie with bad sound.

  “I’m Karen Rogers. My husband, Rick, is taking the footage.”

  The camera spun, and for a dizzying second, I was disoriented. And then a stern-faced man faced the camera, lips pressed together as if he was afraid to speak or he was being made to do this. The camera spun back a few seconds later, auto-focusing on Karen.

  “If you don’t know this house now, you’ll soon come to wish you hadn’t. We’re here to investigate the haunting of Hilltop House. The house has stood since 1823. A local family known as the Donaldsons occupied it until generations dwindled and there was nobody left to take it over. In those years, the house came into disrepute. With nobody to care for it, it became a shelter used by local vagrants. For many years, nobody would near the place for fear of what they might find within its walls. Around two years ago, everybody left. The people who’d been squatting there most of their adult lives took off for new pastures. Some say that something made them go. Others say they had to leave or die. Today we’re here to debunk the myths of Hilltop House and find out what truly went on inside.”

  Karen paused for dramatic effect as Rick zoomed in on the house.

  “Do you get the feeling that Rick doesn’t want to be there?” I whispered.

  “Funny how you sympathise with him, and yet here I am at the Starlight Cinema, exactly where I don’t want to be.”

  “Follow us on our journey,” Karen went on, “through Hilltop House, where we’ll see what state it’s in now. Be prepared. This footage is real and unedited. What we see, you see.”

  Another dramatic pause.

  Then Karen turned and walked towards the house. The camera followed her, and I got a sense of Rick’s footsteps as the camera shook.

  Beside me, Olivia gripped the armrest.

  Karen stepped onto the front steps and grabbed the door handle, pausing for a few seconds to let her husband catch up and make sure there was a good shot of her from behind, before opening the door. It had conveniently been left unlocked.

  As Rick moved in behind his wife, I saw the inside of Hilltop House, and it was in a sad state of disrepair. In the centre was a huge staircase that split into two landings at the top. The banisters, which were once ornately gilded, had long since become tarnished and chipped, covered in a thick layer of dust.

  On the ground floor, the foyer split, much like the upper floor. The left looked to be the dining room. A broken table lay on the floor, in splinters. Some had been thrown into the fireplace and blackened a long time ago.

  As the camera panned across the right side of the house I saw a room that was as broken as its counterpart. An old sofa had been dismantled, the cushions, which were crusted with the dirt of an age, had been strewn about and ripped, the pattern barely visible beneath. The sofa’s frame had also been pulled apart, the wood beneath the fabric snapped and splintered. Beyond that, I saw a fireplace which had lain cold and empty for a long time and windows fogged with a layer of grime. Wallpaper with heavy pattern, peeled from the walls, dripping in a slow momentous roll, and the floorboards looked like they were rotting.

  “As you can see,” Karen started, “Hilltop House hasn’t been touched for a long time. She turned around to address the camera, with open arms in the dim light permitted by the dirty windows.

  Rick zoomed in on his wife, gradually bringing her into focus amidst the squalor.

  “We’ll take a look around and show you the state of disrepair it’s really in. You can see from this initial view that the house has been abandoned.”

  I agreed. It had been a long time since anyone had ventured into that place. Even the floor had a thin layer of dust, and Karen’s shoes disturbed the film, leaving prints in the dirt. The only sounds were that of the pair as they made their way around the abandoned manor, taking the audience from room to room. And everything was the same in each. Dust mounting the furniture, broken bottles scattered on the floor, occasionally crunching underfoot, and a sense of abandonment.

  All in all, it was a place I wouldn’t want to visit, but I was willing to warrant that Karen and Rick had thought their film would get them a pretty penny.

  After walking a full circle around the ground floor, Karen moved out of the kitchen, passing the graffiti-covered walls of the dining room. I couldn’t help but shake my head. It was a beautiful building that had been left to ruin and spoiled by those who had passed its doors.

  I leaned over and whispered to Olivia, “Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Her glasses reflected the meagre light of the film screen.

  “Not now. I mean, think of it as it would have been.”

  Olivia shook her head. “All I can see is a nest of corruption.”

  “Well, aren’t you cheerful.”

  Karen was in the foyer again, bringing Rick and the audience full circle. She turned to face the camera, lips pressed together, before she looked at the stairs. The ground floor tour had been completed, and it was time to see the rest of the house. It was time to go upstairs.

  The whole process was repeated as she climbed the stairs, Rick steadying the camera, from the foyer and watching her ascent. Her hand grasped the railing for support, and I watched as a trail of dust was removed.

  Karen reached the top landing, where she paused, looking left and right before deciding to turn left. Before she disappeared, Rick hurried up the steps, camera jostling, throwing the picture left to right. As it swung, something jerked into view on the ground floor. It was a fleeting portrayal, but I saw it anyway. A thick shadow. A shadow in a place where there couldn’t have been a shadow.
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  “Did you see that?” I hissed.

  “What?”

  “The shadow?”

  “All I see is him running with the camera. I feel sick.”

  I rolled my eyes. We were here to investigate the film, so detail was important.

  Rick finally reached the landing and brought the camera back up to his shoulder, the sound of his harsh breath loud against the microphone. He finally regained his composure, and by that point, Karen was already poised beside the first door.

  “I’m about to enter the first room.” She opened the door, flinging it inwards, with a creak that would befit any horror movie.

  Olivia shuddered.

  Karen disappeared through the darkened doorway, and as Rick caught up, the audience was given the same view. A broken bed frame lay scattered on the floor. A pair of old curtains still hung by threads on the window covered in a film of mildew. Karen wrinkled her nose and stepped closer to the camera, eager to exit.

  The process went on. Karen opening room doors. Rick following obediently. I saw bedroom upon bedroom and bathrooms to match. By the end of the tour, I was left wondering just how she knew her way back down. The place was huge. I’d counted at least six bedrooms and two bathrooms, plus the huge space downstairs.

  The next shot started with Karen descending the stairs. Rick was at the bottom, watching her. They must’ve turned the camera off for a moment to line up the shot. It may not have been edited—or so she said—but it was certainly controlled.

  “So you can see,” she started again, eyes fixed on the camera as she stepped towards the ground floor, “Hilltop House has been neglected. It’s filled with the darkness of its previous owners and those who used the house as a bedsit. I wish you could be here to see it, to feel the cloying atmosphere. But since you can’t, we’re going to make sure you go on the journey with us. Rick and I are going to spend the night here. That’s right. The door no longer has a working lock, but in one hour, as the sun goes down, we will not cross those doors until morning. We have our equipment ready to set up, including sleeping bags, and then we begin.”