Over the Balcony

Young Jordan Hutchins did not want to be ghost hunting, and especially on a school night. Ryan and CJ, both scabby-kneed and SnapBack wearing, were practically foaming at the mouth to catch a glimpse of the elusive Rebecca Water. Any teenager who entered The Clapboard movie theater knew the legend of Rebecca Water, and even if it was not their main goal of the evening to search for her ghostly figure, they would keep an eye out for her. Just in case. Anyone who lived in the town of Redwood knew the legend of Rebecca Water. Hell, anyone who drove through Redwood and stopped at the gas station in the center of town would come to know the legend of Rebecca Water. Teenagers from the local high school would swap spit and swap stories about Rebecca Water’s death. They would talk about how Rebecca Water died in 1965 while watching The Sound of Music. She was sitting alone in the balcony section when she got up to go to the bathroom. Apparently it was dark, the floor hadn’t been properly cleaned, and when the employees of the theater went in after the showing, they found her body, having slipped and fallen over the balcony and into the seats below.

Jordan wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts, and doubted Rebecca would appear for the likes of them, even if she did exist.

“Don’t be such a pussy, J.”

“I’m not a-”

“Shut up, someone’s coming!”

The three boys scrambled with their long legs and pointed elbows into an empty hallway. Every teenager who took the time out of their week to investigate The Clapboard theater knew that the employees who worked there did not take break-ins lightly, especially if it was something as ludicrous as looking for the ghost of Rebecca Water. If a person wanted to see her ghost, they could pay $15 for the ghost tour that was held every Sunday like the rest of the customers. Footsteps grew louder, louder, louder, and then quieter, quieter, quieter, until the unidentified employee walked straight past the boys.

“Seriously, this is so not worth it. They banned Kelsey and her friends the other day because they were caught using a fucking Ouija board in the theater instead of watching Toy Story 4. I cannot get caught because of this,” said Jordan.

“Again, don’t be such a p—“

“Hey, a Ouija board is a good idea. We should get one—“

“God! Jesus, fine. Let’s just get this over with.” Jordan pushed past Ryan into the other hallway while CJ, wearing his obnoxious, highlighter yellow basketball shorts, took the lead. It was a mystery to Jordan how they hadn’t been caught yet. One by one, the boys crept along the wall, narrowly avoiding the security cameras and slipping into the theater.

The Clapboard was not by any means a small theater. It opened in 1922 and was deemed a movie palace, a place where upper class citizens would go see films at least once a week. The building itself was sprawling, magnificent, and old. Original velvet seats, beautifully designed arches and doorways, and a larger-than-life movie screen at the very center of it all. The only way to access the balcony section was to enter the theater and go up the staircase that was located at the left side of the seats.

As expected, the boys were drowned in darkness as soon as the door closed behind them. Digging out cell phones, three pale flashlights illuminated the space soon after. No one dared speak a word, for fear of ruining the carefully cultivated silence. Jordan barely breathed. They ascended the staircase to the balcony, gingerly placing their feet on each step. Once they reached the top, they surveyed their new perspective of the theater as if it were their kingdom. They filed into the front row of the balcony, right where Rebecca Water would have sat.

“Did you know—” CJ began.

A chorus of shushes ripped from the other boy’s throats. CJ shut up immediately. It was so still, not even the traffic from the road next to the theater could be heard. The boys’ facial features were both elongated and crumpled by the flashlights’ movements. Shadows twisted viciously at the walls while the boys held their breaths.

Ryan smiled a creepy little smile and said, “Rebecca Water, are you here?”

“Jesus Christ, Ryan.” Jordan slumped down into his seat and ran his hands over his face. CJ snorted, looking highly entertained.

“What? You didn’t have to come.”

“I know, but you shouldn’t just start off like that. You have to introduce yourself first.”

“How the fuck would you know? You do a lot of ghost hunting in your spare time?”

“Dude, I just think—”

And that’s when their flashlights went out. All three of them. If someone were to ask the boys later that evening what their reactions were, each boy would deny to the ends of the earth that they screeched like banshees when they were sent hurtling into the darkness.

A beat of silence, and then a faint tune began playing. The boys held their breath, and the tune began growing louder. Jordan swore it sounded like “Sixteen Going on Seventeen” from The Sound of Music, but he couldn’t be positive. The lyrics began, murderously slow, and, yes, the song playing was indeed “Sixteen Going on Seventeen.”

“Motherfucker!”

The boys clambered over each other, over the backs of the seats, and ran. Jordan, being at the back of the trio, fumbled with his cell phone’s flashlight while CJ and Ryan booked it down the stairs. In an unsuccessful attempt at turning the light back on, Jordan dropped his phone beneath the seats. Deciding with very little time, he settled on leaving his phone in the darkness and running for it. He caught a glimpse of Ryan’s shadow moving down the stairs, and just as he made it to the stairwell, the door slammed shut. Jordan would have run head first into the door if his body had not been suddenly drenched in cold. Every nerve in his fight or flight system was screaming to take flight and leave whatever hellish nightmare this was.

“What are you doing here?” That was the moment Jordan promptly lost his shit. Standing behind him was a woman — no, a girl — who appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen. Right around Jordan’s age. Jordan whirled around and let out a punched gasp. The girl flinched and grimaced, and asked again, “What are you doing here?” Jordan did not say a word, his voice wouldn’t let him. The only thought that flashed across his mind was,

“You’re a lot younger than they say you were,” his voice cracked, “they said you were an adult!”

“Well, that’s quite rude.”

Rebecca Water stood a yard or so away from Jordan, wearing her hair in an updo that was long lost to the decades. The air around Jordan air turned frigid, and he could see wisps of his breath in front of him. This must have been some sick joke. CJ must be orchestrating all of this, Jordan thought. He’s really into special effects and he’s going to college next fall for movies and shit, so he must be doing this.

“Would you like to watch a film with me?”

“Notreallythankyou!”

“Well, I suppose you have no choice.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like watching movies alone. I never have. You know, they say awful things about me,” Rebecca Water looked so real it was horrifying. In movies, ghosts always had a shimmering haze around them, or they looked transparent, but not Rebecca. She looked solid, like Jordan could reach out and touch the fabric of her yellow dress, “they say that I died when I got up to use the restroom. I certainly wasn’t going to the restroom.”

“What were you doing?” Jordan felt his heart was hammering through his chest.

“I was supposed to be on a date with Skip Sytulek. He stood me up. I was leaving the theater to check if he was in the lobby, but it was so dark in the balcony and I couldn’t see where I was going. That’s what they always leave out. Skip Sytulek’s parents owned this theater. They didn’t want to cause a scandal, so they just said I was going to the restroom.”

“Holy shit.”

“But now you’re here! Would you like to watch a film with me?”

“I should really get going. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this if you don’t want me to but I—”

“Jordan,” how did Rebecca know his name? “I don’t think you can do that.”

“Why?”

Rebecca paused. She looked like she was about to say something, and then cut herself off. “You know, I’ve always found comfort in the emptiness of movie theaters. It makes it easier to get immersed in the world of the film you’re watching.” As she said this, Rebecca Water peered over the edge of the balcony, a forlorn look etched into her eyes. Jordan followed her gaze and looked into the rows of seats below. Body contorted, arms and legs askew, head tilted, lay Jordan Hutchins’ body.

“I’ve been waiting so long for someone else to come along and share this with me.”