Halloween was the best night of the year, not only for trick-or-treating and parties, but for the many horror movies that bring customers in. Closing shift was for the theater was a-lot. Bunches of candy and cups to restock, paired with much more popcorn to clean up. It was such a small town, the crew expected people to be out doing their own thing, not all gathering at the run down dollar theater.
The team finally gets to lock the doors, beginning the closing process. Caleb is counting the candies as Ivy comes from the back with a basket full of drink cups and popcorn buckets in her arms.
Her brown hair is cut in a choppy wolf cut, bangs just barely skimming her eyebrows. She ducks down and pulls some cups out of the sleeve.
“Busy night, yeah?” she says.
“Busiest it’s been since *Forrest Gump*,” Caleb sighs. He’s got the same style as James—who's currently behind the concession counter pouring liquid into the popper—baggy jeans, rising star hoodie, sleeves shoved up his forearms—but he’s shorter, a little more compact. Like a younger brother.
She laughs. “God, remember the lady who came in five times that week just to cry in row C?”
“She bought popcorn every time too, I don't think the boss is complaining.”
Ivy tosses a broken cup into the trash with a perfect arc. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many costumes in one night. Did you catch the guy in the scarecrow mask?”
Caleb pauses, eyebrows knitting.
“The tall guy…? Didn’t buy a ticket. Just kinda… stood in the hallway.”
He stops counting. “I thought he was with the guy in the Michael Myers getup.”
“Nope. I asked. That guy came alone.”
They exchange a glance.
“Whatever… nothing can scare me these days,” he says.
“Sure,” she giggles.
A thud sounds behind them. They turn to look.
James is behind them rubbing his head with a scrubby in his free hand. He’s got short, messy brown hair slicked with sweat from working, his hoodie darkened at the pits.
“You guys! I’m *trying* to focus,” he groans, face half-lit by the dim overhead bulbs. “This machine is stupid. This oil is never coming off.”
Caleb chuckles, not looking up from his candy count. “Luckily I never have to touch the damn thing.”
“I swear there’s a whole layer of popcorn just… fossilized back here,” James mutters.
“Focus,” Ivy calls, putting the last of the drink cups into the holder. “It's the last thing you have to do tonight, you know, besides changing and getting ready for the party.”
That gets James’s attention. He tousles his hair again.
“Did someone bring the good radio this time? Because if I have to dance to that old Boombox again, I’m walking out.”
“I’ve got it covered,” Ivy says, grinning. “And Naomi’s bringing the blacklight balloons.”
As if on cue, the front doors rattle with a sharp knock. Caleb runs up to let them in. Naomi and Theo push through, arms full of bags and props.
Naomi’s a shorter Hispanic girl with bright eyes and glittery horns atop her head, her mesh cape fluttering behind her. Theo—also hispanic—tall and skinny, wears sunglasses over his skeleton face paint.
“We’re late, but we brought everything Tessa asked for!” Naomi announces, lifting a tote full of decorations and snacks.
“And drinks,” Theo adds, holding up a box of juice.
James steps back from the popcorn machine, dramatically flinging his cleaning rag aside. “My shift is over. Morning shift can worry about filling the seeds. Let's go.”
He slips into the ‘Employees Only’ door, disappearing from sight.
Music switches from the overhead radio to a Halloween mix—bassy, weird, and perfect. Ivy flicks on the orange string lights around the counter. Theo starts unpacking glow sticks while Naomi sticks plastic candy apples onto the concession counter.
Neveiah arrives from the back hallway still in her uniform, red frizzy hair piled high on her head and her signature tired smirk in place.
“You guys are early,” she says, pushing herself up on the concession counter, kicking her feet lightly against the cabinet below.
“Well we gotta start setting up!” Ivy says, stringing up the last of the blacklight balloons. “Ten minutes early is basically fashionably late in theater hours.”
Caleb tosses Neveiah a bag of candy. “Welcome to chaos. Your costume is ‘exhausted usher,’ I assume?”
Neveiah shrugs and tears open the bag. “Honestly? Most authentic thing I’ve got.”
“Okay but are we actually watching a movie tonight or just going full dance floor in the aisles?”
“Both,” Caleb says. “Movie plays in the background. Party happens wherever there’s floor space.”
More of the crew trickles in—Nora in a devil onesie, her anxious eyes darting to every flickering light but her nervous energy softens when someone smiles at her. Miles, a bigger black man, lumbers in behind her, a soft nod, his greeting, as he surveys the scene.
The lights in the lobby go dimmer, replaced by the soft purple pulse of the blacklights and the flicker of candles (fake, of course) scattered across the counter.
James reappears from the back, dawning a baseball player outfit covered in blood, climbs up onto the refill fridge and lifts a Capri Sun like a trophy, before ripping the straw off the container and poking it through the bag.
“Alright, team. We survived the busiest night of the year. No fires, no crying kids, no broken projectors.”
“No *actual* ghosts,” Ivy adds.
“Not yet,” Caleb mutters, already digging in a pizza roll bag, aligning them on a tray.
James grins. “So tonight, we party like we’re not all back here for morning shift tomorrow.”
A round of groans and laughter fills the room, but nobody’s arguing.
A bass-heavy remix of "*Somebody’s Watching Me*" starts playing, echoing down the empty hallways. Blacklight balloons bob along the ceiling tiles as the crew spreads out, some moving the party to the back. Propping the door open, they start rearranging chairs and tossing bean bags into the corners of Theater 8.
Soon Mya and Adrian arrive—both in matching ghost t-shirts, though they definitely didn’t coordinate. Mya, with her streaked green-and-blonde hair and Victorian brooch. Adrian’s a geeky, sharp-eyed girl, quietly excited, hyper-focused on the nachos in her hand.
“Don’t judge us,” Mya says. “I'm not sure pizza rolls are going to fill all our bellies.”
Naomi waves them in. “Put the nachos on the table. Hopefully someone doesn't eat them all in one go.”
As they move to set up, the side door to the staff hallway opens again.
Jasper strolls in, trench coat flapping, holding a fog machine under his right arm. He’s definitely high out of his mind, but he brings a chill vibe to all the other chaotic coworkers. Clara skips in behind him, cheeks smeared with glow-in-the-dark body paint, glitter in her blond hair. She’s the newest hire, though she and Neveiah go way back.
“Prepare to transcend,” Jasper says, plugging in the fog machine near the screen. “We’re making this place *cinematic*.”
“I did my eyeliner in the break room,” Clara adds.
From the auditorium doors, the sound of jingling keys and a clearing throat cuts through the music.
“Please tell me no one’s lighting anything flammable,” says Tessa, the general manager. She’s around forty, with thin blonde hair always pulled into a ponytail, and the kind of voice that’s both tired and sharp. She wears a button-up shirt with tiny pumpkins on it and carries herself like a chaperone to a sleepover she didn’t want to host.
“Just fog,” Ivy says sweetly.
“And nachos,” Neveiah offers.
Tessa surveys the theater—blacklights, vampire teeth, soda cans, staff strewn across seats like they own the place—and sighs.
“I’m turning a blind eye for two hours. After that, if someone’s asleep where the cameras can see them, i’m writing them up.”
A cheer goes up from the crew as Tessa drops her keys into her tote and pulls a Diet Coke from the cooler—also drug in by Jasper.
James and Caleb finally arrive. Caleb now dressed in jeans and a hoodie, a bloody handprint covering the left side of his face.
“He didn't bring a costume so I felt it was appropriate to make him fit in just a little bit.” James says holding up his right hand, stained a red tint.
Following them, Lillian and Olivia appear from the main hallway. Lillian is tiny—barely over five feet—with a bob and bangs and a permanently glittery aesthetic. Olivia wears a curtain-turned-toga and adjusts her glasses, geeky charm radiating as she pushes her curly hair out of her face.
“Are we late?” Lillian asks.
“Perfect timing,” Caleb says. “We were about to break out the gummy worm roulette.”
Olivia blinks. “Wait—roulette?”
“With consequences,” Theo smirks.
The final figure to arrive is Lila. She enters the theater with a soft, almost hesitant gait, her white lab coat billowing around her as if she’s just stepped out of some cheesy mad scientist movie. Her glasses are a little crooked, her short blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, and mismatched socks peek from under her boots. Lila’s the kind of person everyone loves—realistic, funny, and effortlessly cool in a way that makes the chaos feel safer.
“Did someone say gummy worm roulette?” She asks with a half-smile, and the room falls silent for a beat, before the laughter starts again.
“She’s here for the best part,” Caleb says with a smirk.
Lila sets her purse down on the table and unbuttoned her coat to reveal an old “Mad Scientist” t-shirt underneath. “So, we got all the gummy worms?”
“We’re about to start!” Ivy calls, already taking her seat. “Let’s get this party started before my feet turn into jelly.”
Caleb plops down next to Lila, tilting the bowl of pizza rolls toward her. “So, what’s the deal with this roulette? It’s gotta be spooky, right?”
Theo grins. “Think of it as Russian roulette, but with gummy worms and questionable consequences. Worst case scenario, you’ll have a sugar high for days.”
Lila raises an eyebrow but shrugs, pulling her jacket tighter around her. “I can handle a little sugar.”
“Don’t say that until you’re eating the habanero worm,” Neveiah teases.
The group starts to gather, some already sprawled out in beanbags while others hover around the table, eyes on the nachos. The glow from the blacklight balloons and fog machine bathing the room in an eerie purple haze.
Tessa takes a long look at her team—somehow both exhausted and thrilled to be here. She steps to the side, watching as the gang gets comfortable.
“No fires, no broken projectors, and no one died tonight,” Tessa mutters to herself, the slightest smile curling at the corner of her mouth. She leans against the wall, a silent guardian to their madness, for now.
“All right! Let’s get this thang going!” Ivy says. She hands out a handful of gummy worms to each team member. The rules are simple: one’s a regular, one’s super sour, one’s spicy—whoever gets the weird one, well, they pay the price. It’s a fun tradition no one can resist.
The large theater speakers changing to the opening theme of *The Thing*, sound too quiet for everyone to really pay attention, and the room goes quiet for a moment, everyone settling into their spots. The theater is filled with a quiet hum of contentment, the hum of a small-town crew who have spent so many hours working together, but tonight, for once, they get to just be.
James lifts his Capri Sun again. “To surviving the night,” he says, his voice louder now, and everyone joins in with a chorus of cheers.
“To surviving the night!” they echo, laughter rising again. The first gummy worm disappears into someone’s mouth with a dramatic wince, and the group bursts into fits of laughter.
Tessa, watching all of them with a hint of fondness, takes a quiet sip of her Diet Coke and looks up at the screen.
This—this was their place.
Their night.
And for now, it was enough.