The Kids’ Matinee That Never Happened

Projectionist here… something was sitting in Theater 6 this morning, and it wasn’t any of our customers.

Hey everyone. Long-time lurker, first-time poster. I’ve worked at my local movie theater for about six years—mostly as a projectionist, which means I’m usually the first person in the building, alone, dealing with old equipment that likes to break at the most inconvenient possible moments.

I’ve seen weird stuff before—shadows moving in empty auditoriums, the occasional sound of someone shifting in a seat when I know nobody’s there—but Tuesday morning was different. Like, “I might actually quit this job” different.

It was a slow day. No early screenings, just maintenance work and test runs. Around 9 AM, I went upstairs to start checking the projectors. Theater 6 had a busted automation cue the night before, so I wanted to verify everything before the afternoon showings.

I queued up the system to run the pre-show test reel… only the feed that popped up wasn’t the test reel. It wasn’t anything I recognized. The screen flickered and then switched to a live feed—one of the auditorium cameras. Only… it wasn’t now.

The auditorium was full.

I don’t just mean “a few workers cleaning.” I mean every row had kids sitting in it—dozens of them, all dressed in old-fashioned 1950s clothes. Little boys in suspenders, girls with ribbons in their hair, shiny Mary Janes tapping against the floor. All of them facing forward, hands folded in their laps, staring at a blank screen like they were watching the most important film of their lives.

Not one of them moved. Not one of them talked. They were just… there.

At first, I thought maybe I’d accidentally pulled some archival video, some promotional thing we had stored somewhere—but then one of the kids turned their head. Slowly. Like they were reacting to me adjusting the feed. But I was on the second floor, behind a projector booth window. There was no way they could have seen me.

My eyes started to sting from not blinking. I’m not kidding—I was scared to blink. But eventually I did.

And the second my eyes shut and opened again, the feed was back to normal. Empty auditorium. Just rows of seats and the stupid wavy carpet pattern we all hate.

I didn’t want to go down there. Every instinct said don’t go down there. But protocol is protocol, and if there’s any chance someone was inside before opening, we have to check.

So I went.

I expected silence, maybe the hum of the air conditioning.

Instead I got the faint smell of sugar. Like the heavy, syrupy sweetness you get at the old candy shops—cherry drops, root beer barrels, taffy.

And on the floor, scattered across the front few rows, were candy wrappers.

Not modern ones. These were waxy paper wrappers with faded pastel stripes, printed in fonts I’d never seen. The brands were things like “Fizzles,” “Kandy-Kurls,” “Sweet Jaw Taffy Co.” Stuff that looks retro but also… wrong. Like props from a movie that never actually existed.

I picked one up. It crumbled from age the second I touched it.

We don’t sell anything even close to that.

And we hadn’t had a single guest yet that day.

I told my manager. He shrugged it off, said maybe some kids snuck in the night before and brought their own snacks. Sure. Because groups of kids in 1950s cosplay regularly break into theaters at 3 AM to sit quietly in the dark eating discontinued candy.

I threw the wrappers away, but part of me wishes I kept one—just to prove it really happened.

But here’s the part that’s bothering me the most:

During the first show of the day, I went back upstairs to monitor the feed (masochist, apparently). Everything looked normal until the auditorium lights started fading for the previews.

Right before the screen went dark, I swear I saw a faint shape in the back row on the camera feed. Small. Sitting perfectly still.

And the second the lights were all the way down…

It wasn’t there anymore.

Has anything like this ever happened at your theater? Or am I actually losing it?

I’m scheduled to open again tomorrow, and honestly, I’m considering calling in sick. I don’t want to know what I’ll see if the camera “glitches” like that again.