[Theater Reddit] The Vanishing Guest

I work the closing shift at a medium-sized theater in my hometown — nothing fancy, nothing haunted (at least, that’s what I thought). I’m mostly on concessions, which means I deal with the usual late-night weirdos: teens trying to sneak into R-rated stuff, couples who think no one can see them making out behind the Icee machine, that kind of thing.

But for the past month, we’ve had… a regular.

He looks to be late 60s or early 70s. Pale. Thin. Clothes that look like they’ve been sitting in a closet since Reagan was president. A faded brown trench coat, a white dress shirt with this yellowish tint, and this flat, old-fashioned cap he never takes off.

He always comes for the late showing, and he always asks for Theater 4.

Here’s the problem:

Theater 4 has been closed for renovations since July.

No movies. No lights. No sound. The seats are literally wrapped in plastic.

But he insists.

Every night.

He pays in cash — old cash, like bills that feel like they’ve been through a dryer a hundred times. And every time I print his ticket, the receipt comes out weird. Sometimes the ink is faded to almost nothing, sometimes the date says 1983 or 1989 or 1991.

I keep telling my manager, and he keeps shrugging it off as a printer issue.

But I’ve seen the guy. I’ve talked to him. I’ve handed him popcorn.

And after I do, he always smiles this tired little smile and says the same thing:

“See you after the credits.”

Then he walks down the hallway toward Theater 4.

And here’s the part I really don’t understand:

When I check the cameras, he’s not there.

Not walking.

Not entering the hallway.

Not sitting in the seats.

Nothing.

It’s like he disappears the moment I look away.

I thought maybe he was ducking into the bathroom or slipping back into the lobby somehow, but I’ve checked. I’ve triple-checked.

He just vanishes.

Last night was the first time it really scared me, though. At exactly midnight, the register drawer opened by itself and printed a single ticket stub.

Theater 4

Row D, Seat 8

No time. No date. No price. Just that.

I don’t want to sound dramatic but…

If he’s not alive, then who the hell have I been selling popcorn to?