Behind the Screen

Posted by u/BackRowJanitor – 1 month ago

I’ve worked as a janitor at our local theater for about six years. I’m the guy who stays after closing, sweeps the popcorn, mops up sodas, unclogs the toilets — all the glamorous stuff.

I’m also the only one left in the building most nights.

Which is why I’m the only one who hears it.

Every night, usually around 2 or 3 AM when I’m doing the last sweep, I hear voices coming from behind the screens. Not from the speakers — from behind them. Whispering. Footsteps. Sometimes the sound of chairs shifting or someone clearing their throat.

You’re probably thinking: “It’s rats” or “It’s the projector echoing through the wall.”

Yeah. I wish.

Last week I finally decided to look.

It was Theater 1 — our biggest auditorium. I kept hearing this soft murmur, like a crowd settling in before a show. Except there was no show. The last movie ended at 11, and I’d already turned everything off.

I walked up to the screen with my flashlight, but the closer I got, the louder the voices sounded. Not talking… more like breathing. A whole room full of people all taking slow breaths at the same time.

The air behind the screen always feels cold, but this time it felt occupied.

I pulled the bottom corner of the screen just an inch — just enough to peek behind.

I shouldn’t have looked.

Behind the screen…

there weren’t cables, or the wall, or the maintenance ladder like usual.

There were rows of seats.

Seats that shouldn’t be there.

Seats that aren’t there on any map or blueprint.

And every single one of them was filled.

Dozens of people sitting in perfect silence, facing me. Not moving. Not blinking. Just… watching. Like I was the show.

My flashlight flickered — I swear I didn’t drop it — and for a split second their faces changed. Almost like the light made them rearrange themselves. Like they didn’t want me to see what they really looked like.

I stumbled back, let go of the screen, and everything went black behind it again. When I pulled the screen open a second time, there was nothing. Just the wall. Back to normal.

I tried to tell my manager the next day. He didn’t even pretend to care.

Just said, “Stop going behind the screens. That area’s restricted for a reason.”

A reason.

Like he knew.

Anyway, now when I sweep at night, I don’t look toward the screens at all. I keep my eyes on the sticky floors and hope I’m not being… observed.

But the breathing — that slow, synchronized breathing — is getting louder every night.

I don’t think I’m supposed to hear it.

I definitely wasn’t supposed to see them.

And I’m terrified that one night, the screen is going to lift on its own.

And whatever’s behind it is going to come out to watch me.