The Theater Play Through

Chapter 8- Afterword

(Author's Note: Alright, here is the conclusion to the story, and what actually happened after the disc broke in the basement. Thanks so much for reading! 
~ Labridae) 

Afterword…

May’s POV:

Many hours have passed since we put the game back into the storage locker, and the evening has been pretty uneventful, which is actually such a good thing after all of what happened to us earlier. I have spent the evening so far lounging in the living room while drinking many mugs of tea with Annie. Tea always seems to make a situation better, and we definitely needed it now. She has been on her laptop on the couch the whole time, writing her article, and I have been collapsed on the squishy armchair reading. After about an hour or so, I finally finished reading the last part of the book that I’d gotten from the bookstore that I wanted to read earlier. (I would’ve read it sooner, but… You know why.)

I closed my book with a snap, and sat up in the chair. Annie looked up from her laptop, and put her mug of tea on the coffee table in front of her.

“Done already?” She asked. I nodded, still deep in thought about the ending. “How was it?” She asked.

“It was pretty good,” I said, walking over to the couch and sitting down. “But the ending was definitely not what I expected.” Annie hummed as a response, and picked up her laptop once more. She started furiously typing for a few more seconds, and triumphantly hit the enter key.

“It’s finished,” She announced, leaning back into the cushions with a sigh. “I wonder how my audience will like it,” she remarked. “Since this is a rare first hand experience of mine, I wonder if they’ll take it seriously.” I shrugged. Everything that Annie wrote usually got a pretty good response from her many devoted readers.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said. “Plus it’s plenty of free promotions for me!” I grinned. “So now that you’re done your article, what do you want to do now? It’s only 9:30.” Annie shrugged. “Remember that photo album I got from the old storage locker? I didn’t look through a lot of it yet, so that might be fun to look through.” Annie walked to the office to retrieve the photo album and I walked to the kitchen to pour two more mugs of boiling water for tea. Annie returned about a minute later with the green photo album and walked into the kitchen.

“What kind of tea would you like?” I asked. “I have some more green, some youthberry and orange blossom, chai, chamomile, and some black tea.” I took out a black tea bag and placed it in the waiting mug next to me. Annie took the box down from the cabinet and fished out a green tea bag and placed it in the other mug. Together we headed back across the room into the living room. Annie flipped open the photo album, and on the front inside cover was an inscription written in blue ink. The letters were written in a spidery slanted script that was kind of difficult to read.

Annie’s POV:

I took a sip of my green tea and scanned the inscription. I loved old things like this; they all seem to have their own special charm to them. It took me a while to read exactly what was being said, but I think I made most of it out.

Dearest Daughter,

I was going through some old odds and ends of mine, when I found this old album filled with pictures of you and your brother when you two were children. I figured that this would be a treasured heirloom for your children to look at when they are older, and maybe they’ll pass it onto their children as well.

-Mother

 June 17 1956

“That was really nice,” I said. “I wonder if one of the original owner’s children lived in the apartments and left it behind.” I flipped to the next page. A picture of a family sitting around a large oak tree was in the top right hand corner of the page. Next to it, was what looked like a birthday party in the garden, beneath the same oak tree. Party guests were seated around a picnic table, and what must’ve been the birthday girl was sitting at the end of the table, surrounded by presents with a large cake in front of her. I smiled as I looked at all of their happy faces posing for the camera. I looked over to May who was absorbed in the photo album, sipping her tea quietly. I flipped the page and the pictures continued. There was a picture documenting the first day of school, with two children standing on the front porch of a handsome old house. The next one was of a little boy running around a park, while the mother looked on. He had such a happy look on his face, and I couldn’t help but smile as well. The next page jumped forwards in time, because the children had grown up into young adolescents. The family was posing in front of a building with a lit up sign in the window, documenting the show times of a movie called Stagecoach. It was a movie theater. There were smiles on each of the 5 faces standing in front of the large ornate windows with movie posters plastering them. I was prepared to flip the page until I felt May inhale sharply. I put the page down and glanced over to May. “What’s wrong?” I asked quizzically. May pointed towards the movie theater photo.

“What the heck is that?” She asked, her voice trembling slightly. I leaned in closer to the photo album and glanced to where her finger was pointing. To the left of the family on a movie poster was a small figure, blurry in black and white. It was hard to make out, but it looked like a picture of a man with very strange features. I shook my head, and flipped to the next page.

“It’s nothing,” I said reassuringly. “It’s just a movie poster.” I glanced down at the page, and there were more pictures of the theater, only this time, the family was inside the lobby of the theater. Everything was quite beautiful, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and velvet benches situated every few feet along the walls. I scanned the photo, taking in the scene. I looked in the corner of the photograph, next to the ticket booth, and in the shadows was a figure, standing with their hands behind their back. I didn’t say anything, worrying I’d freak out May if I did. Below was another photograph, only this time it was of the girl, sitting in the backyard with a few friends. This time, I immediately recognized that something was very wrong. May noticed it as well, because we both looked at each other and looked back at the page.

 In the background, standing next to the oak tree, was a man. But it wasn’t just any man. We recognized him immediately. It was the ticket taker. No, it couldn’t be. How in the world could this have continued?  May grabbed the album and flipped through the pages feverishly, and landed on page after page. The ticket taker was in every photo, and every photo he got closer and closer to the family. He was standing behind the mother, posing with her husband. He was standing over a new baby in a crib.

“May, stop!” I cried. She reached the last page of the album. The ticket taker was standing directly in the center of the photo, eyes blank and staring. Right before our eyes, the photo began to change. The blank expression changed to one of fury, his face setting into a scowl. We couldn't shut the album in time.