The vacant theater was an eyesore, with missing bricks, broken glass, a faded marque advertising The Sound of Music. Billy had heard the rumors for years and now at 15 he was determined to find out for himself. Near midnight he sneaked out of his house with a flashlight.
He had previously discovered a side door that was unlocked. Now he crept inside, flashlight spraying the dust covered refreshment stand with an ancient bar of Snickers alone in the glass case.
He moved slowly and got almost to the front of the theater, listening for any sound. A gurgling came from the balcony, as though someone were choking on his own blood. A short, piercing scream.
The lights came on. There they were, dozens, moving toward him, crouched, drooling, growling, dressed as though it was the mid-sixties.
Suddenly all movement ceased and they bean singing 'The hills are alive with the sound of music." On impulse Billy joined in. But, unfortunately he had a life long pitch problem. By the second verse they were creeping toward him again, even more pissed. At least I know the words, he screamed before they were on him.
No comments:
Post a Comment