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 Medley of Monster Flicks, Open
Hotaru Myeong
 Posted: Sep 25 2017, 12:04 PM

"The sky is so beautiful. A graveyard of stars."

Rep: 5 pts [ + | - ]

Hotaru Myeong
© Mari // She, Her
Awards: 11

All the world was a stage. Dark eyes studied the piles of pillows and blankets she had carried over, her small arms and petite figure making it difficult to carry more than a couple at a time. Eventually the pale witch had managed to get about fifteen blankets and pillow sets into the theater. A white sheet had been pulled taut and mounted where the actors would usually take their place upon the stage. A crowd of empty seats were witness to the witch’s working, their phantom silence only making her steps and motions that much louder. Because the theater was made for sound and noise, everything was heightened and bounced back to her in perfect acoustics. Small charms had been placed in the corners of the large room, they would serve as microphones. A make-shift surround sound.

Sitting where the orchestra would usually settle was an old school projector. Unfortunately she couldn’t bring anything truly electronic that would make the school’s magic interfere with it. This was brought from home, meant to have been set in the Hufflepuff common room or even her dorm room for private screenings. Instead she’d taken the reels of film, the projector and blankets to the theater for a showing. Surprisingly enough the witch was not worried about having someone join her or not considering Salem was already attacking the stack of blankets for what she assumed was his favorite.

Dark hair grazed her cheek as she cocked her head, pausing in the middle of spreading a sheet out to lie on as her familiar swatted at a pillow. “Those aren’t for you.” Hotaru’s voice was soft but still managed to echo back at her, the acoustics picking up on the sound of her voice. The cat ignored her entirely, his spine scrunching as he prepared to jump up and swat at the pillow again. She gave a small shake of her head and continued setting up the resting area, crawling along it and fluffing pillows or adding padding where the floor was still too hard to rest on comfortably.

Once she was satisfied with the pillow and blanket bed she’d made, Hotaru set up a small space with buttered popcorn, caramel popcorn balls, drinks and other miscellaneous Halloween candies and treats. She surveyed her work, a string of fairy lights leading from the entrance of the theater to the seating space she’d created. Next to the projector were several video reels stacked in metal cases. She picked them up and shuffled through them. She had everything from Jason Voorhees to A Nightmare on Elm Street, to the silent film of Nosferatu. The latter was something the pale witch had seen with the aunts and the pilgrimess. Given the leaps and bounds muggle science had made from then to now the film was less haunting and more of the cheesy horror variety.

Pale fingers pulled the reel from its casing and mounted it on the projector. Her fingers moved with ease around the machine, pulling the movie tape through carefully. She fed it into the other cassette before turning the projector on. With her wand, Hotaru dimmed the fairy lights to mimic those of a muggle movie theater, just enough to see by but not enough to distract from what would happen on stage. White noise filled the theater as the machine whirred to life and then crackled with the feeding of the reel. The charms threw the noise at Hotaru, who grabbed a ball of candy popcorn and after plucking Salem off a pillow, curled her body up around her familiar on the bed of pillows. She draped a blanket over her bare legs, void-like eyes watching the letters coming on the screen while eerie introduction music set the mood. Scratchy images appeared and disappeared on the projection screen, their transition a little shaky instead of smooth like the ones in movie theaters. Yet this made the eerie feeling of being watched much more authentic.

The witch had been drawn into this world of Jason Voorhees, captivated by what would inevitably happen to notice that someone had entered the theater; perhaps drawn by the noise coming from within.

[O P E N]

✩my thoughts are stars i can't fathom into constellations

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