“Come on, that ending was such a cop-out”.

“Mhm, complete waste of money”. 

Stepping through the door, our smiles turned to grimaces as the radiance of the fluorescent lights created a sudden void of whiteness. “Are your parents on the way?” I asked. 

“After they finish shopping. Could be another twenty or so. I’ll call.” Frankie responded. Immediately overcome with boredom from the thought of lingering here any longer, I turn my attention to the screen of movie titles at the front of the theater. Paranormal activity, Men in Black 3, Brave, the Avengers… I lock eyes with him. One of his eyes drifts lazily to the right. I quickly shift my focus to the floor. I still feel his leering gaze on me, caressing me, studying the form of my prepubescent body. Intentionally, I keep my gaze down, trying to avoid anymore interactions. In the slim field of vision I have given myself, I can see his feet pointed dead straight in my direction. I’m being watched. Subconsciously, my body positions itself to run. As if he were a silent spider I pray that when I look back he will have vanished, but simultaneously, I understand that keeping my eye on him is my best defense. I look. My gut wrenches when I see those bulging eyes staring through me. Timidly, I attempt to assert my dominance and stare back. His lanky body is entirely legs that streamline down from his bright purple short-shorts, his hair is fashioned in a boyish bowl cut which gives a disturbing juxtaposition to his beer-gut. Suddenly, in a hurried, ungraceful waddle, he starts toward us, slipping through the ticket booth. A wave of anxiety shoots down my spine and thinking on my feet, I grip Frankie’s small, delicate, arm and B-line for the exit. “What are you doing?” she asks, trying to take back possession of her arm. Her brow, furrowed in anger and confusion, softens to concern as she notices the fear in my eyes. I search for camouflage and find it in the giant columns that line the front entrance to the theater. Our tiny bodies are hidden easily by the stone pillar. “What is going on?” Frankie exclaims in desperation. The tone in her voice indicates that I haven’t been responding, as I was consumed in protecting our safety, not knowing if danger really exists. “I think a man is watching us”, I whisper. 

“Who?” The door flings open and through the tinted glass I can see those purple shorts. My heart drops. As if I needed clarification, at that moment I became aware that he didn’t watch a movie, nor did he have any intention to. Vulnerable in the dark, his gaze felt like a blinding flashlight, hunting for us. I can see his shadow, looking behind the pillars on the right side of the theater, only five away from where we stand. He lets out a bone chilling whistle, a higher pitch, followed by a lower pitch. I hear the door to the movie theater open and the loud chatter of a group of women. I have to make my move. “Follow me,” I command. “Hey!” I call out in a friendly voice. 

Their talking stops in confusion as I emerge from behind the stone wall. In small, quick steps I skip over to them. “Please help,” I mouth. “Thanks for picking me up!” Awkward chuckles come from the girls behind me. I make eye contact but repeatedly glance away to check on the mysterious man’s location, signaling for someone to take a look. The girl in front picks up on this behavior and eventually turns behind her. Seeing the man, she pulls us closer to her and whispers “I got it”. 

After an eternity of latching onto my protector’s leg, I see the familiar car pull up to the front. I desperately call out my thank yous while speeding to the car door, pulling on the handle ten times before it opens. 

Through the bluetooth speakers of the car I could hear the panicked phone conversation of her parents frantically relaying the story to the movie workers. The person on the other end of the phone cuts her off: “Was he about 6’3”, with a bowl-cut?” Yes. 

“Yes” her mom replies. 

“He is a registered sex offender is not allowed on the property. Last week he was arrested for assaulting a young girl in the mall”. 

Had it not been for that group of kind, welcoming women, and the onset of paranoia that accompanies a horror movie, this story could have been published on the news, instead of in this English class. The things we watch in movies are inspired by real events. Trust your gut. We aren’t immortal, or untouchable. Bad things can happen to anyone even in the safest towns. One experience left me forever afraid to be alone at night, which unfortunately will probably leach into my future parenting as I have learned not to trust strangers, and the thought of children wandering alone at night pains me. There are sick people in this world that aren’t afraid to take advantage of innocent passersby. And if a frightened stranger comes up to you, and pretends they are your friend, please, play along, you could be saving a life. This isn’t just movie madness. 

Thank you, Jennifer.