The Matinee
By
George Larson
Saturday matinees were the best by far, especially the horror films. And the Rialto never disappointed. That was largely because of its atmospherics. It exuded spookiness and the live organ music accompanying the films added to its macabre nature. The place was downright creepy and we loved it.
The theater was built in 1930 during the heyday of Hollywood movies. The big screen offered much more than mere entertainment. It was the center of life in our city, a social venue and meeting place for the people who inhabited the north side of Chicago. It had operated continuously since its debut until the mid-1960s when it closed for renovation. The extensive makeover was to restore the grand dame to its original condition. And it did, much to the delight of the patrons. The chandeliers now once again glowed elegantly above, and the fresh paint sparkled under its lights. The numerous gargoyles posed above continued to sneer down, looking as if they could come alive at any moment. The seating was refurbished as well, providing a softer, cushiony feel for sensitive tushes. Overall, the Rialto had reclaimed its older glory as a cultural icon.
***
My icon at the time was Beverly. We had been going steady for the past two months and she wore my class ring on a chain around her neck. That meant I owned her or so I thought at the time. Funny how kids think of things. We were fifteen and in love or at least what passed for it. Smitten was an old-fashioned word which applied to our situation. Horny was another. Besides raging hormones or whatever, Bev and I were sympatico. We were on a date heading to the Rialto for a Saturday matinee. And not just a regular matinee, but a double feature in 3-D with two of the scariest horror films to boot. It was to be a date I would always remember because I could not forget.
We stocked up on sodas and buttered popcorn, paying the outrageous prices. Bev insisted on a box of Juju bees, her favorite. I vowed next time we would sneak in candy to avoid the costs. No matter, we were in heaven as we entered the main theater. Nothing was going to spoil our date.
Bev was sort of an enigma. Truthfully, she was wrapped in a riddle of sorts. She just transferred to my school from a Podunk out of state town I never heard of before. She was a beautiful young woman who kept to herself at least for the most part. She also didn’t make friends easily. I wasn’t sure why since she possessed beauty, brains, and a great personality, which might be intimidating to others. I guessed she was simply shy, standoffish as some people might say.
Looking around the theater, I saw groups of kids clustered about, chatting and laughing, all thoroughly enjoying themselves awaiting the lights to dim. I glanced up at the balcony seats and noticed the regulars from school. It was the designated passion pit where the crowd could smooch and grope in the darkness without their parents watching. We were too sophisticated for such immature activity, at least in public. As I looked back at Bev, I noticed her nipples protruding from her sheer blouse. The air conditioning kept the theater temperature low and that was the reason for her condition. After the movie started, I would put my arm around her shoulders to warm her up a bit. That was the least I could do for my best girl.
The organist started playing and the cinema’s curtains slowly receded. Everyone had on their 3-D glasses and was ready for the action. It was showtime and the audience applauded enthusiastically. The first film, THE BLOODSUCKER’S REVENGE, was a B grade movie at best and had lots of gore and mayhem. The title splashed across the screen in bright red dripping blood. The kids loved it! I did too. The formulaic script followed a pair of suburban teens finding a mysterious meteorite outside of town. The meteorite opened to reveal a horrific creature which grew before their very eyes. It was humanoid in most respects but certainly not others. The creature’s features ever changed, morphing its way from one form to another. After a long hibernation traveling through space, it was hungry, needing life sustaining fluids to survive. Cattle mutilations were occurring with regularity, and no one could figure out why. But the humans provided what it craved, what it needed. End of summary. Pure, corny Kitch.
It didn’t have much of a plot and even less dialogue. The special effects, however, saved the movie from the trash bin but just barely. Of course, the cops were informed by the teens about the creature, but they didn’t believe in what or who was causing the spate of gruesome murders. The best actions, the highlights of the movie, were the scenes where the 3-D features came into play. Bloody body parts shot out of the screen towards the viewers, bullets fired by the cops pierced the screen and sped directly towards the audience but just as quickly disappeared in the blink of an eye. And so on, it was awesome. The screams in the dark proved the point.
It was intermission with the lights on and people shuffling about heading back to the concession stand. Bev said she needed to freshen up. I believe the artful statement meant she had to take a pee break. No matter what, I sat alone wondering about Bev. She was evasive when I asked about her family and her past. She would answer with vague responses. But the question I wanted to answer most was why me? Why she chose me as her boyfriend. She had sought me out at school rather than the other way around. That was a strange situation for a very average-looking guy with a case of bad acne. I didn’t possess any special physical prowess or aptitude for sports, so it was not that. It was the conundrum I couldn’t sort out.
As I was caught up in my reverie about Bev, there was an announcement on the theater’s public address system. There had been a change to the second feature. The patrons booed as it was explained that due to technical difficulties THE MEN WITH X RAY EYES had been scrubbed. It was a strange message not in what it said but the way it was spoken. It was as if the announcer was speaking directly to me and only me in almost a telepathic fashion. My mind reeled as the organ music hit high staccato notes to emphasize the message. What was going on? Before I could regain my bearings, the lights dimmed and my eyes were drawn to the screen. What I saw and heard chilled me to the core.
The screen was inky black with only a pinhole of light at its center. As my eyes adjusted as the pinhole became larger and then a mellifluent voice spoke.
Hi Davey, are you enjoying yourself? How is the show?
It was Bev’s voice but how could that be? Were others hearing what I was? I looked out at the audience and they were not listening, playing with their cell phones, or simply talking to one another. No, this was Bev talking to me and me alone.
I have chosen you to be my mate for a lifetime, until the end of time. You will think of only me in your waking hours and dreams. Sweet dreams, my love. So now my dear boy, come to me so we may become one. One inseparable soul.
I couldn’t believe what Bev was saying. It was weird and unworldly. What was she? What had she become? And I asked her. Bev who or what are you?
I’m what you humans call a succubus. Out of the billions of human beings I have chosen you to spend the rest of time.
The light at center stage had now grown larger, wide enough to fill the screen. And then she suddenly appeared, the Bev I knew and loved.
I am as old as time, filling man’s mind with sexual fantasies. Haven’t you recognized me in your dreams, seductive ones where you feel drained upon waking? Haven’t you hungered for my body? Haven’t you felt me pressing down on your chest when you are sleeping? Haven’t you felt that a bond was forming between us, one that couldn’t be broken?
I admitted to myself that I had felt those sensations.
Now my love comes to me so we can become one for all eternity.
Noooooo, I shouted out loud at the beautiful girl speaking to me. No, I wouldn’t succumb to her will, her charms, her beauty. I wanted to live my life on my own. Not to be part of some creature who sucked the life out of me.
In a blink of an eye, she then changed from a lovely young woman into something else, something hideous and ugly. Her countenance now resembled a ghoul with sunken eyes and fangs for teeth. Her disassembling showed the true nature of the creature, a wizened old hag who needed the vitality of youth to keep her young and vibrant. I put my hands across my eyes to shield me from what I was seeing. It was of no use, a matter of being too little too late.
Well, my love, you were not put off when I was pretty, so why now when you see my true self? Come to me!
And I did, slowly at first as I walked to the stage in a mesmerized state. It was if I had no willpower of my own any longer. The organist followed my movements with appropriate tones of the instrument. As I stood looking up at the succubus, I saw it smile down on me. It had won and I was to be no more. A clawed hand shot out and tightly gripped me by the neck.
In one quick moment, I was pulled into the screen. I was now one with my lover forever. So much for puppy love. The next movie started to the delight of the audience.
George Larson retired as a special agent from the Diplomatic Security Service, US Department of State. He has written eight novels (Dick Avery Adventure Stories) in addition to fifteen short horror stories. He holds a BA degree in English (Nom Cum Laude).
By
George Larson
Saturday matinees were the best by far, especially the horror films. And the Rialto never disappointed. That was largely because of its atmospherics. It exuded spookiness and the live organ music accompanying the films added to its macabre nature. The place was downright creepy and we loved it.
The theater was built in 1930 during the heyday of Hollywood movies. The big screen offered much more than mere entertainment. It was the center of life in our city, a social venue and meeting place for the people who inhabited the north side of Chicago. It had operated continuously since its debut until the mid-1960s when it closed for renovation. The extensive makeover was to restore the grand dame to its original condition. And it did, much to the delight of the patrons. The chandeliers now once again glowed elegantly above, and the fresh paint sparkled under its lights. The numerous gargoyles posed above continued to sneer down, looking as if they could come alive at any moment. The seating was refurbished as well, providing a softer, cushiony feel for sensitive tushes. Overall, the Rialto had reclaimed its older glory as a cultural icon.
***
My icon at the time was Beverly. We had been going steady for the past two months and she wore my class ring on a chain around her neck. That meant I owned her or so I thought at the time. Funny how kids think of things. We were fifteen and in love or at least what passed for it. Smitten was an old-fashioned word which applied to our situation. Horny was another. Besides raging hormones or whatever, Bev and I were sympatico. We were on a date heading to the Rialto for a Saturday matinee. And not just a regular matinee, but a double feature in 3-D with two of the scariest horror films to boot. It was to be a date I would always remember because I could not forget.
We stocked up on sodas and buttered popcorn, paying the outrageous prices. Bev insisted on a box of Juju bees, her favorite. I vowed next time we would sneak in candy to avoid the costs. No matter, we were in heaven as we entered the main theater. Nothing was going to spoil our date.
Bev was sort of an enigma. Truthfully, she was wrapped in a riddle of sorts. She just transferred to my school from a Podunk out of state town I never heard of before. She was a beautiful young woman who kept to herself at least for the most part. She also didn’t make friends easily. I wasn’t sure why since she possessed beauty, brains, and a great personality, which might be intimidating to others. I guessed she was simply shy, standoffish as some people might say.
Looking around the theater, I saw groups of kids clustered about, chatting and laughing, all thoroughly enjoying themselves awaiting the lights to dim. I glanced up at the balcony seats and noticed the regulars from school. It was the designated passion pit where the crowd could smooch and grope in the darkness without their parents watching. We were too sophisticated for such immature activity, at least in public. As I looked back at Bev, I noticed her nipples protruding from her sheer blouse. The air conditioning kept the theater temperature low and that was the reason for her condition. After the movie started, I would put my arm around her shoulders to warm her up a bit. That was the least I could do for my best girl.
The organist started playing and the cinema’s curtains slowly receded. Everyone had on their 3-D glasses and was ready for the action. It was showtime and the audience applauded enthusiastically. The first film, THE BLOODSUCKER’S REVENGE, was a B grade movie at best and had lots of gore and mayhem. The title splashed across the screen in bright red dripping blood. The kids loved it! I did too. The formulaic script followed a pair of suburban teens finding a mysterious meteorite outside of town. The meteorite opened to reveal a horrific creature which grew before their very eyes. It was humanoid in most respects but certainly not others. The creature’s features ever changed, morphing its way from one form to another. After a long hibernation traveling through space, it was hungry, needing life sustaining fluids to survive. Cattle mutilations were occurring with regularity, and no one could figure out why. But the humans provided what it craved, what it needed. End of summary. Pure, corny Kitch.
It didn’t have much of a plot and even less dialogue. The special effects, however, saved the movie from the trash bin but just barely. Of course, the cops were informed by the teens about the creature, but they didn’t believe in what or who was causing the spate of gruesome murders. The best actions, the highlights of the movie, were the scenes where the 3-D features came into play. Bloody body parts shot out of the screen towards the viewers, bullets fired by the cops pierced the screen and sped directly towards the audience but just as quickly disappeared in the blink of an eye. And so on, it was awesome. The screams in the dark proved the point.
It was intermission with the lights on and people shuffling about heading back to the concession stand. Bev said she needed to freshen up. I believe the artful statement meant she had to take a pee break. No matter what, I sat alone wondering about Bev. She was evasive when I asked about her family and her past. She would answer with vague responses. But the question I wanted to answer most was why me? Why she chose me as her boyfriend. She had sought me out at school rather than the other way around. That was a strange situation for a very average-looking guy with a case of bad acne. I didn’t possess any special physical prowess or aptitude for sports, so it was not that. It was the conundrum I couldn’t sort out.
As I was caught up in my reverie about Bev, there was an announcement on the theater’s public address system. There had been a change to the second feature. The patrons booed as it was explained that due to technical difficulties THE MEN WITH X RAY EYES had been scrubbed. It was a strange message not in what it said but the way it was spoken. It was as if the announcer was speaking directly to me and only me in almost a telepathic fashion. My mind reeled as the organ music hit high staccato notes to emphasize the message. What was going on? Before I could regain my bearings, the lights dimmed and my eyes were drawn to the screen. What I saw and heard chilled me to the core.
The screen was inky black with only a pinhole of light at its center. As my eyes adjusted as the pinhole became larger and then a mellifluent voice spoke.
Hi Davey, are you enjoying yourself? How is the show?
It was Bev’s voice but how could that be? Were others hearing what I was? I looked out at the audience and they were not listening, playing with their cell phones, or simply talking to one another. No, this was Bev talking to me and me alone.
I have chosen you to be my mate for a lifetime, until the end of time. You will think of only me in your waking hours and dreams. Sweet dreams, my love. So now my dear boy, come to me so we may become one. One inseparable soul.
I couldn’t believe what Bev was saying. It was weird and unworldly. What was she? What had she become? And I asked her. Bev who or what are you?
I’m what you humans call a succubus. Out of the billions of human beings I have chosen you to spend the rest of time.
The light at center stage had now grown larger, wide enough to fill the screen. And then she suddenly appeared, the Bev I knew and loved.
I am as old as time, filling man’s mind with sexual fantasies. Haven’t you recognized me in your dreams, seductive ones where you feel drained upon waking? Haven’t you hungered for my body? Haven’t you felt me pressing down on your chest when you are sleeping? Haven’t you felt that a bond was forming between us, one that couldn’t be broken?
I admitted to myself that I had felt those sensations.
Now my love comes to me so we can become one for all eternity.
Noooooo, I shouted out loud at the beautiful girl speaking to me. No, I wouldn’t succumb to her will, her charms, her beauty. I wanted to live my life on my own. Not to be part of some creature who sucked the life out of me.
In a blink of an eye, she then changed from a lovely young woman into something else, something hideous and ugly. Her countenance now resembled a ghoul with sunken eyes and fangs for teeth. Her disassembling showed the true nature of the creature, a wizened old hag who needed the vitality of youth to keep her young and vibrant. I put my hands across my eyes to shield me from what I was seeing. It was of no use, a matter of being too little too late.
Well, my love, you were not put off when I was pretty, so why now when you see my true self? Come to me!
And I did, slowly at first as I walked to the stage in a mesmerized state. It was if I had no willpower of my own any longer. The organist followed my movements with appropriate tones of the instrument. As I stood looking up at the succubus, I saw it smile down on me. It had won and I was to be no more. A clawed hand shot out and tightly gripped me by the neck.
In one quick moment, I was pulled into the screen. I was now one with my lover forever. So much for puppy love. The next movie started to the delight of the audience.
George Larson retired as a special agent from the Diplomatic Security Service, US Department of State. He has written eight novels (Dick Avery Adventure Stories) in addition to fifteen short horror stories. He holds a BA degree in English (Nom Cum Laude).
