FROM THE INSIDE 
by Glenn Smith

Ever get the feeling that something just is not right? Like going into a strange store where everything looks the same on the outside but once inside, something just does not smell right... You know? This was that kind of place. In a part of town I hadn't been to before. I had heard vague stories here and there but never anything that was believable or real. It had always appeared so normal, until now.

We, my girlfriend and I, decided to go to a movie there. A cult film we had heard about but had never had the chance to see. It being a rather small town, we sometimes had to wait a year or more, with plenty of requests in between, before the lesser known, better films would play. Unless, of course, you took the long trip into the City. In case you don't catch the drift by now, we were both movie freaks. I guess you could say we still are.

By a simple stroke of fate, I happened to see the ad for the show. We had been waiting for some time for this particular flick to come to our regular theatre. Normally, we both know what's coming weeks in advance and never paid much attention to the movie ads. Anyway, it caught my eye that day, a one-time only screening for that night. We both scrapped our plans for the evening and off we went.

We didn't arrive until late, just a few minutes before show time. I found a parking place right in front. Cars were lining the street except in that one spot. I couldn't pass up the wise crack that they must have known we were coming and saved the spot for us. Like, we have arrived, they could start the show now.

We walked in, hands full of popcorn and soda, only to find the place empty. Not a seat in the house was taken and we had our pick. Naturally, we chose the prime seats. Middle center, about three-quarters of the way down, if you please. Far enough away that you didn't have to move your head to catch all the action and close enough that anyone sitting in front of you couldn't block half the screen with their fat head. And we waited.

I really didn't expect them to show the film to just us. Not real cost-effective, you know. But, right on time, the house lights dimmed and we both scrunched down in our seats getting into that perfect position that meant comfort without putting your body to sleep. That's when the applause started. I thought at first that it was the most amazing sound system ever devised. It started with a single clap down front and spread throughout the theatre, sounding like it was right next to me. No wonder the movie made such a hit at first. What I couldn't figure is why enthusiasm for it had died so quickly. Rave reviews one time, then nothing.

The movie got under way and the credits had me baffled. I didn't recognize one name through any of it. Now this may be a cult film, an unknown one at that, but I still should have recognized a name or two.

The last credit line rolled onto the screen with a fanfare of blazing trumpets so realistic I imagined I could see the misty orchestra on stage. With the fanfare, the words, "STARRING FOR THE FIRST TIME ANYWHERE", rolled across the screen. It was exciting, with the music swelling to a fevered pitch, until we thought the old walls would begin to crumble any second. As the music reached a crescendo, there on the screen in huge blazing letters . . . were our names, "JIM AND CARLA PRENSKI."

We've been in that movie ever since. Waiting our turn at the top of the starring list. We've been watching the credits and those names at the top get replaced in turn by those below. Ours are coming up soon. We don't know where the people connected with the names go, it must be better than this constant playing the same part over and over again, our minds and bodies tied to the continuous plot.

Sometimes we get a vague view of the seats, as if through a mist, never quite clear what's on the other side of the barrier. And every now and then, we catch a glimpse of those around us. Sometimes they appear human, others not. It's all so vague we are never sure. But, anything, anywhere . . . anywhen has got to be better than being stuck here on the inside.

Doesn't it?
 

Glenn A. Smith, copyright 1985.   Pub. Forthcoming, Vol 26 Spring 1985, ETSU Commerce, TX