Oh shit, you know what I just realized?

I won’t be writing this blog come Halloween, because my 365 days will be over on my 27th birthday, October 17.*

You know what that means?

I don’t have to save scary stories to be seasonal! WA-HA! Fun!

SIDENOTE: Not like there’s ever been much rhyme or reason to when I post what I post…

ANOTHER SIDENOTE: It’s weird to think of this blog being over. It’s exciting and sad at the same time.

Okay. So remember how I worked at a theatre for like, five years? I’ve totally mentioned it before, this post probably being the most entertaining, though if you want to relive my glamorous acting days that took place in the very same theatre, read this one, too.

The theatre I worked at is totally haunted.

There are multiple presences in the building. In general, I would say that there are the following people around:

  1. A male presence in the box office and stairwell area
  2. A female presence in the lobby and ladies washroom
  3. A (different) male presence in the auditorium

I have stories about all of these. Little things, for example, like hearing high heels walking through the lobby and going into the washroom, only to find the lights completely out and nobody in the building but yourself.

Eerie.

SIDENOTE: Eerie, but also oddly easy to get used to. Just like the presence in the box office who would constantly rustle stuff around at night at the back of the office.

“Can you stop it? You’re freaking me out.” I got accustomed to saying out loud.

And he always respected my wishes.

Anyway, ironically, the story I’m about to tell goes against the list I just presented you with. But rather than elaborate, I’ll just tell the damn story.

It was my very first year actually working at the theatre. You see, I started out as a volunteer (I’m a good Samaritan!)/festival participant and actor (see the above link about my fabulous acting career)/fangirl (I was REALLY obsessed with this musical written by William S. Burroughs, Robert Wilson, and Tom Waits called The Black Rider. In total, I saw it seven times. Shut up. Did you just read who wrote this thing? PERFECTION.)

I was still pretty new to the whole “opening up the theatre in the morning” routine, but being a very hard worker and a generally responsible human being (see: 18 going on 40), I had a pretty good handle on it. At the time, we were about halfway through the annual emerging artists’ festival the theatre hosts, so I was getting into the groove of setting up every day.

I unlocked the theatre, got into the lobby, and disarmed the alarm. Normal.

Then I walked through the darkened lobby and into the box office, where I turned on all of the lights. Normal.

After putting down my bag and turning on the box office computer, I stepped out into the lobby to start turning on the rest of the lights. I flipped the switches for the lobby itself, then made my way around the concession counter toward the ladies washroom.

Now, as I mentioned, there’s a female presence in the lobby of the theatre. And often, the sound of high heels goes from the front door into the washroom, then stops. Connected to this (in my mind, anyway), is the fact that when you step into the washroom to turn on the lights, it always feels like when you do turn them on, there will be someone standing RIGHT THERE in the mirrors.

So I made a habit of just reaching my arm into the washroom to turn on the lights, keeping my head outside of the washroom and my eyes firmly shut and/or averted from the mirrors.

SIDENOTE: I guess I never thought too much about what if I reached in and FELT SOMETHING THERE?

On this particular day, I guess I was feeling somewhat brave (or maybe I was just still too new to know any better) because I stepped into the darkened washroom and flicked on the lights.

And then I jumped, startled.

SIDENOTE: Are you freaked out?!

Not because there was anything in the mirrors (just me), but because I heard very loud laughter and muffled conversation between two females coming from behind the closed auditorium doors.

I froze.

What the fuck?

Now, at the time, the two people running the technical side of the festival were women – Tammy and Gina – so my first thought was, “Oh! Tammy and Gina are here already! Awesome!”

SIDENOTE: Tammy and Gina are The Shit (in the good way) so heck yeah I was excited to see them.

I guess I didn’t stop to think about the fact that when I got to the theatre, the security system was armed. I guess disarming the alarm had already become such a habit that it didn’t even occur to me.

I left the ladies washroom and skipped the six or so feet toward one set of the auditorium doors. Excited to see my friends, I grabbed hold of both handles, yanked the double doors open, and rushed into the auditorium.

“HEY LADIES…”

And then my breath literally stopped in my lungs and everything felt cold.

The auditorium doors started to close behind me, the light vanishing, leaving me in PITCH BLACK.

Because there was nobody in there. The ghost light wasn’t even on. As soon as I opened the doors to walk in, the laughter and chatter I heard fell silent.

wide-ghost-light

I panicked and ran directly into the doors, throwing them open and getting the fuck out of the auditorium. I stumbled through the lobby into the box office, sat down at my desk, and didn’t move until my friend and manager Muffy showed up about an hour later.

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Lesson Learned: The Roxy Theatre in Edmonton, y’all. Totally haunted.

xA

P.S. I have one more super cool story about this theatre, so let’s call this PART I of me learning this lesson, okay? Okay.

*SAVE THE DATE AND BUY ME PRESENTS.**

**Who said that?!

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