This is from another thread, if it’s true it’s really chilling !;
Years ago, I worked as an assistant manager in a cinema. It was one of those old places which had originally been a huge, single-screen cinema built in the 1930's and had been subdivided into several, smaller auditoria over the years. I had worked there for about two years before being promoted to a manager, and about a year into that job this happened.
One quiet Sunday night at about 9.30pm all the last films were on and I was cashing up. The only employees in the building were myself, the projectionist and three floor staff. The other projectionist had finished at 9. We all had walkie-talkies and I heard one of the floor staff trying to contact the projectionist. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I asked her what was wrong and she replied that the film had stopped in one of the screens. I tried to contact the projectionist myself and had no luck, so locked the cash room and went looking for him.
I headed for the projection room of the auditorium where the film had stopped - it was locked; this was usual as the projection rooms had to be locked when they were unmanned. So I went into the auditorium and made a standard announcement to the customers apologising for the interruption and including the lie that "our technical team are working hard to fix the problem" (!)
So I went on the hunt for the projectionist. There was an alarm system that should have alerted him that there was a broken-down film so I was now wondering why he wasn't there to sort it out. I went up to the main projection room which had been the original one when it was a single-screen cinema. They had their office and staffroom up there and it was where they would hang out most of the time. No joy there either - all locked up. I knew that there was a set of keys to the projection rooms in the office but we never really had to use them.
I went to the fire exit where the staff would go for a smoke on their break - no sign of him there either. I walked through the rest of the cinema trying to get into the other projection rooms - all the time calling his name on the radio. I found one which was unlocked which meant he should have been in there. The fire regulations meant that there had to be two fire-resistant doors between a projection room and a public area, and this was the case. There were two doors, both opening towards you, with a very small vestibule in-between. There were circular windows in both doors. When I went in the first door, as it closed behind me and I reached out to open the second, I swear on my family's life I saw a figure in the reflection behind me of a short elderly man with luminous green eyes and teeth. I shrieked, pulled open the next door and ran into the projection room. There was the projectionist, lying slouched at a bench, having just committed suicide. In a rather unpleasant way, too. The film was still running there but the film alarm system was ringing for the screen that had broken down.
I shrieked again and ran out. I knew by the nature of his suicide that there was no purpose in trying to save him. I ran all the way back to the foyer where the floor staff were, shouting into the radio all the time "call a f*ing ambulance!" (We didn't have mobile phones back then - and I'd trained staff to never, ever swear over the radios in case it was overheard by customers.) Even though, to quote the film "Se7en", a hearse would have been more appropriate than an ambulance.
When I got to the foyer, the staff were still flicking through magazines and chewing gum. I kind of collapsed when I saw them and only then did one of them call 999. The police were the first to turn up, then the ambulances. When the police arrived and I'd told them what had happened, they evacuated the building using the cinema's emergency PA system. It was weird seeing all these people being ushered out - blissfully unaware of what had been going on behind the scenes. And some were hassling the police for their money back, for not seeing the end of their films!
Obviously everyone on duty had to give statements to the police and the primitive CCTV tapes were taken away, even though they didn't include images of the inside of the projection room.
The creepiest part of all this is that the guy had made hand-written invitations to his funeral to his family, friends and colleagues - including me. They were neatly piled in envelopes beside his body in that room where he'd ended his life.
Needless to say, that was my last official shift in that place.
I did actually go the funeral - and I'm glad I did because I got to learn more about his background and why he'd taken such a drastic course of action.
That building closed not long after. Not as a result of this incident, but because multiplexes were taking over. It's still there, boarded up and awaiting the bulldozers no doubt. It's on my route to work but I still, to this day, take a diversion to avoid passing it.