Transport Me: A Flash Fiction Story

Transport Me

A Flash Fiction Story

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My movie theater always requires a walk to the door. The icy rain is running down my neck, it causes a chill and my speed to pick up, all to get to the heat within the door. Grabbing the wet handle I rush into the warm air; I am hit with the smell of stale popcorn and sugar, it is strong enough I almost taste it. 

The silence of the winter now lost to the noise of people who didn't want to spend their weekend at home. I look around and see a bunch of kids, many crying, and groan. I hand over my money for my ticket and quickly buy a bottle of water and rush to the theater to avoid the noisy children. 

The floor is always sticky with slushies and popcorn, and I can hear how my foot sticks to the ground. I feel a shudder go through me. Why can’t they for once clean these theaters? But I promised a friend I would come see this movie with them. 

I spot them quickly. Their smile hurts my eyes. They are so happy to see me. I quickly sit in the leather seat and they push a button to put my seat up. I hear them speaking, but the words are lost as the lighting is dimmed and the sound of the first trailer hurts my ear drums. But accept the handful of popcorn; it is stale upon my tongue, the flavor is but that of wet paper, it is covered with greasy butter and biting salt, to hide the fact it is stale, but I eat it, nonetheless, for them.  

When the movie starts I am transported from the sticky, smelly, stale, cold, wet, and crowded with screaming kids, theater and enter the world of hero.  

I can almost taste the food he is eating, smell it cooking, hear the pin drop in the background of his location, see him almost in 360 degree vision, it is like I can reach out and touch him.

With the movie, I remember why I brave the sticky, smelly, stale, cold, wet, and crowded with screaming kids, theater. 

When the movie ends and the credits roll I come back to reality. The water I had bought warm, the popcorn now soggy in and the butter and grease can be seen destroying the bucket, the floor now a stickier mess as we stand to leave, the ripping of our soles from the floor as we walk echo as we just watch the people rush back out into the cold icy weather. They are all in a hurry now to get home. The warmth of the heater is beating down upon us, if possible the sounds and smells stronger than before, the salt and butter of the stale popcorn still on our tongue, even after we have finished our drinks, and we just look up at the board to see when another movie plays. 

We look outside and see the icy rain has turned into snow; we shiver in thought of how that would feel across our skins as we tried to cross the huge parking lot. We smile and buy another ticket. After all, through all the faults of a movie theater, there is nothing quite like a good movie to transport you into another world.