The Doorway man
By Craig McArthur
The Tuesday following August Bank
holiday weekend I’d started a new
job with a local electrical firm at the
Cannon Cinema. As a child, this place
had given me the movie bug. I was
hooked then and I still am.
The building, built in 1937 had
entertained the locals until its closure
in 2004. Now after a decade, two local
lads had acquired the building.
Wearing my boiler suit, head torch and a dust mask I was told to go to the third floor and
strip out the old cables.
Once up the stairs, there were a couple of windows covered in decade’s worth of cobwebs
and giving a view over Freeman Street. I pondered how the view had changed over seventy years.
I imagined the old tramway system and the street bustling with shoppers, a far cry from the present
day. Suddenly, I was distracted by a mechanical noise emanating from an adjacent room. But
how could this be when all of the power had been off since the basement flooded? I needed to
investigate and so wandered through an old workshop strewn with electric cables half ripped out,
old film reels and cases before passing through a door into Projector Room 3. I knew this as it said
so on the door. Looking around I suddenly felt a shudder as though somebody had passed through
me.
Located in front of the projection window was the projector, left to rot. It was heart-breaking
to see. I went to touch it as you would a sick animal, in order to comfort it.
In the corner of my eye, I noticed a flickering light bouncing off the projection window glass.
Peering through, into Screen 3, I was startled to see an old black and white movie being screened!
I turned to face the projector to locate the off switch only to find it wasn’t even on. How
could it be, the building was powerless! Unnerved I decided to leave, but as I headed toward the
door something fell to the floor. Shining the torch, I spotted a name badge belonging to a former
staff member. It displayed the name ‘John’. I wondered what his job was.
Turning toward the door I was confronted by a short man, balding on top of his head and
wearing a faded suede jacket. I saw his name badge - John!
Startled I asked, ‘Who are you?’
‘I work here, well, on the doors actually’ he replied.
My torch flickered. Without a trace John vanished. I left the room to see where he’d
gone, but to no avail. Continuing down the corridor I passed through another doorway only to
find myself in the auditorium for Screen 2. Thinking it best, I proceeded down the stairs toward
the public exit, knowing that route better than the last. Peering back, as you do when you think
you are being followed, I again saw John, now in the doorway at the top of the stairs. I decided to
quick-step it toward the main foyer. Once in the corridor I coul