The seven guests noticed the café was packed with students. One of them, Alden Kennedy from Summit Pictures' indie horror acquisition division, sipped his coffee and remarked, "This place is pretty popular with the kids, huh?"
Maxwell Moore from Worldwide Pictures' low-budget genre department nodded, raising his eyebrows. "I've been here before for your last screening, Nathan. It wasn't nearly this busy."
"Yeah, definitely something different going on today," Jefferson, an independent investor and old friend, agreed.
Nathan didn't know how to explain without embarrassing himself. He cleared his throat and steadied himself with a sip of coffee. "Uh, actually, those students are from my son's high school. They're here for the private screening too."
The seven exchanged glances. No one quite knew what to say.
Nathan panicked internally. "I hope you guys don't mind." He quickly added, "If it's a problem, I can tell them to go home so they don't—"
"It's fine by me," Alden said, waving it off with a smile. "Doesn't bother me at all. Actually, having other people watching makes it feel more like a theater experience instead of just a private screening."
"Yeah, I'm cool with it too," the others agreed without much fuss.
Nathan exhaled in relief. Only seven people had shown up for this screening. He'd sent out the pitch to dozens of contacts—ultra-low-budget horror, under fifteen grand, minimal cast and crew. Most had ignored him completely.
These seven had responded, though he knew it wasn't about him personally. Alden and Maxwell were junior scouts who had to check out every micro-budget horror project that crossed their desks—their studios made money acquiring cheap genre films for pennies and flipping them for profit.
The others were small-time indie distributors and investors who specialized in low-risk horror acquisitions.
If Nathan had directed this himself, he might've gotten a slightly better turnout from old colleagues taking pity on him. But for his son's film? These were the only people willing to show up—and only because "horror under $15K" was worth a look. At that budget, even if it was garbage, there was minimal risk.
He couldn't afford to make any of them uncomfortable. They were his only shot.
"Anyway, I heard this movie was made entirely by your son. Is that actually true?" Maxwell asked.
"Yep. Entirely his project," Nathan said with genuine pride. "Honestly, the film he put together surprised even me. It's really entertaining. Trust me, it'll be worth your time."
They nodded politely. But their thoughts told a different story.
Alden was thinking: 'God, I just want to get this over with. Please don't let this thing be three hours long.' This was his fourth screening this week. He felt unlucky that the studio made him cover every single micro-budget horror pitch in the Greater LA area.
Maxwell was already planning his escape: 'I'll watch for thirty minutes, then make up some excuse about not connecting with it and leave.' He had two more screenings tomorrow. This "high school kid's first movie" was probably going to be a waste of time, but he had to check the box that he'd attended.
The other indie distributors were thinking along the same lines—except for Jefferson. He had a genuine friendship with Nathan from the old days and was actually considering putting some money into marketing or distribution if the film was halfway decent.
"This is my son, Marcus," Nathan said, trying to project confidence as he introduced him.
The seven smiled warmly and greeted Marcus with polite enthusiasm, even though most were already mentally checking out.
"Nice to meet you! You look just like Nathan did when he was younger!"
"Haha, very handsome kid."
Marcus smiled as he made small talk with them, though he could tell most of them were just going through the motions. They weren't here for him or his dad—they were here because their jobs required them to sit through every ultra-cheap horror pitch that came across their desks. At fifteen grand, even a bad movie could turn a profit with the right release strategy.
After finishing their coffee, they headed inside the studio for the screening. The students, under the watchful eyes of Katherine and Principal Green, filed into the viewing room.
The room was small—typical for Nathan's studio—but comfortable enough for everyone to watch without being cramped.
'Alright. Let's see what this movie's all about,' Alden thought, crossing his arms as he settled into his seat. He waited for the lights to dim and the projector to fire up.
Maxwell looked on with half-lidded eyes. 'How good can a high school kid's movie really be? I'm betting on terrible.'
The other industry folks were thinking along the same lines.
Jefferson, however, was genuinely curious. 'Does the son have his father's talent?' He knew how skilled Nathan had been back in the day. It was just a shame Nathan had let greed blind him, leading to his downfall.
While the adults sat there with their thoughts, the students were buzzing with excitement. Marcus sat between Arya and Ryan.
"I'm so excited for our first movie!" Arya whispered.
"Yeah, dude. My heart's pounding!" Ryan said, eyes wide.
Marcus just smiled faintly.
Soon, the room went dark. The projector whirred to life—it took the staff a moment to get everything set up, but it ran smoothly once it started.
The screen lit up, and everyone fell silent.
[We would like to thank the families of Michael Cole and Katherine Mills and the North Hollywood Police Department.]
Everyone read the text in silence.
That opening surprised even Katherine and Mike, who were sitting near each other. They exchanged confused glances. 'What the hell?' Mike mouthed.
The industry people perked up slightly.
'Why thank them? Are they implying this actually happened?' Alden rubbed his chin, mildly intrigued.
Jefferson felt a flicker of interest. 'Maybe Nathan wasn't exaggerating. This might actually be interesting.'
After the text faded, the movie officially began.
Everyone expected standard cinematography—professional camera work like any other film. Instead, what they got was footage from a cheap handheld camera.
The industry people weren't surprised, but they were already disappointed. 'This is gonna look like crap,' Maxwell thought.
The students, however, seemed more intrigued.
"Oh man, this is already creeping me out!" one guy whispered loudly.
"Shh! You wanna get kicked out? Shut up!" another student hissed.
Alden and the others caught that exchange. They didn't find the approach particularly captivating, but apparently the students did.
They kept watching.
At first, it was just... normal life. Mike's character showing off his new camera to Katherine. Her complaining about him filming everything. Mundane conversations about their day. Making dinner together.
It was surprisingly watchable—there was something compelling about watching other people's everyday lives unfold, even when nothing was happening. The actors had natural chemistry. They felt like a real couple.
Then came the first disturbance.
Mike and Katherine were in the kitchen. The camera sat propped on the counter, still recording their conversation.
Then—a sound. Not loud, but distinct enough to make them both stop mid-sentence.
"What is that?" Katherine's character asked.
"Let's investigate it," Mike said, picking up the camera.
The footage got shaky as he moved through the house. "We're hearing a weird sound. You hear it?"
They followed the sound to the kitchen. Mike pointed the camera toward the refrigerator.
"Is it the fridge?" Katherine asked nervously.
The mechanical clunk of ice dropping into the tray answered the question.
"It's the icemaker," Mike said, laughing with relief. "Damn it!"
They both laughed, but Katherine's laugh sounded strained.
It was just the ice maker. Nothing supernatural. Nothing dangerous.
But somehow, the audience didn't feel reassured. The way it was filmed—the shaky camera, the genuine nervousness in Katherine's voice, the darkness of the house—made even that mundane explanation feel unsettling.
Strangely, the low-quality footage made it more real. More convincing. Even the jaded industry folks felt a small chill. It was just an ice maker. But it didn't feel like just an ice maker.
In the theater, some students shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
The industry people—Alden, Maxwell, and the others—were far from impressed even if they'd felt a small chill. But they were getting curious about where this was headed.
There was genuine suspense building. Enough to keep them watching with interest.
Then came the first night. The camera was set up on a tripod in the bedroom, filming Mike and Katherine sleeping. A timestamp in the corner tracked the hours passing.
Then, at 2:17 AM, the bedroom door—which had been slightly ajar—slowly began to move. It creaked open a few more inches. Then stopped. Several seconds of silence. Then it slowly pulled itself closed.
It was just silence and subtle movement. But the students were already scared.
"Oh my God, hold me!" a girl whispered, clutching her friend's arm.
The paranormal activity gradually escalated from there. They brought in the psychic expert. Mike mocked him the whole time, which got some nervous laughs from the audience.
Maxwell had been planning his escape after thirty minutes, but he'd completely forgotten about it. He was too focused on the screen as the nights got more intense. Mike and Katherine woke up to a loud bang downstairs. They grabbed the camera and investigated—the chandelier in the living room was swinging wildly, even though all the windows and doors were closed.
"This is all you got!?" Mike's character shouted at the empty room, challenging whatever was haunting them.
"This idiot," Maxwell muttered, shaking his head.
Almost everyone in the theater was shaking their heads, clearly thinking Mike's character was making a terrible mistake.
The real Mike, sitting among them wearing a baseball cap, felt the heat. Fortunately, barely anyone recognized him.
From that moment on, the paranormal activity progressed into something unforgettable.
The nights grew worse. Strange sounds in the walls. Katie hearing whispers. The stationary bedroom camera capturing her standing motionless at the foot of the bed, staring at Micah for hours while he slept. Students gasped audibly at that one.
"Oh hell no," someone whispered in the back.
Then came the kitchen scene. Mike and Katherine investigating another noise in the middle of the night. Mike opened a cabinet—
Katherine screamed and jumped back.
The whole theater flinched.
It was just a mouse. But the way Katherine reacted—so genuine, so visceral—made everyone's hearts jump.
'Woah. That actually scared me too,' Alden thought, though he'd never admit it out loud.
'The buildup in this movie is incredible,' Jefferson thought, despite being genuinely unnerved himself.
The movie kept escalating. Footsteps in the hallway at night. A deep, guttural growl captured on the audio recorder. Mike spreading baby powder on the floor to capture footprints—and sure enough, at 3 AM, clawed footprints appeared, walking toward the bed.
"Nope. Nope, nope, nope," a student whispered.
The prints led to the attic door. When Mike climbed up to investigate, he found a photo of Katie as a child—a photo that was supposed to have burned in a house fire fifteen years ago.
"Oh shit," someone breathed.
Then the Ouija board. Mike brought one home despite Katie's protests. They left it on the coffee table—and when they returned from being out, the footage showed the planchette moving on its own, spelling something out before the board suddenly burst into flames.
Several students actually jumped in their seats.
Alden, Maxwell, Jefferson, and the others—had been genuinely scared for over an hour now. They'd barely noticed the time passing.
Maxwell glanced at his watch. 'When did that happen?'