Storytelling Saturdays: The Grinning Man

Tasha had already decided this was a date. Malik just didn’t know it yet.

They had gone to plenty of movies before, always “as friends.” But tonight felt different. Maybe it was the way he called her “Tash” like it meant something. Maybe it was the way he offered his hoodie without asking, knowing she always got cold halfway through. Or maybe it was because he smelled like cocoa butter and hope.

Either way, she wasn’t about to ruin it by being the first one to say it was a date.

The previews ended. The theater dimmed. The Grinning Man began.

Malik leaned close. “If this man runs upstairs instead of out the front door, I’m walking out.”

“You ain’t walking nowhere,” Tasha whispered. “You paid thirty dollars for these tickets and that popcorn’s nonrefundable.”

He grinned, white teeth glinting in the flickering light. “So you admitting this is a date then?”

She side-eyed him. “You paying, ain’t you?”

He chuckled. “That don’t answer the question.”

The screen crackled with thunder. A girl in the movie screamed. Half the theater screamed with her. Malik jumped, spilling a few kernels. Tasha smirked and leaned in. “So big and scared of fake blood. Shame.”

“Whatever. I’m just watching for plot development.”

“Sure. You flinched like the popcorn was haunted.”

They laughed softly, their shoulders touching. The movie rolled on with the usual creepy house, flickering lights, and distant footsteps. It was all predictable until the lights in their theater flickered too.

At first, Tasha thought it was part of the movie. But the sound dipped, and for a breathless second, the screen froze on an image of a smiling man. His eyes were stretched wide, his grin carved too deep.

Then the picture warped. The man’s head turned, not toward the characters, but toward the audience.

Someone in the back yelled, “Ain’t no way that’s Dolby Vision!”

The lights blinked again. The image shifted to a wide shot of the movie’s characters sitting in a theater, just like theirs, watching The Grinning Man.

“See?” Tasha whispered. “That’s what happens when y’all mess with bootleg portals.”

Malik smirked, trying to play it cool. “Probably some viral marketing thing.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna explain how that dude on screen wearing the same hoodie as you?”

He looked up. The man in the movie theater, the one sitting next to a woman just like Tasha, was wearing Malik’s exact outfit. The gray hoodie, the gold chain, the lopsided grin.

Malik froze. “Nah, that’s just a coincidence.”

Tasha leaned in, whispering like she didn’t believe a word. “Coincidence my behind. You better tell your movie twin to stop copyin’ me before I sue.”

On-screen Malik blinked. The camera zoomed in on him, then panned to the woman beside him. Her eyes were wide, her mouth trembling.

Tasha’s laughter faltered. The woman looked exactly like her.

For a long, tense second, the real Malik and Tasha just stared at the screen.

“Okay,” he said, voice lower now. “That’s actually creepy.”

“No,” she whispered, “this is creepy.” She pointed. “That girl just looked at the camera. And I swear she mouthed my name.”

The screen cut to black.

The whole theater went silent.

A child whimpered. Someone’s phone flashlight clicked on. Malik reached over, hesitated, then took Tasha’s hand. She didn’t pull away.

“Alright,” he said, forcing a laugh. “We still good. Power probably tripped.”

“You keep sayin’ that like the boogeyman gonna respect your optimism.”

The emergency lights flickered back to life. The screen stayed dark.

Then there was a faint static hum. The projector sputtered on, showing a live feed of the real audience. Row after row of confused faces.

Tasha saw herself on the screen. Malik saw himself too. Then, behind their on-screen doubles, a tall shadow rose.

“Malik.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t move.”

“Why not?”

“Because whatever’s on that screen just smiled at us.”

The shadow leaned closer to the camera until the grin filled the entire screen, jagged teeth gleaming like broken glass. The lights went out again.

The theater erupted in chaos. People shouted, stumbled over seats, and dropped their phones. Malik squeezed her hand tight and whispered, “Okay, if we die, this counts as a real date.”

Tasha couldn’t help it. She laughed, half terrified, half in love. “You stupid.”

“I’m stupid, but I’m yours if we make it out.”

The projector flashed one last time. On-screen, their doubles kissed, right before the Grinning Man appeared behind them, smiling at the camera.

And somewhere in the dark, just behind Row D, someone laughed in the same exact tone as Malik.

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