NOVEL NEXT Chapter 66: Chapter 66
A soft click echoed in the stillness.
The bedroom door creaked open, revealing a crack through which faint light illuminated the boy's pale, haggard face.
He glanced around warily before darting out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.
At that moment, Martin's composed score began to play. The haunting melody, crafted by the virtuoso behind the Daredevils soundtrack, seeped into the atmosphere, pulling the audience into an almost tangible fear.
The cinema was utterly silent.
Suddenly, something flickered behind the boy.
Swish!
Startled, the boy whipped his head around. The audience mirrored his reaction, a collective thrill rippling through the theater.
"Damn it, why is this so terrifying?" someone muttered. "Scenes like this are common in horror movies. What's different here?"
James Cameron, observing the film with a director's precision, quickly identified the secret.
"It's Martin's eyes... and the soundtrack."
Intrigued, he turned to glance at Martin, recalling the widespread acclaim of Martin's genius. Experiencing it firsthand left him even more astounded.
The boy cautiously stepped out of the bathroom, his gaze fixed on the kitchen at the end of the corridor.
The kitchen door was closed, but light spilled out from the gap below. Faint, soft sounds emanated from within.
Confusion mixed with unease on the boy's face. He clutched his pajamas tightly, seeking comfort. After a moment of hesitation, he decided to investigate.
Step by careful step, he approached the kitchen door. The sounds grew clearer—someone cooking breakfast? But why would his mother be cooking at this hour?
Reaching the door, he paused, gathering his courage. Slowly, he pushed it open.
A woman in pink cotton pajamas stood with her back to him.
Everything appeared normal.
"Mom?" he called hesitantly.
The woman spun around abruptly, her face contorted into a grotesque snarl.
"NO! The meal isn't ready yet, Lanny!" she shrieked.
Her face bore dark bruises, one on each cheek. Coupled with her wild, frenzied expression, the sight was chilling.
Martin's ominous soundtrack swelled, startling the audience.
"God, my heart!" Tom Cruise muttered, trembling. He glanced around to ensure no one had noticed, but Nicole Kidman, sitting beside him, had. Understanding his pride, she pretended otherwise.
She, too, had been scared, clutching her seat as a pang of remembered helplessness overwhelmed her.
On-screen, the woman roared, her voice piercing. She lunged forward, revealing deep, blood-red gashes on her wrists.
"No! You won't hurt me anymore, Lanny! It's all your fault I ended up like this!"
The boy turned and fled.
Behind him, the woman's furious screams echoed as he dashed into the bedroom, diving into a red tent filled with Virgin and Child statues. Inside, he wept quietly, suppressing his sobs out of fear.
Martin's masterful portrayal of despair and vulnerability radiated from the screen, gripping the audience.
Nicole gripped her armrest tightly, the veins on her pale skin standing out. Memories of her own loss flooded back—she, too, had felt so powerless once.
Tom Cruise watched in awe, tinged with envy. "This kid's acting is incredible," he admitted silently.
Inside the tent, the boy turned on a flashlight. Its beam illuminated the statues, casting shadows on the crimson fabric. He knelt, clasping his hands, his tear-filled blue eyes reflecting anguish. As tears streamed down his face, his gaze grew hollow, devoid of life.
James Cameron glanced again at Martin, overwhelmed by the boy's performance.
"This child surpasses many seasoned actors. If the opportunity arises, I'd love to collaborate with him," he mused.
The scene shifted to a school corridor.
"Cole!"
Bruce Willis's character crouched beside the boy in a purple school uniform.
"I don't see anything," he said, puzzled.
Cole trembled, his head bowed, murmuring, "No... they're right there."
As his trembling voice filled the air, he raised his head, revealing a close-up of his terrified blue eyes. His gaze, brimming with fear and longing for understanding, seemed to pierce through the screen.
He pointed behind Bruce, his voice barely audible.
"Don't move. Sometimes it feels like falling into an abyss, even when you're perfectly still."
Though the line didn't explicitly mention anything behind Bruce, the fear in Cole's voice, the terror in his eyes, and the eerie soundtrack unsettled the audience.
A collective chill ran through the theater. Many turned to glance over their shoulders, unable to shake the feeling that something lurked behind them.
Kevin Thomas, a Los Angeles Times film critic, jotted a quick note:
"This performance is legendary—an immortal moment in cinematic history."
As the film neared its end, the oppressive atmosphere lifted. A tender scene between Cole and his mother unfolded, accompanied by a warm, soothing score.
Critics began forming their conclusions.
"The ending balances the film's darkness, offering hope and reconciliation."
"Martin and Toni Collette's performances elevate the film to greatness."
Even James Cameron nodded in approval, appreciating the heartfelt resolution.
But sitting beside him, Shyamalan smiled knowingly.
"Prepare to be amazed," he thought.
The screen shifted unexpectedly.
Dr. Malcolm returned home, finding his wife asleep on the couch as their wedding video played.
"Why did you leave me?" she murmured in her sleep, her voice filled with sorrow.
As he approached her, the boy's earlier voiceover echoed:
"Sometimes, the dead don't know they're dead. They move around like normal, and you can feel it—a sudden chill in the air."
The room seemed colder as the camera panned to reveal Dr. Malcolm's wedding ring rolling from his wife's grasp.
Realization dawned.
Dr. Malcolm had died at the film's start—he was the ghost.
The theater collectively gasped.
As the credits rolled, applause erupted, lasting long after the lights came on.
[•———•——•———•]
𝙥𝗮𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣(.)𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙊𝙛𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
✨ • 𝗘𝘅𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀: 𝙂𝙚𝙩 𝟲𝟬+ 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚.