The Curtain That Closed Itself

April 10, 2026

by Omer

3 min read

Story Premise 3 min read (437 words)

"At Northridge Middle School, there were stories about a girl named Mara who had died in the auditorium. No one knew exactly how it happened—some said she fell from the catwalk, others whispered about a fire, but most dismissed it as a playground myth. I never believed it. Until one day, when my friends Chloe, […]"

At Northridge Middle School, there were stories about a girl named Mara who had died in the auditorium. No one knew exactly how it happened—some said she fell from the catwalk, others whispered about a fire, but most dismissed it as a playground myth. I never believed it. Until one day, when my friends Chloe, Priya, and I decided to practice our trio performance on the stage during the free period.

We were excited about the school talent show, and the auditorium was the only place with a real stage. As we stood under the warm glow of the work lights, we felt like stars. Priya suggested we close the heavy velvet curtains to create a more intimate setting, so no one could watch us from the seats. Chloe walked over to the side rope, but before she even touched it, the curtain began to slide slowly, as if something invisible was pulling it. We froze, watching the thick fabric move inch by inch.

“Maybe it’s a draft?” I whispered, but we all knew there were no windows open. Then, without warning, the colored stage lights flickered on and off in erratic patterns, casting eerie shadows across the floor. We were too terrified to run. “The legend of Mara… it’s real,” Chloe breathed, her voice trembling. We scrambled toward the back of the stage, where a pile of large gym mats leaned against the wall, and hid behind them, huddled together.

The lights went out completely, plunging us into darkness. We held our breath, our hearts pounding. After a moment, we dared to peek out from behind the mats. The curtains were now fully closed, sealing us in. We crept out, our nerves frayed. Chloe was on the verge of tears, Priya was hyperventilating, and I clung to both of them as if my life depended on it.

Then, we saw it. One of the heavy mats, which had been resting against the wall, began to slide across the floor toward us, as if pushed by an unseen force. But it wasn’t sliding—it was “falling,” just like the curtain had moved. It stopped inches from our feet, and in that moment, we knew Mara was there. We finally screamed, our voices echoing in the empty auditorium, and we ran.

We never spoke about what happened that day, but whenever I walk past the stage, I feel icy cold and hear a soft whisper that sounds like “get off my stage.” I used to think ghost stories were just stories. Now I know they’re real. And Mara, whoever she was, doesn’t want us to forget her.

Related Horror Movies to Watch

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Chô shôjo Reiko

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