From Ballet To Screen Test

 

Raena Marie

The old opera house loomed at the edge of town, its towering silhouette casting long shadows under the moonlight. Its grand chandelier hadn’t sparkled in decades, and dust coated the seats like a forgotten snow. But locals whispered about the faint sound of music that drifted from the building at night—the eerie, unmistakable melodies of The Nutcracker Suite.For Clara, a young ballerina with dreams of greatness, the stories felt like a dare. The opera house had once hosted a legendary production of The Nutcracker, led by the brilliant prima ballerina Elise, who vanished during opening night. Some said she ran away, others claimed she had been swallowed by the stage itself. No one really knew the truth, but Clara found herself irresistibly drawn to the mystery.One chilly evening, Clara couldn’t resist any longer. She snuck through the opera house’s heavy doors, her flashlight barely cutting through the gloom. The air was cold and stale, and the sound of her footsteps echoed eerily through the vast, empty space. As she climbed onto the stage, her breath caught. Even in its decay, the space felt alive, like it was holding its breath, waiting.The mirrors that lined the back wall were cracked and dusty, but Clara could still see the faint outline of her reflection as she stretched. She imagined herself as the Sugar Plum Fairy, twirling under the spotlight. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.And then it happened.A single note pierced the silence, followed by another. Soft, delicate—the unmistakable tune of the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.” Clara froze. Her flashlight flickered. She hadn’t brought any music, and there was no orchestra. The melody grew louder, filling the room with an otherworldly elegance. Against her better judgment, Clara felt her body move to the music, her feet gliding across the stage. She wasn’t sure if she was dancing… or if something was making her dance.Her movements became more fluid, almost too perfect. The music swirled around her like a spell. She felt exhilarated and uneasy all at once. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught something in the mirror. Clara was no longer alone.There, shimmering like a ghostly light, was another dancer. Elise. Her costume sparkled as if it were brand new, but her face was pale, her eyes dark and unreadable. She moved in perfect harmony with Clara, their steps synchronized like a duet. Clara tried to stop, but her legs kept moving, as if the music had a mind of its own.“Elise?” Clara whispered, her voice shaking. The figure in the mirror didn’t answer, but her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. Suddenly, the music shifted, growing faster, darker. Clara’s heart pounded in her chest as the melody became almost frantic. The chandelier above rattled, and the curtains rustled, though there was no breeze. The entire opera house felt alive.“Elise!” Clara shouted again, her voice cracking. In the mirror, Elise stopped dancing. Her movements became jerky, unnatural. Her head tilted at an odd angle as her hollow eyes locked with Clara’s. The music swelled to a crescendo, and Clara felt a chill race down her spine as Elise slowly raised her hand, pointing directly at her.“Why… are you still here?” Clara whispered, trembling.The lights in the opera house suddenly flickered, and the music stopped as abruptly as it started. Clara stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the stage. When she looked back at the mirror, Elise was gone. The only reflection staring back was her own—but something was different. Her face looked pale, almost ghostly, and her eyes… they didn’t feel like her own.Grabbing her flashlight, Clara fled the opera house, the sound of faint giggling following her into the night.

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That evening, Clara couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. The faint melody of The Nutcracker Suite played in her mind, and her reflection in her bedroom mirror seemed to linger a moment too long before moving. When she performed at her next recital, the audience was mesmerized. Her movements were flawless, almost too perfect, and some said they saw a flicker of another figure dancing beside her in the shadows.Clara never returned to the opera house, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that Elise hadn’t finished her story. And every time she stood in front of a mirror, she wondered if she’d see her again.Do you believe in ghosts? Clara didn’t… but now, she’s not so sur..

Christian  Coppola

The small, coastal town of Sønderstrand was known for its quiet streets and endless gray skies. But there was one house that no one dared to approach. Perched on a cliff overlooking the sea, the house was a relic of another time—its windows dark, its walls weathered by decades of storms. Locals called it "The Watcher’s House," though no one could agree on who—or what—was watching.Mia, a curious teenager with a love for old films, had heard the stories her whole life. They said the house had once belonged to a reclusive Danish filmmaker, a man obsessed with creating a trilogy of films so disturbing that they were never released. Legend had it that the final film was never completed because the director vanished during production. Some said he had gone mad; others whispered that the house had taken him.One rainy afternoon, Mia decided to investigate. Armed with her camera and a flashlight, she climbed the winding path to the house. The air grew colder as she approached, and the sound of the crashing waves below seemed to grow louder, as if warning her to turn back. But Mia was determined. She pushed open the creaking door and stepped inside.The interior was frozen in time. Dust-covered film reels were stacked in the corners, and faded storyboards lined the walls. In the center of the room stood an old projector, its lens cracked but still intact. Mia’s heart raced as she approached it. On the table beside the projector was a single film canister labeled The Final Scene.Unable to resist, Mia loaded the film into the projector and turned it on. The machine whirred to life, casting flickering light onto the cracked wall. The film began with a shot of the house itself, its windows glowing faintly in the night. The camera moved inside, down the same hallway Mia had just walked through. She felt a chill as she realized the film was mirroring her exact steps.The screen showed a figure—a young woman—standing in the room where Mia now stood. The woman’s back was to the camera, her head tilted as if listening to something. Slowly, she turned, and Mia gasped. The woman looked exactly like her.The film continued, showing the doppelgänger exploring the house. But as the scenes unfolded, the house in the film began to change. The walls seemed to close in, the shadows growing darker and more alive. The doppelgänger’s expression shifted from curiosity to fear as she realized she was no longer alone. Shapes moved in the corners of the frame—indistinct, but undeniably human. They seemed to be watching her, their faces obscured by shadows.Mia’s flashlight flickered, and she felt a sudden, oppressive weight in the air. She turned to look behind her, but the room was empty. When she looked back at the screen, the doppelgänger was staring directly at the camera, her eyes wide with terror. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The screen went black.The projector stopped abruptly, plunging the room into silence. Mia’s breath came in short gasps as she tried to process what she had just seen. Then, she heard it—a faint whisper, coming from the hallway. It was her own voice, calling her name.“Mia…”She froze, her flashlight trembling in her hand. The whisper came again, louder this time, and closer. She turned toward the hallway, her heart pounding. The shadows seemed to shift and stretch, forming shapes that moved toward her. She stumbled backward, her foot catching on the edge of the projector. The machine toppled to the floor, shattering the lens.The whispers stopped.Mia bolted from the house, the rain soaking her as she ran down the cliffside path. She didn’t stop until she reached her home, slamming the door behind her. But when she looked at her reflection...

Photo Credit Etsy HysteriaMachine - UK based designers of home decor

The Nutcracker