The old reel was dusty, tucked deep in the basement of a forgotten film archive. No one had touched it for years. It was labeled in faded ink: The Last Days of Cathy Gale. The name stirred something in Henry's memory. He was the type of man who lived for forgotten stories, unsolved mysteries, and the obscure corners of cinema history. He remembered the whispers about the missing film—a horror so potent that the director had buried it, claiming the footage was too dangerous to be seen by human eyes.
He found the film by accident. It was supposed to be lost forever, locked away after a tragic on-set accident that had taken Cathy Gale, the lead actress, in the final days of shooting. The film never saw the light of day. No one knew what happened to the negatives, but now it was here, in his hands.
Henry’s pulse quickened as he slid the film reel into the projector, dimming the lights in the archive’s small screening room. The projector hummed to life, throwing the first jittery frame onto the screen. At first, it was ordinary—a typical low-budget 70s horror film. Cathy Gale was playing a woman trapped in a haunted house, running from shadows, pursued by some unseen terror.
But something wasn’t right. Henry leaned forward. The shadows didn’t match. They moved unnaturally, growing larger, creeping toward Cathy like they had a life of their own. Cathy’s eyes, wide with terror, flickered across the screen. Her screams were too real, too raw, like she wasn’t acting at all. And then, halfway through the reel, the film glitched.
Henry froze. The screen went black, but the sound continued—a woman’s sobs, echoing through the dark room, real and unrelenting. He felt a chill crawl up his spine as the sobs turned to shrieks, then stopped abruptly.
The screen flickered back to life. Cathy was no longer in character. She stood on the set, staring straight into the camera, her makeup smudged, her eyes hollow. She looked different, older, gaunt—like the life had been drained from her. Behind her, the shadows moved again, but this time they weren’t part of the set. They writhed, swirled, and reached for her.
“No,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “You promised. You promised to let me go.”
Suddenly, the screen went white with a blinding flash, and the projector sputtered and died. The room plunged into darkness.
Henry stood, heart pounding, fumbling for the light switch. His hand shook as he flicked it on, but nothing happened. He turned toward the projector. It was silent now, but the film wasn’t done with him.
A soft whisper filled the room. "Help me."
He turned slowly. Cathy was there—flesh and bone, standing in the corner of the room, eyes filled with despair. Her lips trembled, mouthing the same words over and over, but no sound came.
Henry backed away, but there was nowhere to go. The shadows in the room thickened, oozing from the walls, creeping toward him, just like in the film. He felt the cold fingers of fear clutch his throat as Cathy’s voice finally broke through the silence.
"They never let me leave."
The shadows surged. Henry screamed.
The film was found the next morning, still in the projector. Henry was gone. The screen, now frozen on the last frame of Cathy’s face, watched over the room in silence, her eyes wide, pleading—forever trapped in the final, terrible moments of The Last Days of Cathy Gale.
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305-Halloween Special The Last Days Of Cathy Gale: The Missing Film
Cathy, a McMaster student, disappeared without a trace. This is the last video found in her camera on Halloween night. Her Math Book has all the equations with one answer: 666.
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