🕑" Last Night in Soho- Where time Rewinds"

-


🕰️ Last Night in Soho – Through the Looking Glass

Monologue – The Nightly Storyteller

There’s a boarded-up store two blocks from my place—been that way since I was a kid. Nobody talks about it. Nobody fixes it. Just sits there, like a forgotten page in the neighborhood’s story.

But this morning, on my way to the flea market, something felt… off.

The boards were gone.
The windows clean.
A neon sign buzzed weakly: REWIND.

It shouldn’t have been open. It wasn’t open. Not yesterday. Not the day before. But here it was—brimming with VHS tapes and DVDs, stacked like tombstones, glowing with that eerie Blockbuster-but-haunted vibe.

Curiosity wins again.

I stepped inside.

🎬 "LAST NIGHT IN SOHO" – VHS COPY (Unrated)

Back Cover Description (Styled like a rental case)

🎥 “Sometimes, the past doesn’t just haunt you—it hunts you.”

When fashion student Eloise moves to London, she discovers her dreams transport her to the 1960s, where she witnesses the rise and ruin of a mysterious singer named Sandie. But the glamour soon fades, revealing a nightmare of possession, identity fractures, and ghostly vengeance.

FEATURES:

  • Unauthorized alternate ending
  • Black-and-white sequences not present in the theatrical release
  • Warning: This tape is not for resale, and not meant to be watched alone.

📼 The Shopkeeper

I didn’t see the clerk at first. Just heard a voice:

“You’re looking for answers. You won’t find them. But you might survive them.”

I turned. There they were—half in shadow behind the counter. Their features blurry, as if I was trying to remember someone I hadn't seen in years. One eye was blue. The other… not.

They didn’t ask what I was looking for.
They handed me the tape. Last Night in Soho.

I didn’t say I wanted it. I didn’t say anything at all.

⏱️ The 30-Minute Walk That Stole 9 Hours

I got home, tape in hand. Danny was sitting on the porch, arms crossed, worry stitched across his face.

“Where the hell have you been all day?”

I blinked. “What? I’ve been gone, like… half an hour.”

His phone said otherwise.
So did mine.
9 hours. Gone.

I hadn’t been at the flea market. I hadn’t wandered the block. I’d been inside REWIND for less than 20 minutes. Unless…

Unless the rules are starting to change. Time, identity, perception—they’re unraveling.
Like in the movie.
Like in me.

🎥 Reflections from the Film

Watching Last Night in Soho was like peeling my skin back and finding someone else underneath. Someone older. More haunted. More violent.

Eloise thought she was slipping into someone else's life—but maybe that life was always hers.
Maybe the past doesn’t echo. Maybe it infects.

There’s a moment in the film—Sandie turns toward the mirror, and Eloise is staring back.
I paused it.
I could’ve sworn I blinked… and someone else blinked back.

🪞Final Thought (Before I Press Play Again)

REWIND wasn’t on any map. The building still looks boarded up when I pass by now.
But the tape is here. The feeling lingers.
And the next time I go back? I think the clerk’s going to tell me something about the scarab.

Something I’m not ready to hear.

🎬 Stick around. Subscribe. Share.

And if you dare… drop a comment and tell me your favorite scary movie, urban legend, or horror memory.
We’re just getting started—and things are about to get dark.


thenightlystoryteller.blogspot.com


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

🕯️ The Gold Coin Chronicles Presents: “The Draw”

-
Image
🎙️ Intro — The Whisper Between Worlds > The rain has a voice, you know. Not the soft lullaby poets talk about, but something older… lonelier. It speaks in patterns — the rhythm of regret against a windowpane, the sigh of wind slipping through an open crack. When I was younger, I used to listen to it. But that was before I learned that some knocks shouldn’t be answered. And yet, we always do. We open the door — hoping for closure, or forgiveness, or maybe just a sign that we’re not alone. Tonight’s story begins with a knock like that… and a coin that should’ve stayed in the rain. --- 🌧️ Scene One: “The Draw” Cary, Illinois. A neighborhood where every house looks like it’s waiting for something — blinds half-closed, porch lights flickering like they’re afraid of the dark. Inside one of those houses, three friends gathered as rain lashed the windows. The air smelled like damp carpet, burnt popcorn, and stale beer. Somewhere, a fridge hummed with a tired rattle. The heater...
Read more

🕰️ Five Minute Fright: “The Watcher’s Gift”

-
Image
🎩 The Nightly Storyteller > “Time is the cruelest of currencies. We spend it without thought, we beg for more, and we always lose it in the end. But every so often… time gives something back. A second chance. A warning. Or, in this case—one final act of gratitude.” --- The rain had finally stopped by the time Evan left the funeral. He stood at the edge of the cemetery, hands in his coat pockets, watching as the groundskeeper lowered the last bouquet onto the fresh soil. His elderly neighbor, Mr. Harker, had lived alone for years—quiet, kind, and always ready with a story about “the good old days.” When the two became neighbors, Evan often helped with groceries, yard work, and fixing things around the house. Harker didn’t have much, but he always said, “You’ve given me the one thing no one else has, son—your time.” Two days later, a small box arrived in the mail. The return label: H. Harker. Inside, wrapped in soft cloth, was an old pocket watch—its gold casing aged, the...
Read more

🕯️ The Nightly Storyteller Presents: “The Price of Luck”(A Tale from The Gold Coin Chronicles)

-
Image
🎙️ Intro — The Weight of a Debt “Fortune’s currency is paid in shadow,” they whisper. Elias didn’t know he’d signed. The fine print is written in whispers only the debtor hears—an invisible ledger of repayment inked in the parts of ourselves we forget we gave up. The Collector came anyway. 🌙 The Coin and the Cold Elm and Willow, late afternoon. The air clung to skin like damp silk, heavy with the scent of wet asphalt and fresh-cut grass. Elias sat on the curb, elbows on his knees, watching cars drift by in lazy procession. The sun was setting, casting long shadows that stretched like skeletal fingers. Not waiting. Just existing. That’s when she walked by. A woman in a long gray coat, despite the sweltering heat, her steps quiet, deliberate. She didn’t look at him, but the air shifted when she passed—colder, carrying the faint scent of lavender and rain before it had fallen. Something slipped from her hand as she went. A coin. It landed in the gutter wi...
Read more