Disney’s Poltergeist

In the year 2000, Disney had planned to release their first theatrical horror film for mature audiences. This was a fairly big step for the company, as they’d hoped to usher in a new era by making movies strictly for adults; alongside their usual family-friendly material, of course. On paper, it was a smart move. Disney was a household name well before the ’90s rolled around, but they were mainly acknowledged for their animated material, so they wanted to surprise people with newer concepts. However, despite the corporate giant’s hopeful mindset, the execution of this idea was a disaster.

According to documentation, written by my own accord, Disney wanted to try something “bold” with their iconic poster boy: Mickey Mouse. No, not by making him the protagonist of the film, but the antagonist instead. They’d planned for this version of Mickey to be a doppelgänger of sorts, acting as more of an influence than a physical entity.

I’m sure you can see the clear nonsense here.

Disney’s thought process during this endeavor was a major risk, but they went all out nonetheless. Typically, this process is understandable. If you’re trying to pitch a new idea, you need to make a good first impression. However, the executives leading the project clearly weren’t thinking straight. Using a lighthearted character like Mickey Mouse as a villain is risky, because most of the time, people won’t take it seriously. If the movie was planned to be comedic, then I’m sure Mickey being a slapstick villain would’ve been passable, but the final product wasn’t a comedy in any sense of the word.

Let’s rewind back to 1999, specifically the 13th of August, when a test screening for a film called “White Noise” took place. Invitations were handed out to people chosen by the cast and crew, up until the auditorium was full. Various family members and close friends were treated to the end result of strenuous efforts and the occasional sleepless night. This was a big deal for everyone involved in the film’s production, so they wanted a packed audience. However, as you’re already aware, the event didn’t go as planned. There was one screening for the film, and that was more than enough.

Moving forward, I’ll be citing the aforementioned documentation word-for-word. Personally, I find it pointless to attempt a summary of the situation. Everything described is exactly what happened. However, before I begin citing said documentation, I want to clarify that the contents of “White Noise” will not be shared. I apologize if you were expecting an in-depth description, but as you read the rest of this article, you’ll understand why the information can’t be relayed. “Fortunately”, I do remember the aftermath very clearly. The following is a printed excerpt from the notebook I used to document my experience in ’99. Please read at your own risk, as this may trigger those who suffer from poor mental health.

“‘White Noise’ test screening aftermath”

“After the film had ended, the auditorium went dark, and quickly fell silent. Most of us were in a strong state of shock. Others had understandably fainted, due to the horrors they’d witnessed. After a moment of silence, a truly unpredictable event shook the audience to its core.

In the midst of mass disturbance, the door to the nearby emergency exit began to drift open. Its slow progression caused an overbearing sense of dread. Once again, no one made a sound. It seemed as if this dread was strong enough to restrain even the quietest response. This undeniably sounds impossible, but we knew that something was silencing us by force, and it didn’t hesitate to show itself.

When the door had reached the wall behind it, a warm light engulfed the passage, leading to what seemed like a void. It was in this moment when a somewhat uncanny voice came through the speakers, calling for patrons to leave the theater due to an electrical emergency. With haste, several people rushed out of the auditorium, fearing the worst. Despite so many people leaving, some of us stayed behind, with a sinking feeling that something was very wrong. Why would an emergency alert be broadcasted through the speakers connected to the projector? This exact thought sparked unease, and we were right to feel that way.

Once the last person walked through the door, the enveloping light disappeared in a split-second, followed by silence that made breathing sound like wailing. Breaking the silence, a faint sound made itself apparent from outside the room. Growing in volume, it inched closer to the doorway, and started to sound like a broken music box. A dreadful sound to be sure, but its source was far worse.

Shrouded in darkness, a Mickey Mouse costume sauntered into the room, and froze in front of the doorway.

With the music now piercingly loud, I covered my ears to muffle the sound. It was hard to think straight, but I still tried to get a better look at the source of the sound. At first, I thought it was just some jackass trying to prank us. However, the more I looked, the more I couldn’t possibly try to explain what I was seeing. The costume was entirely white, as if it were repainted to resemble a ghost. Its stance was unnerving, seemingly frozen in time, without a single twitch or shudder. By the time I’d processed what I could see, I noticed the music changing.

Once a corrupted assortment of notes, it seamlessly shifted into sobs and screams. It was unbearable to listen to, but I couldn’t do anything except wait it out. No one dared to move, but it’s not like there was anything else to be done. The exit was being blocked by something with unknown intent, and none of us were willing to move from our seats. Surely someone would come to help eventually, so we just waited. Yet, despite my hopeful mindset throughout the chaos, no one came.

I couldn’t tell how much time had passed.

Around ten minutes?

Around thirty minutes?

Around an hour?

The constant noise made it impossible to consider a reasonable time frame. I felt like I was going insane, until I had an even stranger feeling. Being exposed to those cries for so long, I started figuring out who they belonged to. The patrons who disappeared into the light never did leave the theater, did they? After all, I didn’t hear another door open or close. Maybe, just maybe, the light was the door, and the costume was on the other side. This thought seemed far too outlandish to be true, and I hoped the noise was just scrambling my brain, until I noticed the costume staring at me. I was undoubtedly right about my revelation, and I feared the worst for it.

Petrified, I expected the costume to move toward me, but it didn’t. It just stared at me, and after some time, the wailing faded. I uncovered my ears, expecting to hear the other patrons do something, but I couldn’t hear anything at all. My first thought was the fear of having gone deaf, until I turned around to check on everyone, and was met with more terror than before.

The auditorium was empty.

I turned back around, expecting to see the costume remaining where it stood, but it disappeared as well. I began to panic, unable to process any aspect of the situation. A nightmare turned into something much worse, and I was the only one there to experience it. I went to cover my face, but I couldn’t move my hands. I couldn’t feel them either. Looking down to see why, I saw nothing. I didn’t see my hands, I didn’t see my arms, nor my legs or feet. My body was gone. I looked back up, and my body was suspended in mid-air. The projector lit up, and a pulsating mass of conjoined faces filled the screen. They looked like the other patrons, with eyes darting in random directions every second. Not a second later, my body started clawing at itself, tearing flesh from bone and ripping out nerve endings like ingrown hairs. I tried to scream but nothing came out. I noticed the faces staring at me now, morphing into the shape of the white costume. Without a second to process anything, the costume propelled itself out of the screen and engulfed my body. I couldn’t handle it anymore, and I blacked out, waking up in a hospital bed with hardly any memory of the film’s contents.

In the following months, the event became a highly questionable rumor. Victims began to show their trauma one after the other, often resulting in suicides or missing persons cases, while known survivors were likely hospitalized. Thankfully, there are individuals alongside myself who have learned to cope with their trauma and losses, but insult was eventually added to injury. Due to insufficient evidence, the test screening was labeled as mass hysteria, with the entire scenario being denied by both Disney and the theater. In addition, no lawsuits against Disney were ever publicized, likely due to being snuffed out, but that notion is theoretical. As for the movie itself, don’t hold your breath when it comes to finding undeniable proof. Cameras were prohibited during the screening, and promptly confiscated before entering the auditorium. The entire ordeal was practically scraped from history, resulting in nothing but painful memories for those of us who are still here to speak up.

In conclusion, “White Noise” became a ghost story, with no sound evidence to back up its existence. Those who dealt with their trauma had attempted to spread the word, but it was treated like an off-color joke. This harsh reality showed that nothing could prove the event’s existence, nor the toll it took on us. We have to live with being part of an urban legend, keeping our involvement private for the sake of ridicule. While others can enjoy Disney’s current movies and shows, any mention of the corporation is an immediate reminder of what transpired, and the image of Mickey Mouse has ultimately become revolting.”

As you can see, the event became incredibly deranged near the end. While it may seem improbable, the psychotic aspects of the event occured after I slipped into a state of unconsciousness. The part where I described the costume’s presence did indeed happen, but the effects of its influence were purely a result of a stress-induced nightmare. CCTV footage of the auditorium revealed the costume’s existence, but the remaining patrons and I had passed out from the aggression of the noise before it entered the room. Strangely, the footage wasn’t revealed to me until recently, when I decided to start digging into the grave of this whole ordeal. Somehow, I perceived the costume while unconscious, and documented it as though I was awake to see it. However, the rather chaotic aspects of my experience occurred solely while I was knocked out. The costume was in the auditorium for around ten to fifteen minutes before walking out. It couldn’t be seen by the cameras outside the room, and the individuals who left after the emergency alert couldn’t be seen either. They completely vanished after walking through the doorway, and were never found.

Disney’s “White Noise” was an unforgettable experience for the wrong reasons, and the aftermath turned Disney into an unforgivable violator.