The video started in the middle of a hallway. The camera was low to the ground, moving with a rhythmic, wet sliding sound. There was no music, only the heavy, labored breathing of someone—or something—holding the recording device. The walls were covered in patterned wallpaper that seemed to vibrate, the floral prints shifting and blooming like time-lapse rot.
Elias heard the physical thud on the floorboards directly behind his chair. 1_5015151986333450365.avi
When he double-clicked it, his media player didn't open. Instead, his monitor flickered, the refresh rate dropping until he could see the individual lines of light scanning across the glass. The video started in the middle of a hallway
He didn't want to look behind him. He kept his eyes locked on the monitor, watching the digital version of his own back. In the video, the figure holding the camera was finally visible in the reflection of the window behind Elias’s desk. It was a tall, shadowed shape wrapped in what looked like magnetic tape, its face a smooth, featureless surface of static. The progress bar hit the end. 3:00 / 3:00. The walls were covered in patterned wallpaper that
He felt a cold, static-charged breath against the back of his neck. The recording of the next minute had just begun.