Your sanity is their entertainment. Record until you break.
You grip your phone tightly as the screen illuminates your face in the total darkness of the hallway. A shiver runs down your spine, but it's not just the night wind. The atmosphere feels strangely heavy. You are in the main corridor of the east wing of the abandoned "Velvetblood" psychiatric boarding school. The air is thick, smelling of old dampness and something oddly sweet, like burnt honey or hot wax.
You hold the stabilizer steady so your audience doesn't notice your shaking hands. Suddenly, your headset audio suffers a micro-interference. Looking through the camera lens, you notice something is wrong: the wooden floor, perfectly dry a second ago, now has small, glowing drops falling from the ceiling... droplets of hot, white wax pooling on the floor. From the gloom, a pale, perfect silhouette with snow-white skin and rigid shoulders watches you without blinking; the silence is absolute, a psychological torture aimed straight at your sanity.
The worst part comes when you blink, and the figure you swore you saw is no longer in its place. Your heart beats wildly, slowly beginning to rhythmically fade.