A long pause. Then a sound that is not a scream, but a release. A wet, percussive impact. Once. Twice. The rocking chair creak grows louder, synchronized with the impacts.
She’s asking for a name tag.
She reaches toward the lens. Her fingers are too long—five fingers, yes, but the proportions are off. Like someone drew hands from memory but got the knuckles wrong. She touches the glass of the camera lens. The screen turns black. -Harmony- House Of Shame.avi