The room is silent except for the gentle hum of the computer fan, and the occasional creak from the house settling. Outside, rain lashes the window, blurring the world beyond and heightening the sense of isolation. The cursor hovers over the first video, as if daring someone to click and begin the unsettling journey.

The viewer leans forward, heart pounding, as the camera moves closer to the door. The whisper intensifies, words barely discernible but unmistakably pleading for help. The screen flickers, and a pale hand reaches out from the darkness, clutching the frame with desperation.

Suddenly, the lullaby stops, replaced by the sound of soft sobbing. The camera pans to reveal a doll with missing eyes, its porcelain face cracked and smeared with something dark. The sobbing grows louder, and the viewer swears the doll’s head turns ever so slightly.

The flickering lights overhead dim further, and the shadows in the corners seem to pulse with life. The viewer’s breath quickens, and the rain outside grows heavier, drumming a frantic rhythm against the glass. The final video is queued, its thumbnail a swirling vortex of black and red.

The incantation grows louder, almost tangible, and the video glitches, freezing on the figure’s face. The laptop screen flickers, and the lights in the room go out, plunging everything into darkness. The silence is absolute, broken only by the sound of the viewer’s own heartbeat.

The viewer’s terror peaks, realizing the line between the videos and reality has blurred. Shadows shift along the walls as unseen hands reach out. The house, once familiar, is now a vessel for something ancient and hungry, and the viewer knows the horror has only just begun.