Behind The Shutter

Chapter 1: The Disappearance

[INT. EVANSTON MANSION – DAY] 

 The camera pans across the decaying grandeur of the Evanston Mansion, its onceopulent halls now shrouded in dust and neglect. A film crew busily sets up equipment, oblivious to the ominous atmosphere. EVA MONTGOMERY, the mid-30s, intense and driven, directs her team with precision. She wears a confident but distant expression, her mind already lost in the vision she plans to capture. 

EVA (commanding) "Get the lights right. I want the shadows to stretch—make it feel like the walls are closing in."

ASSISTANT "Got it, Eva. The model's ready."

EVA turns, her eyes narrowing as she looks at ALINA KOVA, early 20s, a supermodel with an ethereal beauty that contrasts starkly with the decay around her. ALINA's gaze is vacant, almost unnervingly detached, as if she's not really present.

EVA (studying her intently) "Alina, remember, I need vulnerability. I need fear. You're not just posing; you're being consumed by this place."

ALINA (soft, almost mechanical) "I understand. Let's begin." 

The photoshoot unfolds with eerie precision. Each click of the shutter is methodical, capturing ALINA in increasingly disturbing poses—bound, broken, and terrified. EVA's focus intensifies, her movements almost robotic as if she's driven by something beyond her control. As the final shot is taken, EVA suddenly pauses, staring into the camera's viewfinder with an expression of confusion mixed with dread. She frowns, shaking her head slightly.

EVA (whispering to herself) "What...?" 

The screen on her camera glitches, the image of ALINA distorting grotesquely before flickering back to normal. EVA blinks, unsettled, but shakes it off.

EVA (to the crew) "That's a wrap."

[INT. EVA'S STUDIO – NIGHT]  EVA's minimalist studio is illuminated by the cold, blue light of her computer screen. She sits alone, reviewing the photos. As she clicks through the images, her brow furrows in frustration. The photos seem... wrong. Distorted in ways she can't explain.

EVA (muttering to herself) "Why are they... like this?"

She clicks on one image—a close-up of ALINA's face. The screen flickers, and suddenly, the image warps, ALINA's face twisting into a horrific, unnatural expression. Startled, EVA yanks her hand back from the mouse.

EVA (frantically clicking through) "No... no, this isn't what I shot."

But each photo is worse than the last—corrupted, haunting, filled with cryptic symbols that seem to pulse on the screen. Panic begins to set in. She tries to delete the files, but the computer resists, the screen freezing as the cursor spins endlessly.

EVA (desperate) "Come on..."

The screen suddenly goes black. EVA stares at her reflection in the dark monitor, her breath quickening. Then, without warning, the computer reboots on its own, and a single file begins to upload to her website—a corrupted, nightmarish image of ALINA. Eva's face pales as she watches helplessly.

The studio is eerily quiet, the only sound being the hum of the computer. Eva stares at the screen, still rattled by the unsettling images that have been uploaded without her consent. She rubs her temples, exhaustion and fear weighing heavily on her. She reaches for her phone, intending to call for help, but pauses, a sense of dread creeping over her.

EVA (to herself, whispering) "Get it together, Eva. It's just a glitch. It has to be..."

She takes a deep breath and tries to regain her composure. Shutting down her computer, she stands and begins to gather her things, eager to leave the studio and the nightmarish images behind. As she reaches for her coat, a faint noise catches her attention—a soft, mechanical whirring sound, almost like the hum of an old film projector.

She freezes, listening. The sound seems to be coming from behind her. Slowly, she turns, her eyes scanning the dark corners of the room.

EVA (cautiously) "Hello? Is someone there?"

No response. The room is still, the shadows long and menacing in the dim light. She shakes her head, dismissing the noise as her imagination runs wild. But as she turns back toward the door, the whirring intensifies, followed by a sharp click—like the shutter of a camera. Eva spins around, her heart pounding. The studio is empty, but her camera, which she'd turned off, is now powered on, the lens pointed directly at her. The red recording light blinks ominously. 

EVA (alarmed, reaching out to the camera) "What the...?"

Before she can touch it, the camera clicks again, the flash going off and blinding her momentarily. Disoriented, she stumbles back, her vision filled with spots. The room seems to warp around her, the shadows closing in, growing darker and more oppressive.

Her breath quickens as she fumbles for the door handle, but it's locked. She hadn't locked it. Panic sets in as she tries to force it open, her hands trembling. The whirring sound grows louder, accompanied by the faintest of whispers—indistinct, as if coming from all around her.

WHISPERING VOICES (hissing, overlapping) "Eva... Eva... Eva..."

She covers her ears, backing away from the door, her heart racing. The lights flicker, and for a brief moment, the studio is plunged into darkness. When the lights return, Eva gasps—a shadowy figure stands at the far end of the room, barely visible but unmistakably there.

EVA (terrified) "Who are you?! What do you want?!"

The figure doesn't respond. It simply stands there, watching her. The camera clicks again, capturing her fear-stricken face. She backs away, her mind racing for a way out. As she moves, the figure takes a step forward, and the lights flicker again. Eva's breathing becomes erratic. She glances back at the door, then at the figure, now only a few feet away. Desperation takes over, and she dashes the window. But as she reaches it, the windowpane distorts like a digital glitch, shimmering and shifting out of reality.

EVA (screaming) "No! This can't be real!"

She's trapped. The camera continues to snap photos, each flash blinding her momentarily, as the whispers grow louder and more frantic. The figure is now right behind her, its presence cold and suffocating. With no escape in sight, Eva turns to face the figure, her back pressed against the glitching window. Tears stream down her face as she realizes the hopelessness of her situation.

EVA (sobbing, pleading) "Please... please, just let me go..."

The figure finally moves closer, its form shifting and flickering like a corrupted image. It reaches out to her, and as its hand touches her, the room fills with a high-pitched, piercing noise. The lights flicker wildly, and in a final, blinding flash, everything goes dark. The studio is silent once more. The camera, now motionless, points at an empty room. Eva is gone—vanished without a trace.