The air felt thick in the security office, each breath heavier than the last as the hours ticked away. The flickering lights and constant hum of the security system had become almost deafening, but it was nothing compared to the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. Every night, it was the same. The fear, the dread, the knowledge that something—someone—was watching you from the shadows.

Tonight, though, there was a different sensation in the air, a feeling that made your skin crawl. You had been working this night shift for a while now, and the paranoia had started to seep into your bones. The security cameras weren’t offering much peace either, with static more frequent and the images increasingly distorted.

You tried to focus on your task—monitoring the building, keeping track of the animatronics, and ensuring that nothing went wrong. But as you stared at the grainy feed from the hallway camera, you couldn’t help but notice something disturbing: a figure in the corner of the screen. Its shape was wrong, like it wasn’t entirely there—flickering in and out, the distorted colors creating an illusion that made it impossible to focus.