Recorded April 19, 2017, 12:49 a.m.
BECCA: Something’s wrong.
ANTHONY: Just keep recording.
At first the phone records only darkness. Then, light ahead, the surface of it strangely opaque, though a figure can be seen dimly, kneeling.
BECCA: Why do you want me to record this? We should just go up there.
ANTHONY: I want a record of this. I don’t trust Lucy. And that camera’s way better than the one on my phone.
BECCA: Then you take it.
She hands him the camera, then pulls him forward. The distance between the camera and the light seems to shrink, fold, faster than it should, and then they stand within the circle of light.
Sara crouches near the flickering candle. Lucy lies in a pool of blood nearby.
BECCA: Oh my God.
She rushes forward, dropping to her knees beside Lucy. She searches for the source of the blood and tries to stanch it with her hands.
BECCA: What happened? Sara? Sara.
Sara jerks, gaze snapping into focus.
SARA: I don’t know. She just collapsed.
BECCA: Where did all this blood come from?
SARA: I don’t know.
She stands, lifting the severed hand with her. The candle wax puddles in the cupped palm and spills along its creases. A liquid drop rolls free of the rest and falls to the ground.
SARA: We have to go. The candle won’t last.
BECCA: Do we leave her?
SARA: We don’t have a choice.
Becca straightens up. She looks down at her hands, frowns, and wipes her hands on her shirt.
BECCA: Do you hear that?
ANTHONY: Hear what?
BECCA: Nothing. It’s . . . it’s quiet.
She looks disturbed.
ANTHONY: Let’s just get out of here.
He hands the camera back to Becca.
<Recording ends.>