Negative Code #1 The Red Camera #1

I’m on a mission to find someone who goes by the name Adam Chrome, renowned investigator and seeker of the supernatural. I received an anonymous tip that sent shivers down my spine. It spoke of a haunted house nestled in the heart of the city, once owned by a silent film-era photographer whose portraits were said to possess those who gazed upon them. Reports of missing persons, seemingly drawn to the eerie allure of those cursed photographs, were surfacing with alarming frequency. I decided uncover the truth behind this macabre mystery.

The message instructed me to make my way to a statue in Beverly Hills, depicting a red-cloaked photographer frozen in time. I remember that one time i shot color reversal photographs on Rodeo Drive and had a photograph of that very statue. I wonder if that’s how I got wrapped up in this mess. As I approached the statue, my senses heightened, staying alert to any danger lurking in the shadows. Suddenly, the roar of an engine shattered the silence, looking right a golden-plated Rolls Royce careened towards me, narrowly missing my frame and I instinctively sought refuge behind the stone sculpture.

Heart pounding, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. This was no coincidence; someone was trying to stop me from delving deeper into the secrets of the haunted house. With trembling hands, I examined the statue, searching for any clue that might lead me closer to the truth. I traced the edges of the camera clutched in the statue's grip, and with a twist, the lens detached, revealing a hidden compartment within.

We wear leaves and dance on air, Bound by strings, yet flying bare. A catch for our tears form a secret bond, A Saint for our fears till love is gone.

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What is it?