I glance up and notice a double arrow on the wall—one points to "Exit," the other to "Back to Park." Fed up with the ordeal, I dash towards the "Exit" sign, anticipation building as sunlight filters in ahead. But my relief is short-lived; reaching the supposed exit, I find myself still five stories above ground, puzzled by the unexpected elevation. Peering outside, I spot the distant 101 freeway, cars streaming by. Desperate for a way down, I turn back, only to discover ten female mannequins mere paces away, one extending an old 8mm camera. Perhaps it's a clue, a souvenir to guide my escape.

As I reach for the camera, determined not to blink, a distant flash bang startles me—a show's spectacle—but I falter, and the mannequins draw closer. Faced with their relentless gaze, I realize the only way out is to capture evidence, to play their game. Slowly, I raise the Super8 camera, and as I press record, the mannequins transform into stunning women, a mesmerizing sight. But in an instant, their beauty fades, replaced by sharp teeth and sinister intent. As one lunges towards me, her mouth gaping wide, darkness envelops me.

THE END