The Cellar Door Won't Stay Shut — Repeat Scare

An 8-second 16:9 found-footage escalation: a cellar door that refuses to stay shut, each time worse. The scene opens in the kitchen at night, the overhead light humming, a man filming himself latching the heavy wooden cellar door with its iron bolt — he slides it home, steps back, narrating with forced calm. 0-3s: The bolt slides open on its own with a metallic shriek; the door swings inward, revealing black stairs descending into nothing; he closes it, bolts it again, firmer this time, leaning his shoulder into it. 3-5s: Same result — faster now, the bolt shearing back, the door swinging wide before he fully steps away; third time he throws his whole weight against it, narrating shakily, and the door explodes inward, the bolt shearing off entirely, the darkness below somehow deeper than before. 5-8s: From the cellar, something exhales — a long, wet breath that fogs up out of the stairwell into the kitchen, visible in the cold air; the overhead light dies, the phone flashlight taking over, the fog still rising. The fog from the stairwell thickens, coiling around the man's ankles, cold enough to show his breath. The phone flashlight flickers once, and in that black frame something wet shifts on the stairs below. Subject and craft: kitchen, heavy wooden cellar door, iron bolt, black stairwell, rising breath-fog. Camera: handheld found-footage, diegetic panic, pushing close on the bolt and the fog. Lighting: single kitchen bulb strobing out, phone-flashlight harshness. Mood: escalating, helpless repetition. Style: found-footage realism, photorealistic.