self made movies
Category
🎥
Short filmTranscript
00:00Tom was just another quiet boy in middle school, not particularly popular, not particularly
00:05invisible. He enjoyed math, sat near the window, and usually minded his own business.
00:11On one such afternoon, with only six minutes left until school ended, his eyes drifted away
00:16from the whiteboard and onto the outside world through the window. At first, it was nothing
00:21unusual. The sun bathed the playground in gold, kids laughed below, leaves rustled in the autumn
00:27breeze. But then, something caught his eye near the edge of the woods just beyond the
00:32school's boundary. A glint, like glass, reflecting light. But no, it wasn't glass. It looked like
00:40a photograph. As soon as the bell rang, Tom leapt from his chair and sprinted toward the
00:45spot. His heart raced with excitement, though he couldn't explain why. He pushed past a few
00:51younger kids, narrowly avoiding the gym teacher, and made it to the edge of the field. There,
00:56lying perfectly untouched in the grass, was the picture. He picked it up, it wasn't faded
01:02or dirty. The colors were vivid. A girl stood in the photograph, frozen in time, flawless
01:07features, long black hair, pale skin like porcelain, and a smile that both warmed and chilled him.
01:14She wore a light blue dress, white tights, and red shoes. Her right hand was held up in a peace sign.
01:20Tom felt something strange, not just curiosity, but a pull. Something about the photo made his
01:27chest tighten with longing and fear. He spent the entire day asking teachers, classmates,
01:33even the janitor, but no one had ever seen her. No one recognized the girl in the picture.
01:39Disappointed and obsessed, Tom went home, showed it to his older sister, same answer.
01:43A shrug and a quick, nope, sorry. That night, as the wind howled and the branches scratched against
01:50the roof, Tom placed the photograph carefully on his bedside table and went to sleep. At 2.37 AM,
01:57he awoke to a tapping. Tap, tap, tap. It was deliberate, like fingernails on glass. He sat up,
02:05pulse quickening. Then came a sound that chilled him, a soft giggle. A girl's giggle. The window was
02:11slightly ajar, letting in the cold wind. Tom crept to it, peered out, and saw, nothing. But just as he
02:19turned away, he caught a shadow flit past the corner of the house. Without thinking, he opened
02:24the window and climbed out, barefoot and trembling, chasing the sound. He reached the backyard woods,
02:30heart-hammering, but there was nothing. Only silence, and the picture still rested on his bedside
02:36table. The next morning, he looked more exhausted than ever. Dark circles, pale face, trembling
02:42hands. Still, he kept asking everyone about the girl. No one knew anything. That night,
02:49the tapping returned. This time it was louder. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Like someone trying harder to
02:57get in. The giggle followed. Then a whisper. Tom. He sat up in bed, terrified, sweating. The picture
03:05was now on his desk, he didn't remember moving it. He grabbed it and stared. Something had changed.
03:11The girl's expression, it was a little more intense. The smile seemed wider. Her eyes, colder,
03:18sharper. The peace sign was still there, but her hand seemed, distorted. Still under her spell,
03:24Tom opened the window and stepped outside. Across the road, near the same woods, he thought he saw her,
03:30just for a moment, standing there. He ran. He never saw the headlights. The screech of tires
03:37shattered the night. The driver jumped out of the car, panic in his voice. Tom lay on the cold asphalt,
03:44lifeless, a trickle of blood crawling across his forehead. In his hand, still clutched tightly,
03:50was the photograph. The driver, horrified, reached down and picked up the photo. He blinked.
03:57The girl in the picture was smiling. But something was wrong, she was now holding up three fingers.
04:03He didn't understand, not yet. The driver, named Mark, began having nightmares. The same tapping
04:11at the window. The same giggle. The same girl in the dress, standing at the edge of his backyard,
04:17waving, not with two fingers, not with three, but with four. He tried to throw the picture away.
04:23It came back, burned it, it reappeared, left it at the police station, it showed up on his nightstand.
04:30Each person who possessed the photo, who saw the girl and smiled, would die. Each time,
04:36she'd appear with one more finger raised. A librarian who found it in a returned book was next,
04:41she died in her sleep, eyes wide open in terror. The photo was found in her cold hands. This time,
04:48the girl held up five fingers. Then a boy at a flea market. A woman in a motel. A traveler on a train.
04:56Each saw the girl. Each smiled. Each died. And each time, one more finger. No one knows who the girl
05:04is. No one knows where the picture came from. No one knows how to stop her. But one thing is certain.
05:11If you find the photo, do not smile. Do not sleep. Do not answer the tapping. Because once she raises,
05:18ten fingers, she steps out of the picture. And then. She's looking for you. The girl in the
05:25picture. Part 2. She's almost here. It had been two weeks since Tom's tragic death. The town was
05:32quiet, but something felt wrong, an uneasy stillness, like a breath held too long. Mark, the driver who
05:38hit Tom, hadn't spoken to anyone since the accident. He barely slept. He couldn't eat. He was haunted by
05:45the photo. No matter where he went, the picture followed him. Tucked into the pages of his books,
05:51under his pillow, even in his glove compartment. The girl in the picture no longer looked innocent.
05:57Her eyes were darker, almost hollow. Her smile, stretched and too wide, as if carved into her face.
06:04And she now held up six fingers. Mark tried burning the photograph again, this time using gasoline.
06:10But when he returned home, it was sitting neatly in the center of his bed, not a single burn mark.
06:16He cried that night, he begged, but the tapping returned. Tap, tap, tap. This time, it wasn't the
06:24window. It was the mirror. Across town, 16-year-old Rachel was researching Tom's death for the school
06:31paper. She found the police report, but there was no mention of the photograph. Curious, she began
06:38digging deeper and discovered something terrifying, a local legend from decades ago. A girl named
06:43Anora Blake, known for her beauty and silence, had vanished in the 1970s after claiming someone
06:49was trapped in her mirror. She was found dead in the woods, her body folded unnaturally, eyes missing.
06:56Beside her was a photograph. The same photograph. But with just one finger raised. Rachel's hands shook
07:04as she stared at the printed image from the archive. What kind of spirit leaves a photograph, that
07:09counts. That night, Mark was found dead. His body slumped in his bathroom, his neck twisted at an
07:16impossible angle, mouth open in a silent scream. No signs of struggle, no forced entry. On the cracked
07:23bathroom mirror, a bloody handprint. And on the counter, beside his lifeless hand, was the same photograph.
07:30This time, the girl held up seven fingers. Rachel was now obsessed. She visited Tom's house, spoke to
07:38his sister, dug through his old school locker. That's when she found his journal. And inside it,
07:44a second photo, another version. Except this one was different, the background had change. Behind the
07:51girl stood a tree, twisted and gnarled, and something else. A silhouette, tall and humanoid, watching her from
07:58the shadows. The peace sign was gone. The girl's hand now pointed directly at the viewer. Rachel couldn't
08:05breathe. She flipped to the next page in the journal. A drawing, crude but terrifying. The girl crawling out of
08:12a mirror, her fingers leaving blood trails as she emerged. Rachel slammed the book shut. She was done. She
08:19tossed the picture into the fire pit in her backyard and watched it burn. But her phone buzzed. Airdrop request.
08:26Unknown wants to share a photo. She screamed. It was the same picture, but now the girl held up eight
08:33fingers. Desperate, Rachel turned to a retired occultist named Mrs. Caldwell, who once lived near
08:39the woods where Enora Blake died. The old woman stared at the photo for a long time, and finally
08:45whispered. She's counting souls. Each finger is a soul taken. When she reaches ten, the door opens.
08:52What door? Rachel asked. The one between her world and ours. What happens then? The old woman looked up,
09:01eyes wet with terror. She steps through. That night, Rachel barricaded her house. She placed salt lines
09:08at every door and mirror. She taped over her phone's camera. But as the clock struck 3am, the tapping came
09:15again. This time from inside her closet. The door creaked open slowly. Nothing there. Until she
09:22turned around and found the photo lying on her bed, the girl now held up nine fingers. Suddenly,
09:29her reflection moved, but she hadn't. The mirror girl tilted her head, and smiled. One more death,
09:35and she would be free. But whose soul would be the last? Rachel ran to the woods, clutching the photo,
09:41trying to retrace the legend, trying to destroy the source. The twisted tree she saw in the second
09:47image, it was real. There, buried beneath its roots, she found a small, shattered hand mirror,
09:54covered in dried blood. She dug furiously, her fingers raw, until she unearthed something strange,
10:00a small locket. Inside, the same girl. But her face had been scratched out. Suddenly, everything went
10:07silent. The wind stopped, the forest stood still. And behind her, a giggle. Rachel turned. The girl
10:16stood there, not in the photo, not in the mirror. In the flesh. Smiling. Holding up ten fingers. The girl
10:25in the picture. Final part. When she steps through. The moment Rachel saw the ten fingers, her knees
10:31buckled. The girl, no longer a mere photograph, stood in the moonlight, her pale dress fluttering
10:37unnaturally as if moved by an invisible force. Her face was soft but lifeless, like a doll's. But her
10:44eyes, those hollow, black wells of death, locked on Rachel's soul. You're the tenth, the girl whispered.
10:51And the gate, is open. Before Rachel could run, the girl lunged. But just as her cold hand reached
10:58Rachel's throat, the ground shook violently. The locket Rachel had unearthed began to glow,
11:04pulsing with a soft white light. The spirit hissed and recoiled, shrieking in a voice that sounded like
11:10a thousand whispers at once. Rachel, trembling, held up the locket toward the girl. Inside was the
11:16scratched photo. Anora Blake, the girl who vanished decades ago. Suddenly, the truth flooded into Rachel's
11:23mind like a memory not her own. Anora had been trapped, cursed inside a mirror realm by a
11:28malevolent force, not a ghost, but a parasite, feeding on her image and using it to lure the
11:34living. Each photograph it created was a doorway, and every death a key to unlocking its full return
11:39to the living world. Anora was never the villain. She was the first victim. Now, her cursed image had
11:46taken on a life of its own. But Rachel had something the others didn't, the original mirror,
11:52now cracked and buried, and Anora's true photo, not the cursed copy. Rachel chanted words from
11:58Mrs. Caldwell's notebook, a protection spell tied to binding the cursed spirit back into its realm.
12:04By name unspoken and glass now broken, return to shadow, where you were awoken. The air tore open
12:10like fabric. The girl screamed, her face shifting violently between beauty and grotesque decay.
12:16The photo in Rachel's hand burst into flames, and the cursed spirit began to collapse inward,
12:22skin tearing like paper, eyes glowing, mouth unhinging far too wide. I just wanted, to be seen.
12:29Her final whisper echoed as she was dragged screaming into the glowing crack between worlds.
12:35The earth sealed shut with a heavy thud, and silence returned. Rachel fell unconscious.
12:40Epilogue. One year later, Rachel now lived far away, in a quiet village. She never spoke of what
12:47happened. She kept the real photo of Anora, now cleansed, in a small wooden frame beside her bed,
12:53a reminder that not all ghosts are evil, and some simply need to be set free. But late at night,
12:59when the wind howled through the cracks in her windows, Rachel sometimes thought she could hear,
13:03a giggle. Just once. Just faintly. And in the back of her closet, inside a shoebox she never dared
13:10open again, rested the burnt remains of the cursed photo, now dark, faded. And the girl in it? She was
13:18gone. But the photo was no longer empty. A new face had started to form. One with long brown hair,
13:25and wide terrified eyes. Rachel's.