- 9 months ago
self made movies
Category
🎥
Short filmTranscript
00:00Every summer, my mother would send me to stay with my aunt and uncle, who lived far out in
00:04the countryside. Their place was surrounded by vast fields, dense woods, and a silence so deep
00:11that it sometimes made my ears ring. My cousin, Rohan, and I were inseparable during those weeks.
00:18We were both 12, curious, and fearless. Or at least, we thought we were. We would spend our
00:24days wandering the hills, climbing trees, swimming in the nearby river, and pretending to be
00:29adventurers. One of our favorite pastimes was getting ourselves, intentionally lost, and finding
00:35our way back, guided only by instinct and fading sun. That day was different. We had ventured far,
00:42farther than we ever had before. The sun was beginning its slow descent behind the hills,
00:48casting long shadows over the dry grass. We were about to turn back when we saw it.
00:53A farmhouse. It sat in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a broken-down fence,
00:59wilted trees, and waist-high weeds. Its windows were dark and cracked, its walls stained with
01:05patches of mold, and a rusty windmill beside it groaned with every gust of wind. There was something
01:10off about the place, something too quiet, but curiosity pulled us toward it like an invisible
01:15rope. Let's check it out, Rohan whispered, eyes glinting with excitement. We climbed over the fence
01:22and landed in the overgrown yard. There was a small shed next to the house, its wooden door chained
01:28and padlocked. A keyhole glared at us like a dark eye, filled with cobwebs and caked dust.
01:34Creepy, I muttered. As we walked toward the house, we noticed that the front door was slightly ajar.
01:40It creaked slowly, moving with the wind as if inviting us in. I hesitated. Hello? I called out,
01:48my voice breaking the heavy silence. No response. That's when the smell hit me. A pungent mix of
01:55mold, rot, and something worse, like dead meat left in the sun. My stomach churned. Still, Rohan
02:02stepped inside, fearless. I followed. The living room was a chaotic mess. Torn clothes, stacks of yellow
02:10newspapers, boxes spilling over with junk, and thick layers of dust coated everything.
02:16A broken television sat in one corner, its screen cracked like a spiderweb. An old leather armchair
02:22faced a fireplace filled with ash and charred bones. Yes, bones. I don't like this, I whispered.
02:30Let's just look upstairs real quick, Rohan said, already halfway to the stairs. As I took a step forward,
02:36I noticed something near the bed, a figure lying motionless between two toppled boxes.
02:42My breath caught in my throat. It was an old man. He was on his back, face turned upward,
02:49eyes wide open in an eternal stare. His mouth was agape as if caught in a silent scream,
02:55and his skin was a sickly gray. Maggots crawled near his ear. I screamed. Rohan rushed down,
03:02saw the body, and turned pale. We need to get out of here. Now. We ran out the door,
03:08tripping over weeds and rocks, hearts pounding. As we passed the shed, something slammed against
03:14its door. Then, crash, the lock broke off and the door burst open. An old woman stood there,
03:20her wild hair knotted and greasy. Her skin was sagging and pale, her mouth stretched into a crooked
03:27grin revealing rotted, yellow teeth. She held a blood-stained butcher's knife in her hand.
03:33Leaving so soon, she rasped. She lunged at me. I barely dodged her and bolted. I didn't look back,
03:40I just ran. I ran like my life depended on it, because it did. It was only when I had crossed
03:46two fields that I realized something terrible. Rohan wasn't with me. I stopped, gasping,
03:53panic rising in my throat. I screamed his name, no reply. I ran the rest of the way back to my aunt
03:59and uncle's house, sobbing and covered in dirt. As soon as I burst through the door, I collapsed.
04:06My mother held me tightly as I screamed for help. My uncle grabbed his shotgun and we jumped into his
04:12truck, tearing through the countryside toward the place I described. But when we arrived,
04:16there was no farmhouse. No shed, no windmill, nothing. Just an empty field. What are you
04:24talking about? My uncle asked. There's nothing here. But I saw it. We both did. The police were
04:31called. Drones scanned the area. Dogs were brought in. Helicopters hovered above. Nothing. Not even
04:39footprints. Rohan was never found. The story made the local news, then disappeared. My family never
04:46spoke of it again. Some claimed I imagined it all. That I had wandered off alone and invented a story
04:52to hide my guilt. But they didn't see what I saw. They didn't smell the rot, or see the woman, or the
04:58dead man. Years later, I returned to that area, driven by nightmares and guilt. I walked for hours,
05:05retracing my steps, hoping it was all a dream. And then, as the sun began to set behind the hills.
05:12I saw it again. The farmhouse. Exactly the same. Rotting walls, groaning windmill, half-open door.
05:20But this time, it wasn't abandoned. There was a figure standing in the upstairs window, watching me.
05:27It was Rohan. He was pale, expressionless, and his eyes were empty. And beside him, grinning in the
05:34shadows, was the old woman. Farmhouse. Part 2 The House That Waits. I stood frozen in the field,
05:41heart-hammering against my ribs, staring at the decaying farmhouse that wasn't supposed to exist.
05:47But it was there, right in front of me. The same broken fence. The same wheezing windmill. The same
05:54heavy stench of rot drifting across the field like a poisonous fog. And in the upstairs window,
05:59staring down at me with blank, soulless eyes, was Rohan. His skin was pale, too pale. His face gaunt,
06:07his mouth slightly open, as if trying to speak, or scream. But no sound came. My legs trembled,
06:14but I stepped forward, drawn by a force stronger than fear. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was madness,
06:21but I had to go back. I climbed over the fence. The brittle wood snapped beneath my hand,
06:27but I didn't stop. As I crossed the yard, the ground felt softer, spongy, almost as if I were
06:33walking on something not entirely solid. I didn't dare look down. The front door stood open,
06:40just like before, creaking softly. The darkness inside seemed to breathe, pulsing with a life of
06:46its own. I stepped inside. The air was colder than outside, unnaturally so. The smell hit me again,
06:53stronger this time. Like rotting flesh soaked in vinegar. My stomach clenched. The room was exactly
07:00as I remembered. Torn furniture, overturned boxes, decaying walls. But there was more now,
07:07black handprints smeared along the wallpaper, long scratches on the floor, as if someone had
07:12been dragged. Rohan? I whispered. Silence. I moved forward, past the leather armchair.
07:19The fireplace was lit this time. Faint orange flames flickered, but there was no warmth,
07:25only the crackle of bone and ash. And then I heard it. Footsteps. Above me, slow, deliberate,
07:33heavy. My breath caught. I climbed the stairs one at a time, each creak beneath my foot echoing like
07:40thunder in the deathly still house. The hallway upstairs was long and narrow, lined with shut doors.
07:46The wallpaper was peeling like dead skin. Shadows clung to the corners. Then, one door creaked
07:53open. The last door at the end of the hall. Rohan? I choked out. I stepped closer, the floor groaning
08:01beneath me. The room inside was lit by a single candle sitting on a wooden table. The wax had melted
08:08down into a pool of blood red. Flies buzzed around a plate of raw meat, half-eaten. Rohan stood by the
08:14window. He didn't turn around. Rohan? I whispered again. He slowly turned his head toward me. His
08:22eyes were milky white. His lips moved, but instead of his voice, I heard something else. A whisper in
08:29my mind. You left me here? My throat tightened. No, I ran for help. I came back, Rohan, I swear,
08:37I came back. You left me to die. And now, you're here. Just like she said you'd be. Behind him,
08:45I saw her. The old woman. Emerging from the shadows like smoke, her white eyes wide and gleaming,
08:52her grin stretching unnaturally across her face. Her knife was still in her hand, but this time,
08:58it dripped with something fresh. Dark, sticky. She didn't walk, she glided. You shouldn't have come
09:05back, she hissed, her voice like dry leaves scraping together. But now, the house is awake again. The
09:12door slammed shut behind me. I turned to run, but the walls began shifting. Twisting, the hallway I
09:19came from stretched endlessly into blackness. The house wasn't just a house. It was alive. I backed
09:25into the room, shaking. Rohan was standing unnaturally still. I reached for him. But my hand passed through
09:33him. He was cold, hollow, like a projection, a memory trapped in time. The woman grabbed my wrist.
09:41Her hand burned like ice, and her grip was impossibly strong. I screamed and tore away,
09:47running blindly through the house. Rooms blurred by, hallways bent and twisted. The wallpaper bled,
09:53doors whispered, the floor groaned with hungry mouths. And the house whispered.
09:58One stays, one escapes, one stays, one escapes. I stumbled into the living room again, but it wasn't
10:06the same. There were pictures on the walls now. Faded photographs. I stepped closer. They were of
10:14children, dozens of them, boys and girls, all pale-eyed, all staring blankly at the camera. And in the
10:20center of each photo, smiling with her rotted teeth, was the old woman. My knees buckled. She had done this
10:27before. Over and over again. I turned to leave, and the front door was open. I ran. Outside, the field
10:35stretched endlessly. I kept running, not daring to look back, until the windmill was a whisper and the
10:41smell had vanished. I collapsed near a familiar hill. When I opened my eyes, the farmhouse was gone.
10:48Again. That night, I didn't sleep. I packed my bags and told my family I had to leave early.
10:54They didn't ask questions. But sometimes, in the deepest part of the night, I see him.
11:01Rohan. In my dreams. Still standing in that window. Still waiting. And sometimes, when the wind blows
11:08just right, I hear a creaking sound far in the distance. Like a windmill turning. Farmhouse.
11:15Part 3 The Curse That Waits. For years, I tried to forget what I saw. I moved far away from the
11:21countryside, changed schools, stopped visiting my relatives. But no matter how far I ran,
11:27the nightmares followed. Every few weeks, I'd wake up in a cold sweat, Rohan's pale eyes staring at me
11:34from behind that dusty window, the old woman's smile stretching wider than any human mouth ever
11:39should. But it wasn't just in my dreams. Strange things began happening. Photographs on my wall would
11:47fall in the middle of the night. My door would creak open by itself. Whispers echoed through my
11:53apartment. I started seeing that farmhouse, in my dreams, in my sketches, even in reflections,
11:59mirrors, puddles, the screen of a turned-off TV. The house was calling me back. And one rainy evening,
12:06I answered. I drove for hours, tracing old dirt roads and half-erased pads on a map my uncle once
12:12showed me. The land had changed, new developments, power lines, and factories had risen, but that
12:19patch of land was untouched. Isolated, as if the world itself had forgotten it. When I reached the
12:26clearing, it was there. The farmhouse. Crumbling, crooked, still whispering with that sickly wind.
12:33But this time, I came prepared. In my backpack, a small gasoline canister, a lighter, a camera,
12:40and an old letter I had found hidden in my uncle's attic. It was written by a farmer named Thomas
12:46Grady, dated 1912. She came after the war. Pale, barefoot, eyes like death. Said she'd been cursed.
12:54Said the land was hers. Children began to disappear after she settled in the old house.
12:59I tried to confront her. She smiled and said, One stays, one escapes. That's her game.
13:05The house must feed. I realized then, Rohan and I had been caught in her curse. And only one of us
13:12was meant to survive. I was chosen. He was not. Not by chance, but by the house. The door slammed
13:20shut behind me. They found Rohan wandering along a country road. Confused, dirty, but alive. He didn't
13:28remember everything, just fragments, shadows, the old woman, a house that whispered. He's with his
13:35family now, living a quiet life. As for me? I'm here. In the house. Writing this from a dusty desk
13:43by a candle's flicker. Sometimes, I hear voices in the walls. Children laughing, screaming, crying.
13:51The house still whispers. One stays, one escapes. Soon, someone will come. Maybe a lost traveler,
13:59a foolish teenager. Maybe someone looking for me. When they do. I'll be waiting at the window.
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