Contents
About Prompt
- Prompt Type – Scene-by-Scene
- Prompt Platform – Google Veo
- Language – English
- Category – Video/Story
- Prompt Title – VEO 3 Prompt for Horror Short Story – The Whispering Wall
Prompt Details
🎬 Scene 1
The scene opens into a cavernous, sun-drenched room, suffused with the golden light of late afternoon pouring through a large, grimy bay window. Dust motes, disturbed by recent movement, dance like tiny, incandescent sprites in the thick, honeyed shafts of sunlight, creating a dreamlike, almost sacred atmosphere of new beginnings. This is a house holding its breath, a place of forgotten histories now being tentatively reclaimed. The air smells of old paper, dried lavender, and the faint, earthy scent of damp plaster. Cardboard boxes, scrawled with black marker—’KITCHEN’, ‘BOOKS’, ‘FRAGILE’—are stacked in precarious towers, forming a makeshift labyrinth in the centre of the room. The floorboards, wide and made of dark, aged oak, creak with a gentle, sonorous groan under every footstep, each sound an echo of the past. The walls are a story in themselves, covered in faded, peeling damask wallpaper, a once-opulent pattern of vines and florid blooms now a ghostly tracery of its former glory. In one corner, the paper has been torn away, revealing the raw, skeletal lath and plaster beneath. This is where we find CHLOE. She is a portrait of focused curiosity, her body angled towards the far wall, a canvas of uninterrupted, strangely preserved wallpaper. Unlike the rest of the room, this section seems almost untouched by time, the pattern darker, more intricate. She moves with a dancer’s grace, her fingertips trailing lightly across the surface, exploring the raised, velvety texture of the pattern. The camera is positioned low, looking up at her, making her seem both vulnerable and commanding in this new, vast space. Her expression is one of quiet contemplation, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she imagines a future here. LIAM enters the frame from the right, carrying another heavy box. He pauses, his presence grounding the ethereal quality of the scene. He watches Chloe for a moment, a look of deep affection softening his features. The contrast between them is palpable: her artistic reverie and his practical, solid presence. The light catches the auburn highlights in her hair, setting it ablaze, while he remains partially in the soft shadows cast by the stacks of boxes. The world outside the window is a blur of green leaves and distant rooftops, creating a sense of intimate isolation, as if this room is their entire universe. The silence is not empty but filled with the house’s gentle respiration, a soft symphony of settling dust and groaning wood, a peaceful prelude to the story about to unfold.
🎵 Tone: Hopeful, gentle, with a subtle hint of unease
🎬 Scene 2
Night has fallen, draping the room in a heavy cloak of deep indigo and impenetrable shadow. The only source of light is the cold, ethereal glow of the full moon filtering through the same large bay window, its silvery light stripping the room of its daytime warmth and revealing a stark, skeletal geometry. The stacks of boxes now look like monolithic tombs, their familiar shapes rendered alien and menacing in the darkness. The air is still and cold, carrying the chill of an old, uninhabited space. We find Chloe standing before the same wall, a solitary figure bathed in moonlight. She is wearing a simple white nightgown, which makes her appear ghostly, almost translucent against the oppressive darkness. She is motionless, her posture rigid, her head cocked to one side as if listening to a sound no one else can hear. Her bare feet are pale against the dark oak floorboards. The camera begins as a wide shot, emphasizing her isolation in the vast, empty room, before beginning an impossibly slow, creeping dolly zoom towards her back. The movement is so gradual it’s almost imperceptible, creating a powerful sense of dread and intrusion, as if an unseen entity is approaching her. She raises a trembling hand and presses her ear flat against the wallpaper. The texture of the damask pattern is thrown into sharp relief by the moonlight, the velvety flocking looking like intricate, dark veins against a paler, skin-like surface. Her breath fogs slightly in the cold air. Liam appears in the doorway, a silhouette against the faint light from the hallway. He doesn’t speak at first, just watches, his concern a palpable presence in the silence. The scene is devoid of warmth, the colour palette reduced to a chilling monochrome of blues, silvers, and deep blacks. The very fabric of the house seems to have changed with the setting of the sun, its gentle daytime sighs replaced by a profound, watchful silence that feels heavy and expectant. The moon casts a perfect, sharp-edged square of light on the floor, and Chloe stands just at its edge, half in light, half in shadow, a perfect visual metaphor for her descent into the house’s mystery. Every detail is sharp and cold: the glint of a nail head in the floor, the delicate fringe of her eyelashes, the subtle tremor in her hand pressed against the wall.
🎵 Tone: Eerie, suspenseful, mysterious
🎬 Scene 3
The scene is a claustrophobic close-up, a tight, intimate frame that suffocates the viewer. We are focused entirely on Chloe’s ear pressed against the wall, her pale skin contrasting sharply with the dark, velvety damask wallpaper. The camera is so close that we can see the fine, downy hairs on her cheek, the intricate, labyrinthine whorls of her ear, and the detailed, almost organic texture of the wallpaper. The flocking of the pattern seems to pulse subtly, a trick of the low light, as if it were a living membrane breathing against her skin. Dust motes, invisible in the previous scene’s darkness, now drift lazily in a single, focused beam of light from an unseen source, perhaps a sliver of moonlight from a crack in the curtains. This tight focus creates an intense, uncomfortable intimacy, forcing the audience into Chloe’s subjective experience. Her eye, visible at the edge of the frame, is wide and unblinking, reflecting a tiny, distorted image of the room behind her. It’s a window into her mind, revealing a terrifying fusion of fascination and burgeoning horror. The whispers are no longer a faint, indistinct murmur but have gained a chilling clarity. They are layered, a cacophony of disembodied voices overlapping in a dissonant chorus of secrets and sorrows. We hear fragments: ‘…he never loved you…’, ‘…buried it under the hearth…’, ‘…she saw everything…’. The voices are dry and papery, like dead leaves skittering across pavement. As she listens, the wallpaper pattern itself seems to respond. In a horrifying, almost imperceptible CGI effect, the floral and vine motifs begin to slowly, sinuously writhe. The lines twist and re-form, the elegant curves of the damask momentarily suggesting gaunt, screaming faces, their silent mouths agape, before resolving back into the original pattern. It’s a ‘did I just see that?’ moment, designed to unsettle both Chloe and the audience. The colour palette is sickly and desaturated, tinged with a murky green, as if viewed through stagnant water. The only point of warmth is the faint flush in Chloe’s cheek, a sign of her life and vitality being leeched away by the wall’s chilling confessions. The focus racks slowly, shifting from the sharp detail of her ear to the wallpaper behind it, making the pattern momentarily the dominant subject before snapping back to her, reinforcing the parasitic relationship forming between them.
🎵 Tone: Claustrophobic, horrifying, hypnotic
🎬 Scene 4
The scene is framed through a dusty, antique cheval mirror that stands opposite the whispering wall. The mirror’s silvering is tarnished and beginning to flake, creating dark, web-like patterns around the edges that distort the reflection and add a layer of decay to the image. This framing device creates a sense of detached observation, as if we are spying on a private, deteriorating world. In the reflection, we see Chloe. She is no longer just listening; she is a devotee at a malevolent altar. She sits on the floor, her back to us, her body curled towards the wall. Her white nightgown is rumpled, and her beautiful auburn hair is unkempt, hanging in limp strands. The moonlight has been replaced by the cold, sterile blue light of pre-dawn, which casts a deathly pallor over everything. The most disturbing detail is Chloe’s reflected face. Her skin is sallow, her eyes are wide, sunken, and shadowed with dark circles, possessing a feverish, obsessive glint. Her lips are slightly parted, moving silently as she perhaps repeats the whispers back to the wall. She looks gaunt, as if the wall has been feeding on her vitality. The camera holds steady on this reflection, allowing the horror of her transformation to sink in. Liam is also in the reflection, standing in the doorway behind her. He looks haggard, his face etched with sleeplessness and a profound, helpless fear. He isn’t angry anymore; he’s terrified for her. He holds a steaming mug of tea, a mundane object that seems utterly absurd and out of place in this tableau of supernatural obsession. The gesture of care is rendered impotent by the sheer strangeness of the situation. He takes a hesitant step forward, and his reflection ripples slightly due to an imperfection in the old glass. In the background of the reflection, the wall itself appears to breathe. The shadows cast by the complex damask pattern seem to deepen and lighten in a slow, rhythmic pulse, perfectly in time with the low, thrumming heartbeat we’ve heard before. The whispering is now a constant, seductive murmur, a venomous lullaby promising forbidden knowledge and dark truths, just on the edge of intelligible. The room reflected in the mirror seems subtly different from the real room—the shadows are deeper, the angles slightly more skewed, suggesting that the mirror is showing a more truthful, more horrific version of reality.
🎵 Tone: Disturbing, psychological horror, tragic
🎬 Scene 5
The scene explodes with sudden, desperate action, shattering the hypnotic stillness of the previous moments. The camera is now handheld, close and frantic, thrown into the midst of a struggle between Liam and Chloe. It whips back and forth between their faces, capturing the raw, visceral emotion of the confrontation. Liam has grabbed Chloe by her upper arms, trying to physically haul her away from the wall. His face, seen in a tight, canted close-up, is a mask of desperation and fear. Sweat beads on his forehead, his jaw is clenched, and his eyes plead with her. Chloe resists with a shocking, unnatural strength. Her face, when the camera swings to her, is contorted into a snarl of pure malice. It’s a shocking transformation; her gentle features are twisted, her green eyes burning with a cold, alien fury. She is no longer the Chloe he knows. She claws at his hands, her movements feral and jerky, like a puppet being controlled by a malevolent force. The lighting is harsh and erratic, as if a bare bulb is swinging overhead, casting dynamic, dancing shadows that make the struggle seem even more chaotic. As they fight, the wallpaper behind them undergoes a horrifying and undeniable metamorphosis. This is no longer a subtle, ‘did I see that?’ effect. The dark, damask patterns are now visibly and fluidly writhing like a nest of black snakes. Within the swirling vines and flowers, distinct, three-dimensional faces begin to form, their features molded from the very fabric of the wall. They are elongated, skeletal visages with hollow eyes and gaping mouths, silently screaming. They push against the surface of the paper, their spectral forms stretching it taut, threatening to break through. The whispers escalate dramatically, losing their seductive quality and becoming a chorus of angry, accusatory hisses and snarls that seem to come from all directions at once, enveloping the couple in a vortex of sound. The camera work reflects the chaos, using whip pans, Dutch angles, and rapid, jarring cuts between Liam’s panicked face, Chloe’s possessed expression, and the terrifyingly active wallpaper. The very air seems to crackle with malevolent energy. It’s a scene of pure, adrenaline-fueled terror, the moment where psychological dread tips over into physical, supernatural assault.
🎵 Tone: Chaotic, violent, terrifying
🎬 Scene 6
The chaos of the struggle abruptly ceases, replaced by a moment of dread-filled stillness. The camera is now locked off, a static, objective observer to an unspeakable violation of natural law. It’s an extreme close-up on a section of the whispering wall. The frame is filled entirely with the grotesque texture of the damask wallpaper. The previous, fleeting visions of faces are gone, the pattern has settled, but it is hideously changed. The velvety flocking now appears moist and porous, like diseased skin, and the paler background has taken on a fleshy, translucent quality, faintly pulsing with a network of dark, vein-like lines beneath the surface. The lighting is sickly and green, emanating from an unknown off-screen source, casting every unnatural detail into sharp, nauseating relief. The silence is profound for a moment, the angry whispers cutting off suddenly, leaving only the sound of Liam’s ragged, terrified breathing from just out of frame. Then, the horror begins. In the center of the frame, the wallpaper begins to bulge outwards. It’s a slow, steady, and utterly silent process. The surface stretches, becoming increasingly thin and translucent, the intricate damask pattern distorting over the growing protuberance. The bulge is organic, asymmetrical, like a tumour growing at an accelerated rate or a fist pushing from behind a rubber sheet. Fine trickles of ancient dust and plaster begin to cascade down from the swelling point, the only sound in the suffocating silence. The camera executes an infinitesimally slow macro push-in, drawing the audience’s eye to the epicenter of the bulge. We see the very fibers of the ancient paper straining, microscopic tears appearing as the tension increases. The light catches the moist sheen on the surface, making it look hideously organic. This is not just a haunting; it’s an invasion. The barrier between worlds, between the house’s history and the present reality, is literally being stretched to its breaking point. The scene is pure body horror, finding terror in the grotesque corruption of a mundane object. The lack of frantic movement or loud noise makes it all the more terrifying, forcing the viewer to watch, helpless, as the inevitable, awful birth prepares to take place.
🎵 Tone: Body horror, nauseating, suspenseful
🎬 Scene 7
The unbearable tension of the previous scene shatters in a climactic burst of supernatural violence. The camera remains in its tight, unflinching close-up on the bulging wall. The stretched, skin-like wallpaper, now translucent and slick, tears open with an abominable, wet ripping sound. The tear is not clean; it’s a jagged, fleshy wound in the fabric of the house. For a split second, there is only a glimpse of a black, viscous void within the wall, an abyss of absolute darkness. Then, a hand emerges. It is a thing of nightmares, a fusion of spectral energy and physical decay. It is skeletal, the bones a yellowed, ancient ivory, but they are draped in wisps of translucent, greyish ectoplasm that drift like rotted gauze. The joints crack and pop audibly as it flexes its long, needle-like fingers. The hand is not merely reaching; it is questing, feeling the air with a horrifying, deliberate slowness. The camera pans slightly, following the hand as it snakes out of the wall and moves towards the edge of the frame. In the periphery, we see a blur of white—Chloe’s nightgown. The spectral hand darts forward with impossible speed, its bony fingers wrapping around her arm. We get a glimpse of her skin, pale and fragile, against the decaying horror of the hand. At the exact moment the hand makes contact, the whispers return, but they are no longer a chorus. They have merged into a single, soul-shredding, deafening shriek—a sound of eternal agony and malevolent triumph that seems to physically shake the camera. The shriek is layered, containing the echoes of every voice that was trapped in the wall. In the background, out of focus, we see Liam’s silhouette lunging forward, a primal scream of ‘NO!’ torn from his throat, but he is too slow, too late. The spectral hand begins to drag Chloe, her body being pulled with impossible force towards the gaping hole in the wall. The scene is a chaotic, terrifying sensory overload, a whirlwind of horrific sound and imagery. The lighting flickers violently, strobing between the sickly green and absolute darkness, creating disjointed, freeze-frame images of the unfolding horror: the skeletal hand, Chloe’s terrified face, Liam’s desperate lunge.
🎵 Tone: Climactic horror, shocking, violent
🎬 Scene 8
An abrupt cut to dead silence. The horrific cacophony of the previous scene is gone, leaving a ringing, deafening void in its wake. The shot is a stark, static Dutch angle, tilting the world on its axis and visually representing the complete upending of reality and sanity. We are looking at the wall again, but it is pristine, whole, and unnervingly normal. The grotesque tear is gone. The wallpaper is smooth and flat, the damask pattern perfectly aligned and undisturbed. There is no sign of the struggle, no trace of the supernatural violation that just occurred. It is as if nothing ever happened. The room is bathed once more in the cold, indifferent blue light of the approaching dawn. The only thing out of place is Liam. He stands in the middle of the room, frozen, a statue of pure shock. He is framed off-center, small and powerless against the backdrop of the monolithic, silent wall. His body is rigid, his arms hanging limply at his sides. His face, seen in sharp detail, is a hollow mask of trauma. His eyes are wide, unblinking, staring at the spot where Chloe was taken, but they see nothing. His mouth is slightly open, a silent scream frozen on his lips. A single tear carves a slow, glistening path through the grime on his cheek. He is utterly broken. The camera begins a final, agonizingly slow zoom-in, not on Liam, but on the wallpaper behind him. As we get closer, a final, subtle horror reveals itself. Woven seamlessly into the intricate damask pattern of vines and flowers is a new element: the faint, ghostly image of a woman’s face. It is Chloe. Her features are distorted into a silent, eternal scream, her eyes dark, empty pits of despair. Her face is just one of many, we now realize, faintly visible within the complex design. She is not a separate image but has become part of the pattern itself, another secret absorbed, another voice added to the whispers. The camera continues to push in until her screaming, trapped face fills the entire frame, the texture of the wallpaper like a final, suffocating shroud over the screen before it cuts to black.
🎵 Tone: Bleak, hopeless, cosmic horror