Contents
About Prompt
- Prompt Type – Scene-by-Scene
- Prompt Platform – ChatGPT, Grok, Deepseek, Gemini, Copilot, Midjourney, Meta AI and more
- Language – English
- Category – Video/Story
- Prompt Title – VEO 3 Prompt for Psychological Short Film – The Mirror Mind
Prompt Details
🎬 Scene 1
The scene opens within the suffocating quiet of a dimly lit room, a space forgotten by time and choked with the dust of solitude. The air is thick, heavy, and carries the faint, cloying scent of decaying paper and old wood. Motes of dust dance like spectral constellations in the single, frail beam of moonlight that trespasses through a grimy, curtain-veiled window. This solitary shaft of light illuminates an enormous, baroque mirror leaning against a wall of peeling damask wallpaper. The mirror’s frame is a masterpiece of forgotten opulence, carved from dark, almost black, mahogany into a riot of tangled vines, weeping cherubs, and sinister, leering faces, all coated in a fine layer of grey dust that softens their menacing details. The glass itself is imperfect, ancient, with faint silvery blemishes and subtle waves that hint at a liquid, unstable reality captured within its depths. Standing before this imposing artifact is ELIAS. His posture is a study in exhaustion; his shoulders are slumped, his head slightly bowed, as if the very weight of his own gaze is too much to bear. The moonlight catches the pale, almost translucent skin of his face, carving sharp shadows under his cheekbones and in the hollows of his eyes, making him appear gaunt and spectral. He stares intently at his reflection, a perfect, unnerving duplicate. Every detail is mirrored with absolute fidelity—the frayed collar of his dark grey sweater, the stray lock of dark brown hair falling across his worried brow, the subtle tremor in his lower lip. Yet, there is a profound disconnect. While Elias breathes, a subtle rise and fall of his chest, his reflection is utterly, preternaturally still, like a photograph submerged in water. It does not breathe. It does not blink. It simply exists, a static effigy of his sorrow, its hazel eyes fixed on his with an intensity that feels both vacant and all-seeing. The room around the reflection seems subtly darker, the details less defined, as if the mirror is not merely reflecting but actively absorbing the light and life from its surroundings, creating a pocket of perfect, dead stillness. The silence in the room is not empty; it is a presence, a humming, vibrating entity that presses in from all sides, amplifying the sound of Elias’s own frantic heartbeat and the shallow, ragged whisper of his breath. The camera slowly pushes in on him, the movement almost imperceptible, tightening the frame, trapping him between the viewer’s gaze and the unblinking stare of his own static doppelgänger, making the ornate frame of the mirror feel like the edges of a cage.
🎵 Tone: Mysterious, melancholic, tense
🎬 Scene 2
The unbearable stillness shatters, not with a sound, but with a silent, impossible gesture. Elias, driven by a desperate need to confirm reality, to bridge the chasm of wrongness that has opened before him, slowly raises his right hand. The movement is hesitant, a tremendous act of will, his fingers trembling as they navigate the cold, dead air of the room. He reaches out towards the mirror’s surface, his intention clear: to touch the cold, unyielding glass and feel the solidity of the world, to force his reflection into mimicry and restore the broken laws of physics. As his fingertips, pale and ghostly in the moonlight, draw near the surface, a mere inch from contact, the reflection—which I will now call ANOM—reacts. It does not copy the gesture. Instead, it flinches. It is not a dramatic recoil, but a small, sharp, deeply personal movement of revulsion. ANOM’s shoulders tense, its head pulls back slightly, and its eyes, which were once vacant, now narrow with something akin to contempt or fear. It is the reaction of a separate entity being touched without consent. The effect is profoundly jarring, a visceral violation of expectation. The air crackles with the sudden, terrifying implication: this is not a reflection. Elias’s hand freezes mid-air, his fingers splayed, suspended in the space between his world and the other. A look of pure, unadulterated shock washes over his face, his jaw going slack, his eyes widening in disbelief. The moonlight seems to intensify on the surface of the glass, making it shimmer like a sheet of black ice over an infinite abyss. The dust on the mirror’s frame seems to stir, disturbed by an unseen current. The intricate carvings of the frame appear to writhe and shift in the periphery of his vision, the leering faces twisting into expressions of mockery. The very fabric of the room feels as if it has been stretched taut and is about to snap. The camera captures this frozen tableau, focusing on the minute space between Elias’s trembling flesh and the cold, impassive glass, a no-man’s-land where reality has ceased to function. The silence that follows the non-action is somehow heavier and more menacing than before, filled with the deafening roar of Elias’s thoughts as his mind struggles to process the impossible event he has just witnessed. The world has tilted on its axis, and he is stranded at the precipice.
🎵 Tone: Shock, surreal horror, suspense
🎬 Scene 3
The dam of silence breaks, and a voice seeps through the cracks—a voice that is both his and not his. ANOM, the entity in the mirror, slowly straightens its posture, the previous flinch of revulsion replaced by an unnerving, predatory confidence. A cold, cruel smirk plays on its lips, an expression Elias’s own facial muscles have never formed. The smirk is a chilling distortion of his own features, making him look like a stranger, a predator wearing his skin. Then, it speaks. The voice that emerges from the glass is Elias’s own baritone, the same pitch, the same neutral accent, yet it is fundamentally corrupted. It’s as if his voice was recorded and played back through a broken speaker, layered with a subtle, cold digital reverb and a faint, almost imperceptible echo that makes the sound seem to emanate from a vast, empty space beyond the mirror. The words are not just heard but felt, a vibration that travels from the glass, through the air, and into Elias’s very bones. ANOM’s eyes, no longer vacant, are now filled with a sharp, malevolent intelligence. They glint in the moonlight as they lock onto Elias’s terrified gaze, pinning him in place. Elias recoils as if struck, stumbling back a single, clumsy step. His own hand, which was still hovering near the mirror, drops to his side as if it has been burned. He shakes his head in frantic denial, his breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps. The room itself seems to react to the voice from the mirror. The shadows in the corners deepen, stretching and writhing like living things. The moonlight filtering through the window takes on a sickly, greenish tint, casting the scene in an unnatural, diseased pallor. The peeling wallpaper seems to curl away from the walls, revealing glimpses of dark, damp plaster beneath. The ornate carvings on the mirror’s frame seem more pronounced, their leering faces now openly mocking his terror. The very air has become frigid, raising goosebumps on Elias’s arms. He is no longer just an observer of the impossible; he is a participant in a terrifying dialogue with a being that wears his face and speaks with his stolen voice, a voice that questions the very foundation of his identity and his sanity. The power dynamic has irrevocably shifted. Elias is the frightened, cornered animal, and the thing in the mirror is the calm, composed hunter, enjoying the slow, delicious unraveling of its prey.
🎵 Tone: Psychological dread, menacing, confrontational
🎬 Scene 4
As ANOM’s chilling proclamation hangs in the air, a profound and horrifying transformation begins, not in the room where Elias stands, but in the world confined within the mirror’s frame. The space behind ANOM, which was once a faithful, if slightly darker, reflection of Elias’s own surroundings, begins to decay and corrupt at an accelerated, unnatural rate. The illusion of mimicry dissolves completely, revealing the mirror as a window into a parasitic, decaying reality. The elegant, if peeling, damask wallpaper in the mirror world blisters and blackens, sloughing off the walls in wet, leprous chunks to reveal a latticework of weeping, moss-covered stone beneath. The sturdy wooden floorboards warp and rot, sprouting pale, ghostly fungi that pulse with a faint, sickly bioluminescence. The single shaft of moonlight that enters the mirrored room is no longer silver but a putrid, jaundiced yellow, illuminating an atmosphere thick with swirling, black spores. The antique furniture—a chair, a small table—crumbles into piles of termite-ridden dust. A large, dark stain spreads across the ceiling like a blossoming wound, dripping a viscous, black ichor that never seems to hit the floor, instead dissipating into a foul-smelling mist. Through all this accelerated decay, ANOM stands serene and untouched, a figure of perfect composure amidst the ruin. The grotesque transformation of its world doesn’t faze it; rather, it seems to draw strength from it. The sickly light from its world casts an unholy glow upon its features, making its skin appear waxy and its eyes gleam with a triumphant, malicious fire. Elias watches this surreal horror unfold, his own room suddenly feeling fragile and temporary. He is frozen, not by fear alone, but by a hypnotic, morbid fascination. His mind, already fragile, is fracturing under the strain of this impossible sight. The stark contrast between his own relatively stable, if dusty, room and the hellscape blossoming within the mirror creates a dizzying sense of vertigo. He feels the solid floor beneath his feet begin to sway, the walls of his own reality thinning, threatening to dissolve and merge with the nightmare world he is witnessing. The mirror is no longer a reflective surface but a portal, a festering wound in the fabric of his world, and the decay he sees is a reflection of his own mental and emotional collapse made terrifyingly manifest. He is looking at his own private apocalypse, and the calm, smiling figure of himself is its master.
🎵 Tone: Surreal horror, nightmarish, disturbing
🎬 Scene 5
Panic finally overtakes Elias’s horrified paralysis. His survival instinct screams, a raw, primal urge to reject the encroaching nightmare. He takes a half-step forward, his body language shifting from passive victim to desperate combatant. His hands are no longer limp but clenched into white-knuckled fists. His face, once a mask of shock, is now contorted with a mixture of terror and defiance. The words tumble from his mouth, not as a coherent argument, but as a desperate, fragmented plea to his own sanity. He is trying to rebuild the walls of his reality with words, to shout down the impossible truth that is staring back at him. His voice is raw and strained, cracking with the effort of denial. He points a trembling finger at ANOM, an accusation that feels pathetic and futile even as he makes it. In stark, chilling contrast, ANOM’s demeanor remains one of absolute, unassailable calm. The cruel smirk has softened into something even more terrifying: a smile of pity. It is a condescending, knowing smile that dismisses Elias’s entire existence as a trivial, temporary annoyance. ANOM doesn’t raise its voice. It doesn’t need to. Its quiet, reverberating words slice through Elias’s frantic shouts with surgical precision, each syllable a drop of poison designed to erode his resolve. ANOM cocks its head slightly, a gesture of mock curiosity, as if observing a fascinating but predictable insect caught in a jar. The decaying world behind it continues its grotesque ballet, the pulsating fungi casting shifting, lurid shadows across ANOM’s face, making its pitying smile seem to warp and stretch into a monstrous grin. The tension between the two figures is a palpable force, a vibrating string stretched to its breaking point. On one side, Elias, with his hot, chaotic, desperate humanity. On the other, ANOM, with its cold, orderly, and absolute inhumanity. The ornate mirror frame no longer looks like a cage for the reflection; it feels like the proscenium arch of a stage, and Elias is the tragic actor playing out his final, futile scene for an audience of one. The very air in Elias’s room feels thin and brittle, charged with a static electricity that makes the hairs on his arms stand on end. Every frantic word he speaks seems to be absorbed by the mirror, feeding the calm, silent power of his opponent, who simply watches and waits for the inevitable moment of his complete and utter collapse.
🎵 Tone: Desperate, frantic, psychologically intense
🎬 Scene 6
The argument ceases. The shouting dies in Elias’s throat, strangled by a new, more profound horror. ANOM, its pitying smile never wavering, decides the conversation is over. It begins to move, not within the confines of its two-dimensional world, but forward, towards the barrier that separates them. It raises its right hand, the gesture slow, deliberate, and impossibly graceful. This is not the hesitant, trembling motion Elias made earlier; this is an act of absolute certainty and power. The air in the room grows heavy, compressing, as if reality itself is holding its breath. ANOM’s hand reaches the inner surface of the mirror, and then, the laws of nature are not just broken, they are contemptuously discarded. There is no shatter, no crack, no impact. The glass surface ripples like a pool of mercury, the moonlight catching the fluid, silver distortions. ANOM’s fingers phase through the barrier as if it were nothing more than a curtain of smoke. The sight is fundamentally wrong, a glitch in the matrix of existence that sends a shockwave of nausea through Elias. The fingers that emerge into his reality are solid, corporeal. They drip with a silvery, viscous liquid that evaporates into a cold mist before it can touch the floor. They are his fingers, yet they are terrifyingly alien. They are pale, the nails perfectly clean, and they move with a serpentine grace that is utterly inhuman. The hand pushes further, followed by the wrist and then the forearm, the mirror’s surface sealing itself seamlessly behind the intrusion, leaving no trace of a breach. ANOM’s arm is now halfway into Elias’s room, a physical, tangible extension of the nightmare. It hangs in the air between them, palm up, in a gesture that is not threatening, but invitational. It is an offer of union, of surrender. Elias is paralyzed, his gaze fixed on the impossible appendage. He can feel the cold emanating from it, a tomb-like chill that leeches the warmth from the room. He can smell a faint, metallic scent, like ozone after a lightning strike. The boundary between the worlds has been breached, not by force, but with an effortless, casual grace that underscores ANOM’s absolute superiority. The fight has gone out of Elias, replaced by a cold, leaden certainty of his own doom. He is no longer fighting for his reality; he is simply a witness to its quiet, elegant dismantling. The predator has reached out of its cage, and the prey can do nothing but watch.
🎵 Tone: Climactic horror, surreal, inevitable dread
🎬 Scene 7
The sight of the disembodied arm, a physical manifestation of his own unravelling psyche hanging in the air before him, finally shatters the last vestiges of Elias’s composure. A raw, guttural scream tears from his throat, a sound of pure animal terror. He stumbles backward, tripping over his own feet, his limbs refusing to coordinate. He scrambles away from the mirror, crab-walking across the dusty floor, his eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on the impossible arm reaching for him. As he moves, a violent, disorienting flicker convulses the entire scene. For a fraction of a second, reality inverts. Elias finds himself inside the decaying, nightmarish mirror world. The floor beneath him is spongy with rot, the air is thick with black spores that choke him, and the walls weep with black ooze. Through the mirror frame, he sees his own room, clean and stable, and standing within it is ANOM, looking out at him with that same placid, pitying smile. The inversion lasts only for an instant, a single frame of film, but the psychological impact is devastating. Then, just as quickly, the world snaps back to its original configuration. Elias is back in his own room, ANOM is in the mirror. But the brief translocation has broken him completely. The flicker was not just a visual trick; he felt the squelch of the rotten floor, he tasted the foulness of the air. It was real. The boundary between the two worlds is now utterly permeable, a flimsy, flickering veil. The room around him begins to strobe, flickering rapidly between his reality and the mirror’s decay. The solid wall behind him is momentarily wet and crumbling. The floorboard he touches is for a split second soft with fungus. The moonlight through his window flashes from silver to jaundiced yellow and back again. The effect is nauseating, a full-scale assault on the senses and the mind. He is caught in a collapsing pocket of reality, and the two worlds are grinding against each other, trying to occupy the same space. His scream dies into a pathetic, whimpering sob. He curls into a ball on the floor, his hands covering his head, a futile gesture to block out the sensory chaos and the horrifying, inescapable truth that his world, his reality, and his very self are being overwritten.
🎵 Tone: Peak horror, chaotic, terrifying, disorienting
🎬 Scene 8
The chaos subsides. The strobing stops, the deafening noise recedes, leaving behind only the soft, melancholic piano melody from the beginning, as if it is the only thing that has survived the psychic cataclysm. The room is still, silent, and returned to its original state, bathed in the gentle, mournful moonlight. The camera is now in an extreme close-up on Elias’s face. He is no longer on the floor but standing once again before the mirror, his posture unnaturally rigid. His face is pale, waxen, and utterly devoid of expression. The terror, the desperation, the fight—it has all been scoured away, leaving behind a terrifying emptiness. A single, perfect tear escapes from the corner of his left eye and traces a slow, glistening path down his cheek. It is the last vestige of the man he was, a final, silent admission of defeat. His eyes, once wild with fear, are now dull, vacant, and fixed on his own reflection. But the reflection is no longer there. The mirror shows only the empty, decaying room behind him, a window into a world he now belongs to. The camera begins a slow, deliberate pan, moving from Elias’s tear-streaked, empty face to the space directly behind him. Standing there, in the real room, is ANOM. It has fully emerged. It is solid, real, and its presence radiates a chilling, triumphant calm. It is dressed identically to Elias, its appearance a perfect match, but its bearing is entirely different. It stands tall, relaxed, and in complete control. Slowly, it raises a hand—not with menace, but with a gesture of ownership, of finality. It places its hand gently on Elias’s shoulder. The touch is not violent; it is almost tender, a gesture of consolidation. At the moment of contact, the last flicker of light in Elias’s eyes extinguishes. His body goes completely limp, a puppet with its strings cut, held up only by the firm, proprietary grip of his doppelgänger. ANOM leans in close, its lips near Elias’s ear, as if to whisper a final secret. The film ends on this disturbing tableau: the triumphant original and the hollow, conquered copy, now a permanent resident in a world that is no longer his. The melancholic piano plays its final, lingering note and fades into a profound, eternal silence. The usurpation is complete.
🎵 Tone: Tragic, unsettling, resolved dread