This storyboard was the first attempt at giving my previs a visual structure, and it shows how fascinated I was with perspective at that early stage. Almost every panel comes from a point of view angle or a very close personal perspective. It is completely different from what the final short film becomes, where the camera often takes a voyeuristic or low angle position that leaves more distance between the viewer and the characters. Still, this storyboard helped me understand the emotional language I wanted from the very beginning.
The opening panels show a hand gripping a photograph. The hand begins to shake and the photograph slips. That was the first time I tried to show emotion through a physical reaction rather than through a face or a line of dialogue. A hand can betray fear or hesitation in a way that feels honest. Even now, hands remain one of the most expressive parts of my characters and they often reveal more than any facial expression.
After the photograph falls, the ghost appears. This early ghost figure eventually becomes the demon in later versions. In these storyboard sketches the demon is always positioned above the character. The character looks up at it. Part of this was compositional. Looking up creates a strong frame, especially when the top of the panel is occupied by something threatening. The other reason was symbolic. Looking up at the demon was a way of showing the imbalance between them. The demon sits in a place of dominance, but there is also a strange sense of desperation in this early version. It hides above or behind the environment, almost as if it needs the person below to look up at the right moment.
There is a panel with a close up of an eye. At the time this felt like a creative way to show that the demon was striking without having to animate a full attack. It was a quick, sharp transition that communicated danger. Even though I moved away from that style later, the idea of using small details like an eye or a hand to represent sudden action stayed with me.
There are also moments where the demon tries to entice the main character, or at least draw them closer. This early idea of manipulation becomes much clearer later in the project when the father tries to communicate through the door and lure the child out. Even though the mechanics change, the emotional intention remains.
The storyboard itself is very bare bones, and looking back at it now I can see how loose the ideas were. Some of the panels are sketches of shots that never made it into the previs. Others evolved into something very different. But there are also small elements that stayed. The photograph, the upward gaze, the connection between perspective and power. These panels mark the moment where the project began shifting from a loose idea into something with visual identity. Even if most of the drawings were abandoned or reinterpreted, they helped me understand how to direct the viewer’s attention and how to build tension from nothing but a camera angle.
This storyboard is important because it shows the earliest version of how I thought the story should unfold. It is rough and simple, but it captures the first instincts that later became much more refined in the painterly version of the film.
1. POV framing in horror and the psychology of proximity
This storyboard leans heavily into POV and close personal perspectives, and that lines up with a lot of psychological writing on “embodied camera positions.” POV shots collapse the distance between viewer and subject, creating a shared vulnerability. A lot of early found-footage horror and even films like The Silence of the Lambs rely on this closeness to make the viewer feel watched while watching. Even though I later switch to voyeuristic distance, this storyboard helped me understand how proximity manipulates the viewer emotionally.
2. The expressive hand — animation theory and gesture studies
My focus on the photograph slipping from the hand fits into animation research on gesture as emotional truth. Animators often prioritise “micro-gestures” because they communicate intention faster than faces. Disney’s Illusion of Life talks about how hands act as extensions of thought. Looking back, this storyboard shows the earliest iteration of that idea – emotion expressed through tiny physical actions rather than dramatic poses.
3. Vertical composition and power imbalance
The demon sitting above the character relates directly to classical film language about “vertical power dynamics.” In visual theory, height equals dominance. German Expressionist films like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari used towering figures to express psychological oppression. My storyboard follows that logic instinctively – everything threatening is placed above, and the character’s upward gaze confirms the imbalance.
4. Threats that hide in the environment — expressionist staging
Placing the demon behind beams and structures links to expressionist staging, where the threat feels fused into the architecture. In Nosferatu, shadows become characters; in my storyboard, the demon lives in the background before revealing itself. This research point helped me understand why embedding monsters into the scenery feels psychologically heavier than simply showing them.
5. The “eye shock” trope and minimalistic attack indicators
The storyboard panel focusing on a close-up eye connects to a long tradition of “eye shock” imagery – a way to express violence or terror without animating the full action. Examples range from Psycho’s eye montage to anime’s symbolic eye flashes. This technique taught me that suggestion can be more powerful than explicit detail, something that still influences how I handle sudden beats in the final film.
6. Early manipulation motifs – horror as seduction
The demon trying to entice or lure the protagonist fits into horror research where monsters aren’t only predators, but seducers. The idea appears in folklore, religious texts, and modern horror like The Babadook. This storyboard unintentionally touched that lineage – the monster doesn’t just attack, it beckons. This became foundational later with the father luring the child through the door.
7. Sketching as “ideation scaffolding”
Storyboards aren’t final art – they’re what design theory calls “ideation scaffolding.” They let you explore compositions, beats, and emotional rhythms without committing to details. Research into animation pipelines emphasises how storyboards often contain the emotional DNA of the final film even when the surface details change. That is exactly what happened here: the gaze, the hand, the power imbalance – all born here.
8. Using gaze direction as narrative logic
The character looking up at the demon fits into film research on “gaze theory.” Who looks at whom determines narrative power, vulnerability, and information flow. In horror, upward gazes often signal helplessness or revelation. Even in this simple storyboard, the gaze defined the emotional hierarchy of the scene long before the painterly style existed.
9. Photographs as memory triggers and horror motifs
The slipping photograph links to research on how photographs function in horror – they’re physical memory anchors. Works like The Ring and Hereditary use photos to expose emotional truths or family breakdowns. This storyboard version helped me understand that the photograph wasn’t just a prop; it was a trigger for everything that follows.
10. Early visual identity — the storyboard as the first “language draft”
This storyboard represents the moment the project gained its first visual identity. Film scholars write about how the storyboard is often the “first draft of the film’s grammar.” Even though mine was rough, it established the core ideas I never abandoned: tension built from camera angle, emotional storytelling through hands, and an antagonist that dominates from above. This research helps contextualise why this storyboard stage is historically important to the project.