Scars Are Doors

A pitch-dark room. No background music. Only slow breathing. A single dim bulb flickers.

A person stands facing the wall. Their back is turned to the camera. Absolute silence

except for breathing that doesn’t sound human. The camera slowly moves closer to

a long scar on the back of their neck. The scar looks old… but slightly wet. The breathing suddenly

stops. The scar twitches — not violently, just enough to feel wrong.

A faint whisper begins, reversed, unintelligible. The lights flicker

faster. The wall in front of the person shows a shadow. The shadow’s mouth

moves… The person’s mouth does NOT. The scar slowly opens just a little,