Good Night Short Film Apr 2026

“Good Night.”

Emma’s hands shake. She tries to turn off the phone. The screen stays on. The voice continues, warm but now with a razor edge.

From the shadows in the corner of the room, a silhouette takes shape—not a person, but an absence of light. It has Emma’s posture, her exhausted slump. It steps forward.

Silence for three full seconds.

The app’s signature feature is —a guided sleep exercise led by a calm, maternal female voice (V.O.).

Emma throws the phone across the room. It lands face-up on the carpet. The voice echoes from it, louder now, coming from everywhere.

Emma, paralyzed, closes her eyes.

The clock glows red. Emma tosses, turns, punches her pillow. She picks up her phone, scrolls past doom, past memes, past exes. Finally, she opens a meditation app: SLEEPWELL .

Emma freezes. She did not say that out loud. She stares at the phone. The waveform on the app is still moving. She whispers: “What?”

Emma drifts… then jolts awake. She forgot to lock her front door. She gets up, locks it, returns to bed. good night short film

“You heard me.”

“You wanted to meet your demons in your dreams. I got tired of waiting. I’m the dark you’ve been running from. And tonight… you stay.”

Emma scrambles for the door. The knob is ice cold. She turns it—it’s locked from the inside. But she never locked it again. “Good Night

Logline: A lonely insomniac’s nightly ritual to fall asleep is shattered when the voice on her relaxation app starts talking directly to her —and refuses to let her wake up.