Toe by Neal O’Bryan & Chad Thurman

Toe by Neal O’Bryan & Chad Thurman: A Creeping Stop-Motion Horror Short

The stop-motion horror short Toe, released on ALTER’s YouTube channel, is a masterclass in minimalist dread. Clocking in at just under seven minutes, the film proves that effective horror doesn’t require elaborate mythology or excessive exposition—only a strong atmosphere, patient pacing, and a commitment to unease.

Inspired by classic folklore horror, Toe adapts the familiar structure of a cautionary tale into a tactile, handmade nightmare. The story follows a starving young boy who discovers a severed human toe protruding from the ground. Driven by desperation, he cooks and eats it. What follows is not a frantic chase or explosive confrontation, but something far more unsettling: the slow, inevitable return of the dead, coming to reclaim what was taken.

What immediately sets Toe apart is its restraint. Dialogue is nearly nonexistent, leaving sound design and visuals to carry the story. Wind, creaking floorboards, and distant footsteps create a suffocating sense of isolation. The environments are sparse and desaturated, reinforcing the boy’s hunger and vulnerability while giving the world a cold, unforgiving quality.

The stop-motion animation is deliberately imperfect, leaning into the medium’s inherent stiffness and irregularity. This choice becomes especially effective when the corpse appears. Its movements are slow, unnatural, and deeply uncanny—something that feels wrong in a way only stop motion can achieve. Rather than fighting against the medium’s limitations, the filmmakers embrace them, allowing the animation itself to become a source of horror.

The creature’s repeated demand for its missing toe echoes the rhythm of a campfire story, recalling the folklore roots of “The Big Toe,” famously included in Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. Like its literary inspiration, Toe thrives on repetition and inevitability. Once the rule is broken, the consequence must follow. There is no moral speech, no redemption, and no escape—only the quiet arrival of something that was always coming.

Production-wise, Toe is the result of a lengthy, labor-intensive stop-motion process, reportedly created over many months while the filmmakers balanced other work. That dedication is visible in the film’s tactile puppets, grimy textures, and carefully staged compositions. Every frame feels considered, yet never overly polished, preserving a rawness that enhances the horror.

ALTER’s platform has become known for showcasing short-form horror that pushes tone and atmosphere over conventional scares, and Toe fits squarely within that curatorial vision. It’s a film that lingers not because of what it shows, but because of what it suggests. The horror unfolds slowly, quietly, and without apology.

In the end, Toe feels less like a modern short film and more like an old story unearthed—something passed down, reshaped, and told again using wire, clay, and shadows. It’s a stark reminder of how powerful stop motion can be when paired with folklore, patience, and a willingness to let discomfort breathe.