The Conjuring Universe has no shortage of terrifying figures, but one entity stands out with bone-chilling intensity: Valak, better known as The Nun. Clad in a black habit and radiating malevolence from every inch of her pale, twisted face, The Nun doesn’t just haunt churches and abbeys—she crawls deep into your subconscious, where darkness clings and prayers feel hollow. Ever since her first spine-tingling appearance, this demonic force has cemented her place as one of horror’s most visually disturbing and spiritually unholy icons. But beyond the jump scares and flickering candles, The Nun thrives in moments of pure dread—scenes that linger, that stalk you long after the lights are on. Here are the top 10 creepiest moments that prove The Nun isn’t just another demon—she’s the embodiment of fear in holy disguise.
#10: The Painting
It’s the moment that made audiences across the globe grip their armrests tighter: Lorraine Warren walking through the hall of the Warren household, drawn to a room where a foreboding painting of The Nun hangs in grim silence. The way the camera follows Lorraine into that dimly lit room, with only the ambient light and our own breath for company, sets the stage for one of The Conjuring 2’s most iconic sequences. The painting itself is grotesque—The Nun rendered in nightmarish detail, her yellow eyes practically glowing from the canvas. Lorraine, determined to confront the dark presence she senses, slowly approaches it, her own shadow cast over the grotesque visage. Then, without warning, the shadow moves—detaching itself from Lorraine, gliding along the wall independently until it aligns with the painting, and suddenly, the figure steps out. The transition is seamless, horrifying, and executed with masterful restraint. What makes this scene so chilling isn’t just the visual horror of The Nun emerging from the painting—it’s the buildup, the idea that this demon can manipulate the very perception of reality. James Wan knew exactly how to play with shadows, and here he crafts a moment that relies not on a sudden shriek of violins, but on psychological torment. Audiences were already unsettled by the idea of The Nun watching from the wall. Watching her step out of that frame was the stuff of pure nightmare. Interestingly, this moment wasn’t even in the original script—it was added during reshoots when Wan felt the film needed a more haunting centerpiece for Valak. Talk about a late addition that changed horror history. Even now, that image of The Nun gliding through the dark with unblinking eyes is burned into the minds of fans. It showed us that this wasn’t a demon content to lurk in shadows—she was the shadows. And stepping out of that painting, she wasn’t just breaking into Lorraine’s world—she was stepping into ours.
#9: The Abbey’s Hanging Nun
In The Nun (2018), before the film really throws us into the depths of its gothic horrors, it delivers an image so stark and unsettling that it instantly sets the tone: the hanging nun outside the abbey. When Sister Victoria commits suicide by throwing herself from a window with a noose tied around her neck, it’s framed as a desperate act—a self-sacrifice to keep something evil from escaping. That “something,” of course, is Valak. But what makes this moment so creepy isn’t just the hanging body—though that in itself is disturbing—it’s what comes after. As Father Burke and Sister Irene arrive to investigate the mysterious death, they find the corpse still hanging, gently swaying in the fog. The setting is eerie enough: an isolated abbey in rural Romania, surrounded by mist, ruins, and silence. But the moment Father Burke approaches the lifeless nun and the body violently shifts, opening its eyes or twitching ever so slightly, sends a cold shiver up the spine. It’s a chilling visual reminder that in this world, even the dead don’t rest easy. This moment is one of the earliest indicators that Valak’s influence has already seeped into every corner of the abbey. The idea that the nuns are trapped, some dying horribly to protect others, sets a grim and oppressive tone for the rest of the film. It also establishes the theme of religious fear—not just faith being tested, but faith being overwhelmed by something evil masquerading as holy. The image of the hanging nun quickly became one of the most haunting visuals from the entire Conjuring Universe and has been used in posters, teasers, and fan art ever since. It’s a moment that doesn’t rely on jump scares—it’s about the weight of what’s unseen, about death as a last defense against something worse. And it told us everything we needed to know: Valak doesn’t just want to terrify. She wants to desecrate.
#8: The Corridor of Crosses
Later in The Nun, one of the most unnerving sequences unfolds as Sister Irene follows a trail of faint whispers into a dark, narrow corridor lined with dozens—if not hundreds—of crucifixes. It’s a place meant to repel evil, yet here, it feels almost like a trap. As Irene moves deeper into the corridor, the silence grows more pronounced. The crucifixes begin to turn. Slowly, one by one, they spin upside down in near-silent defiance of God. The whispering intensifies. The temperature drops. And suddenly, The Nun is there darting from the shadows in unnatural bursts of movement, her face twisting with unholy malice. What makes this moment so powerful is the contradiction: crucifixes, universally recognized symbols of protection and purity, are turned against the characters. Valak doesn’t fear these symbols. She mocks them. She distorts them. The fact that they’re shifting on their own—without fanfare, without loud noises—is somehow even more terrifying than a conventional scare. It suggests the very rules of the sacred space have been rewritten. This corridor scene is a textbook example of how atmosphere trumps cheap thrills. It plays with light, with silence, and with our expectations. We expect salvation in a corridor of crosses. What we get is spiritual suffocation. The hallway becomes a liminal space—a purgatory where God’s power flickers and Valak’s grows. For many fans, this scene solidified The Nun’s aesthetic strength: it may have had its critics, but visually, it delivers unrelenting dread. And when those crosses spin, it feels like the gates of Hell just cracked open.
#7: The Confessional Possession
One of The Nun’s most psychologically disturbing moments happens inside the confessional booth—a space traditionally reserved for absolution, reflection, and quiet conversation with the divine. Father Burke, riddled with guilt from a past exorcism gone wrong, seeks solace in the confessionals at the abbey. But the voice that answers him from the other side isn’t holy. It’s Valak. The voice starts soft, sympathetic whispering of past mistakes, coaxing the priest to reveal his deepest regrets. Then the tone shifts. It becomes accusatory. Mocking. The confessional, once a sanctuary, becomes a trap. The screen between Burke and the “confessor” bursts open, revealing not a fellow human, but The Nun herself—screaming, snarling, claws bursting through. It’s a violation of spiritual space, made all the worse by the slow realization that Father Burke, a man of faith, has been lured into a demonic ambush by his own guilt. What makes this moment unforgettable is how personal it feels. Valak doesn’t just scare—she knows. She listens. She waits. Then she attacks. The scene is a stunning inversion of religious comfort, turning confession into condemnation. It plays on the horror of being exposed, of your inner demons being weaponized by something worse. And as the screen explodes and The Nun attacks, we’re reminded once again: in this film, nothing is sacred.
#6: The Burial Alive
In one of The Nun’s most terrifying sequences, Father Burke is lured into the abbey grounds at night and falls into a pit—only to be suddenly buried alive. As the soil crashes down over him, the camera cuts to his perspective. We see nothing but darkness, feel nothing but panic, and hear his desperate gasps as the dirt seals him in. Meanwhile, above ground, Valak watches with malicious satisfaction. The burial is horrifying not only for its claustrophobic realism but for what it represents: being trapped, silenced, and forgotten. Burke claws at the soil, suffocating, powerless. But it’s not just physical—it’s spiritual. Valak’s goal isn’t to kill him quickly. It’s to bury him under the weight of fear, to isolate him in a living tomb. This moment taps into one of humanity’s oldest and most visceral fears: premature burial. Edgar Allan Poe would’ve approved. It also shows how Valak doesn’t just use shadows and visions—she uses the very earth itself. The tension of watching Burke struggle beneath the surface, his flashlight flickering uselessly, is almost unbearable. And when Sister Irene finally digs him out, it’s a moment of pure, panicked relief—but the damage is done. Burke is shaken, and so are we. It’s a reminder that in The Nun’s world, nowhere is safe—not the church, not the confessional, not even the ground beneath your feet.
#5: The Mirror in the Chapel
Among the most memorably eerie moments in The Nun is when Sister Irene finds herself alone in the chapel late at night. The room is dimly lit, lined with flickering candles that cast long, shaky shadows. She kneels in prayer, but something feels wrong—like she’s being watched. Across the chapel, a massive mirror reflects the space, including the back of her head… and something behind her. At first, there’s nothing. Then, slowly, The Nun appears. Not in the flesh, but in the reflection only. Her figure, black habit and all, stands menacingly just behind Irene. When Irene turns around, there’s nothing there. But in the mirror? Still there. Still watching. This moment is masterclass-level tension. The mirror becomes a portal of fear, a boundary between dimensions where Valak prowls freely. The true terror comes not from a jump scare, but from the realization that she’s always nearby, always watching—and sometimes the only way to see her is through warped reflections. This scene capitalizes on our innate distrust of mirrors, the sense that what we see might not be real—or worse, might be more real than what’s in front of us. Mirrors are symbols of truth and self-awareness, and here, Valak uses one as a trap, flipping the concept entirely. The ghost in the mirror isn’t showing you your soul. It’s stalking it.
#4: Possession in the Blood Room
Deep in the catacombs beneath the abbey lies a locked room known only to the oldest sisters. When Sister Irene and Father Burke finally gain access, they find it contains a relic of Christ’s blood, hidden away for centuries to keep the evil at bay. But evil has already gotten in. As Irene explores the chamber, she’s pulled into a nightmarish vision. Candles extinguish themselves. Whispers echo. And then Valak appears—rising from the pool of blood like some unholy baptism. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t lunge. She simply stands, arms outstretched, like a mockery of crucifixion. Irene is thrown backward, possessed briefly, her eyes rolling white as her body jerks violently in midair. It’s one of the film’s most visually arresting scenes, and it flips religious iconography on its head. This isn’t just a haunting—it’s a desecration. The blood of Christ, once used to anoint the room, is now a conduit for demonic rage. Valak doesn’t fear it. She weaponizes it. And for a moment, we’re left to wonder: can anything truly stop her? The idea that even the most sacred artifacts might not be enough is unsettling on a spiritual level. This scene leaves you shaken because it breaks horror’s unspoken rule—that holy relic equal safety. Not here. Not with The Nun.
#3: Lorraine’s Vision at the End of The Conjuring 2
Long before The Nun got her own film, she made her presence unforgettable in The Conjuring 2. Toward the film’s end, Lorraine Warren has a terrifying vision where she finally confronts the true identity of the demonic force plaguing her and Ed: Valak. In a vision inside her home, Lorraine is hurled into an alternate space—a long, gothic corridor ending in a doorway veiled in darkness. As she walks slowly forward, calling out, the shadows slither with menace. At the end of the hallway: The Nun. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t speak. She simply stands; her pale face barely visible in the gloom. Then, like a torpedo of evil, she charges Lorraine at inhuman speed. The sudden burst of movement after so much quiet is a gut punch to the senses. It’s a perfect bait-and-switch: the suspense of a slow, ghostly standoff suddenly snapping into a full-force assault. It’s not just a jump scare—it’s psychological warfare. The hallway sequence plays like a waking nightmare, pulling from the aesthetics of dreams where something terrible is coming, and you can’t run fast enough. Valak’s unblinking face, the silence before the sprint, and Lorraine’s panicked gasp as the demon barrels toward her—every second is perfectly orchestrated to shred nerves.
#2: The Demon in the Chapel Fire
In one of the climactic sequences of The Nun, Sister Irene enters the main chapel once again—but this time, she’s not alone. As she begins to pray, the doors burst open, and the candles blow out one by one. Flames erupt. The ground trembles. Valak appears in full force, her face twisted with rage, her hands raised as if commanding the fire itself. She doesn’t need subtlety anymore. This is open spiritual warfare. The chapel, once a sanctuary, becomes a battlefield. Irene is flung to the ground. Debris falls. The crucifix burns. And The Nun floats toward her, not with ghostly elegance, but with furious purpose. What makes this moment stand out is its sheer intensity. It’s not quiet. It’s not restrained. It’s apocalyptic. Valak no longer needs to hide in the shadows. She has declared dominion over the sacred, and this scene is her coronation of terror. It’s the moment we realize she doesn’t just want to scare or possess—she wants to dominate, to twist faith into fear and turn every holy place into her playground. In terms of spectacle, it’s the most dramatic Valak moment to date. But behind the visual chaos is a thematic core: what do you do when the place you were taught to feel safest is reduced to ash by something you can’t fight?
#1: The Final Water Ambush
The single most terrifying moment with The Nun doesn’t come from a jump scare or a floating ghost—it comes from a moment of false victory. At the end of The Nun, Sister Irene and Frenchie believe they’ve finally vanquished Valak by sealing her with the blood of Christ. The relic bursts, holy power floods the chamber, and for a breathless moment, it’s over. Valak’s scream fades. Her body disappears beneath the water. The room is still. But then—just as Irene gasps for relief—Valak strikes from below. Dragging her underwater in a silent explosion of chaos, The Nun wraps her claws around Irene’s neck, pulling her deeper and deeper into darkness. The camera shifts to Irene’s perspective, surrounded by water and blood, as Valak’s face materializes through the red haze like a demon reborn. It’s the ultimate sucker punch. Just when we thought we were safe, Valak proves she doesn’t play by cinematic rules. The sequence is suffocating, disorienting, and laced with pure panic. There’s no screaming. No exit. Just the quiet realization that evil always gets one last word. What makes this moment number one is that it captures everything terrifying about The Nun: her refusal to stay dead, her violation of holy victory, and her ability to destroy peace before it begins. It’s not just scary—it’s violating. And that’s what makes Valak unforgettable.
