Chapter 10 - The Master of Monsters
Two years later.
The red carpet outside the Fox Theatre in Atlanta was blazing under hundred-kilowatt floodlights. Flashbulbs popped in rapid, blinding rhythms, and the roar of three thousand fans echoed off the historic granite walls.
It was the red-carpet premiere of The Swamp Bride’s Curse—a seventy-million-dollar gothic horror blockbuster where I served as Head Creature Effects Designer.
I stood near the main press backdrop wearing a tailored black tuxedo suit, holding a small silver trophy awarded earlier that evening by the International Horror Guild for Best Makeup and Creature Design.
Standing beside me, wearing an elegant dark emerald dress she had designed and sewn herself, was sixteen-year-old Madison.
She was listed in the official movie credits as Assistant Creature Designer: Madison Vance.
A red-carpet reporter pushed a microphone toward us, a camera crew tracking our every move.
“Harriet Vance!” the reporter beamed. “Your creature designs on this film are absolute masterpieces! The rotting bride gown is already being called iconic! How do you create monsters that feel so disturbingly real?”
I looked at the flashing cameras, then down at my niece, who offered me a knowing, confident smile.
“Real monsters aren't born out of rubber or latex,” I told the reporter, my voice smooth, clear, and utterly grounded. “Real monsters are created when people are allowed to act without consequences, when boundaries are broken, and when silence is bought with guilt.”
The reporter blinked, slightly startled by the depth of the answer. “And... how do you conquer them?”
I reached over, gently squeezing Madison’s hand.
“You stop paying for their mistakes,” I said. “You pick up the cracked pieces, you set firm boundaries, and you build something beautiful out of the work that remains.”
The reporter smiled, nodding approvingly. “Incredible. And what’s next for the Vance FX Studio?”
“Next,” Madison spoke up, stepping forward toward the microphone with clear, unshakeable confidence, “we’re building a ten-foot swamp demon with four eyes and three camera lenses.”
The reporter laughed, the cameras flashed, and the crowd roared with delight.
I looked up at the glowing marquee lights of the theatre, taking a deep breath of the warm summer air.
May you like
My cheekbone was smooth. My workshop was safe. My niece was whole.
And for the first time in my life, the monsters belonged entirely to the screen.
