บท 20: Ferland Demon Film Festival
Weeks of filming followed by two solid weeks of editing had left us all looking like we'd been dragged through the nine circles of hell. And now, with the Ferland Demon Film Festival (FDFF) looming just two days away, we were running on fumes and whatever passed for coffee in the demon realm.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, signaling the end of our marathon editing session, a cheer erupted in the studio. We'd done it. Three hours of demonic cinematic glory, ready for the world to see.
The team hugged each other, exhausted but elated. I couldn't help but overhear their tired mumblings:
"Sob, I thought our suffering finally ended when we finished filming. Turns out editing is much worse."
"You're right. It was so tiring."
"I kind of miss doing makeup for the cast."
"Now it's complete, I'm glad."
I had to bite back a laugh. If only they knew this was just the beginning.
After bidding farewell to my weary crew, I crashed hard, sleeping like the dead (which, in demon terms, is pretty impressive). I woke up at 10:00 PM, feeling like I'd been hit by a hellhound.
The studio was eerily quiet. Seems like the rest of the crew was either still in bed or just dragging themselves back to consciousness. It wasn't until 1:00 PM that everyone had finally trickled in, looking like they'd been through a war.
"Alright, guys," I said, once everyone was assembled. "Now that we've completed the filming and editing, it's time for the moment of truth. We're going to review the whole film."
A buzz of excitement ran through the group. Amazing how quickly exhaustion can turn to enthusiasm when there's a chance to see the fruits of your labor.
As we settled in to watch, I couldn't help but sneak glances at my team. Their expressions ranged from disbelief to awe as the film unfolded.
"We did... We did this film?" I heard someone whisper.
"I know, right? We're only two hours in, and it's so good."
I chuckled to myself. They probably thought we'd end up with something passably average. After all, what else could you expect from a bunch of inexperienced misfits led by an exiled prince who hadn't even finished high school?
But as the film played on, I felt a swell of pride. We'd done it. Against all odds, we'd created something... well, something pretty damn good.
"Well," I said as the credits rolled, "I guess we didn't completely mess it up, huh?"
The studio erupted in cheers and laughter. Rocky clapped me on the back, nearly knocking me over. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."
As the excitement died down, reality set in. We had a film. A good film, even. But now came the real challenge - getting people to watch it.
***
With our film finally complete, it was time for the moment of truth: submitting it to the festival. I found myself in the lobby of the FDFF headquarters, surrounded by a sea of hopeful filmmakers, each clutching their precious reels like lifelines.
The moment I walked in, all eyes turned to me. I could practically hear their thoughts: "Look, it's the exiled prince. What's he doing here?" Their stares ranged from curious to outright hostile. Great. Just what I needed - more pressure.
I approached the submission desk, where a bored-looking demon sat, his horns curled around a pair of reading glasses. His name tag read "Brimstone, Film Intake Coordinator."
"Name and film title?" he drawled, not bothering to look up.
"Arthur Morningstar," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "The film is called 'The Demonfather'."
At that, Brimstone's head snapped up, his eyes widening in recognition. "Morningstar? As in the exiled prince?"
I nodded, bracing myself for rejection.
To my surprise, a slow grin spread across Brimstone's face. "Well, well. This ought to be interesting. Alright, Your Ex-Highness, let's see what you've got."
I handed over our film reels, each one feeling like it weighed a ton. Brimstone hefted them, raising an eyebrow.
"Three hours, huh? Ambitious."
As he started filling out the paperwork, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was too easy. "Don't you need to review it first?" I asked, immediately regretting opening my mouth.
Brimstone chuckled. "Kid, half the fun of this festival is seeing what kind of train wrecks make it through. And a movie made by an exiled prince? That's too good to pass up."
I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or offended. But hey, we were in. That's what mattered, right?
As I turned to leave, paperwork in hand, Brimstone called out, "Hey, Morningstar!"
I looked back.
"Break a leg," he said, then added with a wink, "Or a horn. Whatever works for you demons."
As I walked out of the lobby, past the staring crowd of fellow filmmakers, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and dread. We'd cleared the first hurdle, but the real test was yet to come.
***
Two days flew by in a blur of anxiety and last-minute preparations. Before we knew it, the Ferland Demon Film Festival was in full swing, transforming the Indulgence District into a glittering spectacle of demonic glamour.
We found ourselves huddled at the edge of the red carpet, watching as a parade of demon celebrities arrived in vehicles that probably cost more than our entire production budget. The air crackled with excitement and the faint scent of brimstone.
My crew, bless their demonic hearts, were absolutely losing it. Their professional demeanor vanished the moment the first star-studded limo pulled up.
"Is that Lee from the Beelzebub acting family?! Lee!" George shouted, jumping up and down like an excited imp.
One of our makeup artists, a young demoness named Lilith, practically swooned. "That's Jonathan from the Lust Family!" Her eyes were so wide I was worried they might pop out of her head.
"You like that guy?" Mara, another crew member, scoffed. "I don't like him. I prefer Leonardo from the Jackson family!"
"Hmph. Jonathan is way more handsome than your Leonardo," Lilith shot back.
"At least he's not a lustful guy like Jonathan."
"That's natural. He is from the Lust Family."
"Heh. Heard he was having relationships with both women and men."
"That's a lie!"
I watched this exchange with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Here we were, about to premiere our film at one of the biggest events in the demon world, and my crew was gossiping like teenagers at a hellfire high school.
"Guys," I tried to interject, "maybe we should focus on—"
"Oh my Satan!" Rocky's voice boomed over the chatter. "Is that... is that Damien Darkflame?!"
I turned to see a towering demon with skin like polished obsidian step out of a car that seemed to be made of living shadows. The crowd went wild.
"Who's Damien Darkflame?" I asked, immediately regretting the question as every single member of my crew turned to stare at me in horror.
"Who's Damien Darkflame?" George repeated, sounding scandalized. "Only the biggest action star in the nine circles! How can you not know Damien Darkflame?"
I shrugged, feeling very much like the out-of-touch exiled prince I was. "Been a bit busy making a movie, remember?"
As my crew launched into a detailed explanation of Damien Darkflame's filmography (apparently, he was famous for his catchphrase "Hell hath no fury like me"), I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. We were small fry in a big, fiery pond.
But then I remembered our film. The Demonfather. Our labor of love, sweat, and probably a little too much ketchup. We might not have the glamour or the star power, but we had heart. And in the movie business, sometimes that's all you need.
"Alright, team," I said, interrupting the Darkflame debate. "Our time will come. For now, let's just enjoy the show. And maybe try not to drool too obviously over the celebrities, okay?"
They laughed, the tension breaking a little.
บท 21: The Demonfather
I couldn't help but stare at Damien Darkflame. The guy looked like he could be Brad Pitt's demonic ancestor. It was uncanny.
Truth be told, I'd never paid much attention to demon actors or films. Compared to the human movies, demon cinema felt... lacking. Even the trashiest human films of this world outshone our demonic offerings. It was a hard truth, but there it was.
As the celebrities preened and posed, fielding interviews and flashing fangs for the cameras, the festival's opening party kicked into high gear. That's when I noticed them - humans, mingling among the demons. They weren't just any humans, though. These were the big shots, the power players of the global film industry.
One of them, a human representative named Hughie Bear from a major film distributor, took the stage. The moment he opened his mouth, I knew we were in for a show.
"I'm here today to watch demon films," he drawled, his voice dripping with condescension, "to see if there's anything worth screening in my country. Though I wouldn't be surprised if there's nothing to see."
His human colleagues, along with a smattering of dwarves and elves, burst into laughter. The demons in the crowd, however, were a different story. They smiled and nodded, playing along, but I could see the discomfort in their eyes, the way their tails twitched with suppressed anger.
I couldn't blame them. As a demon, hearing that kind of talk was humiliating. But it wasn't anything new. We'd lost the war 400 years ago, and we'd been paying for it ever since. First, it was reparations for war damages. Now? We were just considered inferior.
Part of me wanted to be outraged on behalf of my fellow demons. But another part - the part of me couldn't help but agree with Hughie. Demon films did kind of suck.
"Can you believe that guy?" George muttered, his tiny fists clenched in anger.
I shrugged, trying to keep my voice neutral. "He's not entirely wrong, you know."
***
As the opening party wound down, the real meat of the festival began. The first film up was "Pure Succubus," a production from the big guns at Demon Pictures. Being part of the competing films ourselves, we scored free seats. Small victories, right?
The director and cast gave their spiel, all smiles and false modesty. Then the lights dimmed, and we were off.
I settled in, expecting another run-of-the-mill demon flick.
The lead actress, a real succubus playing a succubus, was paired with a C-list human actor from Empirica. Their on-screen chemistry was surprisingly compelling. The story followed the succubus as she fell in love and made the decision to change her ways, striving to become "pure" for her beloved.
But when they moved to Empirica, things took a dark turn. The succubus caught the eye of her lover's father, leading to a disturbing subplot of secret abuse. The film didn't shy away from the psychological toll this took on her.
The real gut punch came when her lover, who had professed his undying love earlier, rejected her after learning about the situation with his father. The film didn't spell it out, but the implication was clear - he blamed her, the victim, rather than standing by her.
The ending was a punch to the gut. Our protagonist, broken and disillusioned, returned to her old life as a prostitute. It was a tragic finale that left the audience in stunned silence before the applause began.
As the credits rolled, I found myself clapping along with the rest of the audience. I had to admit, I was impressed. This wasn't just good "for a demon film" - it was genuinely good cinema. It tackled complex themes, didn't shy away from difficult topics, and managed to evoke real emotion.
"Well," I muttered to myself, "looks like demon cinema just upped its game."
George, wiping a tear from his eye, nodded in agreement. "Boss, that was... wow. Just wow..."
***
Our big day was coming. Tomorrow, "The Demonfather" would screen - the first colored film in the festival, maybe ever. Not that the higher-ups knew that. They'd accepted us without so much as a peek at the reels. Their loss, our gain.
Today was all about the major studio flicks. Tomorrow? That was our time to shine.
I'd invited the whole cast to join us for the screening. As I arrived at the studio early the next morning, I was greeted by familiar faces. Firfel, Charles, Johnny - they were all there. And to my surprise, even the ever-arrogant Vivienne had deigned to show up.
"Well, well," I said, unable to keep the grin off my face. "Look who decided to grace us with her presence."
Vivienne rolled her eyes, but I caught the hint of a smile. "Don't let it go to your head, Your Ex-Highness. I'm just here to see how badly you've butchered my performance."
We made our way to the festival as a group, a rag-tag bunch of misfits ready to take on the demon film world. But as we approached the theater, we stopped short. There, larger than life, was our poster. "The Demonfather," it proclaimed in bold letters. And right below: "An Exiled Prince Film."
I felt my stomach drop. This wasn't how I wanted us to be known. But as I looked around, I realized it was having an effect. People were stopping, pointing, whispering.
"Unbelievable," I overheard one demon say to another. "That trash actually made a film. I wonder if it's as much of a disaster as the prince himself."
His companion snickered. "Maybe we should watch it. You know, for a laugh."
"Hehe, I'm interested," a third chimed in. "Could be fun to see how bad it is."
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Rocky, his face set in a determined scowl. "Don't let 'em get to you, kid. They'll be eating those words soon enough."
I nodded, squaring my shoulders. "You're right. Let them come. Let them expect the worst."
Firfel stepped up beside me, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and determination. "And then we'll blow their horns off."
***
The moment arrived. Our ragtag group - me, my crew, and our cast - stepped onto the stage. I could feel the weight of every eye in the theater on us. Skepticism hung thick in the air, almost as palpable as the ever-present scent of brimstone.
I cleared my throat, willing my voice not to shake. "As many of you know, this festival will be screening my first film. And many of you probably doubt this film of mine, but I assure you, you'll be surprised."
A voice from the audience cut through the silence. "Surprised? Yeah. We'll be surprised at how bad it is."
Laughter erupted, echoing off the walls. I felt my face heat up, but forced myself to keep smiling.
"Bad?" I shot back, trying to keep my cool. "You'll be eating your words later. Not only is the story of my film a masterpiece, but it's also in color!"
The laughter died down, replaced by a buzz of confusion. "Colored? You mean it's not black and white anymore?" someone asked.
A human in the audience spoke up, his voice laced with disbelief. "That can't be... Even in our country, no colored camera has been invented yet."
The murmuring grew louder. I thought I'd scored a point, but then a demon's snort cut through the chatter. "Who cares if it's really in color? If it's a trash film, it's a trash film."
"You're right..." others agreed.
I felt that familiar heat in my eyes, the same feeling I'd had when they changed color before. The urge to let loose, to show them all just how wrong they were, was almost overwhelming.
But then I caught George and Rocky's eyes. They gave me subtle nods, silent reminders to keep my cool. I took a deep breath, forcing the heat back down.
"Well," I said, somehow managing to keep my voice steady, "I guess you'll just have to see for yourselves. Enjoy the show."
As we left the stage and the lights dimmed, I felt a mix of dread and anticipation. This was it. No more talk, no more promises. It was time for The Demonfather to speak for itself.
The projector whirred to life, and suddenly, there it was. Our film, larger than life, in glorious color.
I heard gasps from the audience as the first scenes unfolded. Even in the dim light, I could see jaws dropping, eyes widening.
"Holy hellfire," I heard someone whisper. "It really is in color."
As the familiar strains of our Banshee Sisters soundtrack filled the theater, I allowed myself a small smile. We'd gotten their attention. Now it was time to blow their minds.
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