I've always prided myself on being a filmmaker prodigy.
Last year, my film clinched the Pure Flame Award at the Ferland Film Festival. Several of my creations have already garnered awards, not just locally, but across different kingdoms - human, Dwarven, even Elven.
At just 20, I've got demon actors clamoring to be in my films. Studios are falling over themselves to hire me.
The anticipation surrounding my upcoming project has reached a fever pitch in the Morningstar Kingdom. The Demon Film Industry has pinned its hopes on me, with headlines proclaiming, "Amon Oblivion: The Savior of Our Entertainment Industry."
I'd be lying if I said I didn't revel in the adulation. My friends, family, and even I bought into the hype. After all, six critically acclaimed films speak for themselves.
But lately, there's been this... disturbance.
A new demon film has recently emerged, stirring up unprecedented excitement in the kingdom. Critics are divided - some hail it as a masterpiece, while others dismiss it as overblown and overrated.
Initially, I paid little heed to the buzz. Another hyped film? So what? But then I read something that made my blood boil.
It's downright insulting to read newspapers and magazines praising this upstart director: "He is the future of our industry. Even Amon Oblivion couldn't match him."
The audacity! I couldn't stomach such disrespect.
I might have swallowed my pride if it was a veteran director or another recognized young prodigy. But when I saw who it was, my fists clenched so tight they bled.
The filmmaker was none other than that infamous trash: Arthur Morningstar.
Yet these so-called critics dare to compare that garbage to me? To claim I'm nothing compared to him? Unbelievable.
It's utterly preposterous. Yet, despite my indignation, curiosity gnaws at me. I've decided to subject myself to this so-called masterpiece, "The Demonfather." I need to understand how a single film could eclipse my entire body of work in the eyes of these fickle critics.
Today, October 2, "The Demonfather" finally graced the screens of Abbadon City.
My hometown, Monarch Town, has always been a bastion of the arts - films, novels, you name it. Growing up in this entertainment hub only fueled my pride in my work.
I remained convinced that this so-called masterpiece by that upstart prince couldn't hold a candle to my creations.
My friends, family, and I chalked up the hype to its use of color - no doubt the result of that trashy prince pulling strings. But technology alone doesn't make a great film.
As I approached the Monarch Theatre, a familiar voice called out. "Amon. You're here." It was Chilli, a fellow filmmaker and friend.
I nodded in greeting as he continued, "We have a bit of a problem, Amon. Look at that line. Good thing you arrived early, or we'd be waiting for the next screening. Let's get in queue."
I followed his gaze, taken aback by the throng of people. Grudgingly, I fell in line with Chilli.
"People are really curious about a colored film, huh?" I muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
Chilli nodded. "For sure. It's like a human or elven blockbuster just hit the theatre."
I couldn't resist adding, "Hmph. I know for sure that the film won't be much to talk about aside from being in color."
"That's for sure," Chilli agreed. "After all, it was made by that infamous prince."
We waited impatiently to watch this much-hyped color film, and we were finally able to get a seat in the theater.
As the theatre dimmed and the film began, a collective gasp rippled through the audience. The vibrant colors splashed across the screen were indeed impressive.
Chilli leaned towards me, whispering, "Looks like the film industry is about to change once more." ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novelꜰire.net
I nodded grudgingly. "One thing I'll give this film credit for is the color. We'll finally be able to film in color soon enough."
We initially thought the color would be the film's only notable feature, but as the story unfolded, we found ourselves drawn in deeper than we'd anticipated. The conversations around us grew more intense, mirroring the depth of the narrative.
The film took us on an emotional journey. Laughter erupted when Don Corleone slapped Johnny. Tension gripped us during Michael and Enzo's hospital vigil. Fury boiled in our veins as Michael faced humiliation, only to be replaced by a dark satisfaction when he exacted his revenge.
To my surprise, I noticed Chilli wiping away tears at Sonny's death. Even I found myself invested in Michael's transformation into the new Don, feeling the weight of the family's fate on his shoulders.
The scene with Moe Greene's disrespect towards Michael had the audience bristling. Then came the old Don's death, followed by Michael's swift and brutal consolidation of power. The final scene, with Kay watching her husband surrounded by his men as the door closed, sent a chill down my spine.
As the credits rolled, the audience rose to their feet, applauding enthusiastically. Even Chilli stood, caught up in the moment. But I remained seated, stunned into silence.
All the work I had taken such pride in... it suddenly felt insignificant.
A new benchmark had emerged, one that I couldn't confidently say any of my films could match. No, even if I combined all my works, they still wouldn't measure up to what I had just witnessed.
Watching the crowd's jubilant reaction, I felt a deep sense of defeat wash over me. Without a word to Chilli, I stood and left the theatre, needing to escape the overwhelming atmosphere.
As I walked through the quiet lobby, the full weight of what I'd just experienced settled on me. The film's quality, storytelling, direction - everything about it screamed 'masterpiece'. I knew, with a sinking feeling in my gut, that "The Demonfather" was destined to make history.
It would be a blockbuster, not just in the demon realm, but worldwide. The realization hit me hard because since childhood, I had nurtured only one dream.
Not to be a powerful demon, not to become a renowned scientist, but to create the first demon film that would achieve worldwide box office success.
That dream, my lifelong aspiration, was about to be fulfilled. But not by me. Instead, it would be accomplished by the very person I had dismissed as a talentless upstart - the infamous prince, Arthur Morningstar.
I should be at the ticket booth of my own theatre, the Ferland Grand Theatre, handing out tickets to eager filmgoers. Instead, I've had to delegate that task to someone else. The queue wasn't moving when I was there - too many people recognizing me, asking for autographs.
I thought I'd gotten used to the attention after the Ferland Film Festival, but recently, it's escalated to a whole new level. The autograph requests have multiplied, photographers snap pictures without my consent, and journalists hound me for interviews at every turn.
All because of His Highness Arthur's film. Its success at the Ferland Film Festival was just the beginning - now it's taking the entire kingdom by storm.
Yesterday's box office numbers were staggering - an unprecedented 4 million dollars across 1,602 theatres in the kingdom. And this despite the criticism from numerous newspapers and magazines.
I heave a sigh, still struggling to wrap my head around the film's massive impact. When I accepted the role, I had no inkling it would lead to this. I just wanted to fulfill my childhood dream of being an actor and support Arthur's vision.
Now, as I watch the line snake around the block, I'm torn between pride in the film's success and a sense of being overwhelmed by the attention. The weight of unexpected fame sits heavily on my shoulders.
A group of teenagers spots me through the window, their eyes lighting up with recognition. As they rush towards the entrance, no doubt seeking autographs, I retreat further into the office.