October 2nd, 2026
The city buzzed with life under the cloak of night, its streets bathed in the warm glow of holiday lights. The air was crisp, filled with the hum of chatter and the distant echo of festive music that seemed to blend seamlessly with the atmosphere. It was as if the spirit of celebration was embedded in the very fabric of the evening, drawing people out to partake in its joy.
In the heart of this bustling tableau, a mother hurried across the street, herding her three children with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. The children tugged at her hands, their eyes wide with wonder and excitement as they begged to visit the toy shop that loomed tantalizingly across the park.
Nearby, an elderly couple strolled arm in arm, their faces etched with years of shared memories. They moved slowly, savoring the moment, while a donation Santa stood on the corner, his bell ringing out a steady rhythm as he collected coins and wishes from passersby.
At a small outdoor café, two young lovers shared a plate of pasta, mirroring the iconic scene from “Lady and the Tramp.” Their heads leaned in close, oblivious to the world around them, lost in their own bubble of romance. Across the way, a middle-aged man sat on a park bench, watching the world go by. His expression was bittersweet, a lone tear tracing a path down his cheek as he smiled faintly at the simplicity of it all. He seemed to carry the weight of memories long past, the music playing softly in the background evoking a nostalgia that was almost palpable.
From the newly renovated Hollywood Picture-Show Cineplex, a family emerged, their faces alight with post-movie exhilaration. As they navigated through the crowd, a man on a smartphone brushed past them, his voice strained with desperation. “Please, Roberta, don’t go…” He collided with a young businesswoman burdened with a stack of documents and a crying baby strapped to her back. Papers scattered, and the woman cursed under her breath, bending down to retrieve them while trying to soothe her child.
“Calm down, Harry, it’s going to be okay,” she murmured, though the tremble in her voice betrayed her own uncertainty.
In the background, the sounds of protest began to build. A group of demonstrators marched toward the town center, their voices raised in a chant that grew louder with each step. “We want to be seen. See us. Hear us. We are people too.” The protest swelled as more people joined, emerging from shops and cafés, abandoning their leisurely pursuits to take up the cause. What had started as a picturesque holiday scene was quickly transforming into a chaotic convergence of anger and activism.
Amidst this rising tide of discontent stood Arnie, a young man with a preppy look, his glasses slightly askew and his hair a mess. He checked his watch impatiently. It was 9:30 PM. “Where are you, Miranda?” he muttered to himself, scanning the crowd.
As if summoned by his words, Miranda appeared. She moved with a seductive grace, her bubbly smile contrasting with a strange, almost unsettling edge. “Hey, stranger,” she greeted him playfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Arnie startled, then relaxed into a grin. “Hey, Miranda, you scared me.”
She laughed, a light, tinkling sound that seemed at odds with the tension around them. “You’re white as a ghost, Arnie Maines.”
Arnie chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I thought you were getting here at nine?”
Miranda danced around him, teasingly running her fingers through his hair. “Aw, did the big bad wolf huff and puff and blow you all down?”
Arnie’s smile faded slightly. “You okay, Miranda? You seem… different.”
Miranda paused, her playful demeanor dropping for a moment as she looked at him intently. “What do you mean, hun?”
Arnie shrugged, trying to shake off his unease. “You just seem… different. Did you still want to go to the movies? I thought we were going to see ‘Dead as Dead’ tonight. It started at nine-fifteen though.”
Miranda blinked, as if coming out of a trance. “Oops, I guess it slipped my mind. You smell like life itself.”
Arnie frowned. “We should probably avoid all the protests… Wait a second… ‘smell like life itself?’ Miranda, are you on drugs?”
As Miranda swayed and danced with his arms, the moonlight intensified, casting eerie streaks of light through the trees. The protests escalated, the crowd’s anger feeding off the strange energy in the air. “Look into my eyes, Arnie,” Miranda commanded, her voice taking on a hypnotic quality.
“Miranda, I really think you should calm down. We only met a few days ago, and I just don’t know… I think we’re going too fast. Also, with all these protests going on, I think I should just go home.”
Miranda’s grip tightened on his face, her eyes boring into his with an unnerving intensity. “I said look into my eyes!” Her eyes shifted, glowing a terrifying shade of purple. Arnie tried to pull away, but her nails dug into his arm, sending a jolt of pain through him.
“Miranda, stop!” he cried out, his voice shrieking with fear.
Miranda’s voice grew more commanding. “Arnie, look into my soul and hear the call within you. Awaken tonight! On this full moon, you are not alone. Find your pack…”
As the chaos around them reached a fever pitch, Arnie felt a strange, primal force awakening within him. His body convulsed, a low growl rumbling from deep within. The ground trembled, and red beams of light and steam erupted from the earth, splitting the city square. Arnie’s eyes widened in terror as Miranda’s face morphed before him. Her delicate features twisted into something feral, her mouth extending into a muzzle as sharp fangs glinted in the eerie moonlight. He tried to scream, but his voice caught in his throat, strangled by the growing sense of dread.
“Miranda, I’m frightened…” he managed to whisper, his body trembling.
Around them, the city square descended into chaos. The young businesswoman, now with a wild glint in her eye, launched herself at a passerby, her baby still strapped to her back. An elderly man, previously walking arm in arm with his wife, now had a ghastly expression as he lunged at a nearby shopper, sinking his teeth into their neck. The lovers who had been sharing pasta were now locked in a brutal struggle, stabbing each other with their forks.
“You are one of us, and it is time you open your heart to the wolf’s cry,” Miranda growled, her voice guttural and animalistic.
Arnie fell to the ground, clutching his stomach as waves of pain surged through him. His body convulsed, bones cracking and reshaping, skin stretching and tearing. He let out a howl of agony that echoed through the night, but it was drowned out by the sounds of the surrounding madness. The earth cracked open even more, causing red beams of light to burst forth, forming columns of fire that blazed everywhere. Protestors screamed and fled, but many were too far gone, lost to the frenzy that had overtaken them. In the midst of the chaos, Arnie’s transformation continued. His face contorted, skull cracking and reshaping, until he too bore the wolf-like features that Miranda now had.
Miranda’s eyes sparkled with triumph. “Rise, brother wolf, and run with your pack!” she howled, her voice a chilling blend of human and beast. Arnie stood, now fully transformed, his senses heightened and instincts sharpened. He joined Miranda in a triumphant howl, their voices blending into a symphony of primal power. The city block erupted into flames, casting a hellish glow over the scene.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos, amplified by a bullhorn. “Gosh darnit, cut!!!”
The illusion shattered instantly. The rumbling stopped, the flames flickered out, and the protestors froze in place. The theatrical lights dimmed, revealing the staged chaos for what it was.
Arnie, still in character, howled once more before realizing the scene had ended. “Hey, what gives? I was really going somewhere,” he complained, turning to Miranda. “What the heck, Cindy? What’s going on?” he asked, addressing the actress beneath the wolf makeup.
Cindy, shaking off her character’s persona, replied, “I think it’s your prosthetics…”
Arnie, or rather Luke, touched his face, feeling the peeling edges of the makeup. “Crap! Meredith?” he called out.
From behind a tented area, Meredith, the on-set makeup artist, appeared, her British accent cutting through the air. “I’m really sorry, Luke. It probably started peeling from the pyrotechnics. Laurel said this might happen. We’ve got a second face ready to go.”
“Well then, fix it, Meredith,” snapped Mitch, the director, who was visibly agitated, his cowboy hat twisted in his hands. “Rachel!”
Rachel, Mitch’s assistant, appeared with a kombucha and a spiral straw. “I’ve got your ‘booch,’ Mitch,” she said dryly, patting his head with a napkin.
“Thanks, Rachel, you’re the best,” Mitch said somewhat calmed by the drink. But his agitation quickly returned. “Andy, you better get this all sorted out. I am going to my trailer. I need to calm my mind. Get me an ETA as soon as possible!”
Mitch stormed off, Rachel following with an exasperated expression. Meredith sighed, turning to Andy, the assistant director. “Just give us like 20 minutes.”
“Twenty minutes? We’re almost done for the night. This is the abby,” Andy protested.
“Fine, make it forty. You know Laurel, she will make this slower if you push her,” Meredith replied with a knowing smile.
Andy forced a grin. “Fine… Twenty it is…”
Meredith and Andy shared a quick kiss, their dynamic a mixture of professional efficiency and personal affection. Luke watched with a smile as Meredith led him to the makeup trailer, teasing Andy about being the good cop at home. “Believe me, at home, Andy’s the good cop and I am always the bad cop when it comes to the kids,” she quipped as they made their way to the door.
The makeup trailer was a hive of activity. Meredith tapped on the door three times, and it swung open to reveal the effervescent Laurel. “Yeah? Oh, hey Mare, and Luke, what’s up? Let me guess, Mitch’s ejaculation shot made the makeup fall off?”
“Bingo, babes,” Meredith replied.
“Give us like 20 minutes, Meredith.” Laurel was a super computer when it came to timing on set. She was a striking individual underneath the eccentric clothing and style. You could always tell with Laurel Lobo she was always special. Statuesque like a marveled model from ancient Greece, divine, but also human with age lines that made her relatable.
“Already told Mr. Grumpy Pants,” Meredith said cheekily with a whispery snicker. “He took it like a real man.” Laurel joyfully nodded, already mentally preparing for the task ahead. “Going to crafty. You want anything?” she asked.
“I’m good. Luke?” Laurel responded.
“I need a smoke,” Luke replied, not stepping inside. There were dreadful eye beams emitting from Laurel’s ruffled brow. “Come on, auntie, I know you hate it when I smoke, but I just need this for the edge right now,” he said, searching for his cigarettes.
Laurel rolled her eyes but relented. “I’m not going to judge you. Just make sure to spray something on before you come in the trailer.”
“Already on it. Let me just find that PA,” Luke said, however, as he turned around, appearing rather instantly was a young production assistant with an edgy haircut that had striking blue streaks.
“Hi Mr. Lobo!” Azul was spritely and full of energy. She dressed as if she were on a safari but in all black with embellishments of blue throughout her outfit. Although she wanted to appear professionally like others in the film industry it was hard to not notice her bubbly personality.
“Azul!” Luke yelped with surprise. “Of course, there you are, always popping in when I need you…”
“Sorry Mr. Lobo, I didn’t mean to surprise you again. I’ll be better about that.” Azul had a disappointing look hanging over her face.
“It’s fine. I’ll be back Auntie” Laurel gave Luke a wink as he walked away from the makeup trailer. Azul closely followed him. “Are you tagging along?”
“Well… Um… Yes…” Azul didn’t want to further annoy Luke. “Andy just wants eyes on you at all times in order to make sure we can get you back on set quickly.”
Luke wanted to shout, leave me the fuck alone, but he took a deep breath and pondered what to do next. “Could you get me a ginger ale?”
“Of course! Most definitely Mr. Lobo!” Azul beamed. Luke knew this was how to get a moment of silence. Azul was always ready to soar and capture whatever was asked of her.
“Thank you, Azul. And please just call me Luke. Mr. Lobo is my grandfather.” There was a hint of disgust as he said the word grandfather.
“I apologize, Mr. Lobo. Sorry, I mean Luke.” Azul was about to leave. “You know, Luke, it’s your grandfather who asks us to call you, Mr. Lobo.”
Luke stared into Azul’s eyes. “I know.”
Azul knew it was her cue to go and she walked toward the crafty area. Luke watched her walk away for a moment as the massive weight of his grandfather’s legacy sat on his shoulders. It never really ever left him but he grew up learning how to mask it. At this age of his life he knew what was expected of him and how ingrained it had become that he didn’t know any other way to live but be seen as the sole heir of the Lobo fortune. From the earliest memories of his grandfather it was constantly thrusted upon him that he would inherit the keys to the kingdom one day. Every friend, any person who came into his life, it was always the expectation of privilege and legacy that would dictate how everyone treated him. He forgot what it felt to be just a person in this world without the throne of his grandfather looming on the horizon.
As he walked through a small alleyway, the bustling activity of the studio faded behind him. The late-night air was cool, and the moon hung high in the sky, a large waning gibbous casting a silvery glow over everything. Luke lit his cigarette, savoring the brief moment of solitude. He stopped walking and stared up at the moon, pulling out an alchemical star necklace from beneath his shirt and kissing it. Closing his eyes, he began to chant softly, seeking a moment of peace. But his tranquility was shattered by a low growl from the shadows. Luke’s eyes snapped open, and he noticed two large, orange eyes staring at him from the darkness. The eyes were surrounded by reddish-brown and black fur, giving the creature an ominous appearance.
“What the… JESUS!” Luke exclaimed, stumbling backward in fear. The orange eyes moved closer, and Luke could hear the creature’s growl growing louder. He tried to back away, but the narrow alley offered little room for escape. There was a haunting howl that entranced Luke into a dazed state as the shadowy creature creeped closer toward him.
“Hey, Mr. Lobo, I mean Luke! I’ve got your ginger ale!” Azul’s voice called out, cutting through the tension.
Sharp teeth glittered under the moonlight as they slowly made their way closer to Luke ready to snap. “Azul!” Luke shouted, recognizing the voice of the young PA.
Azul came running around the corner, her bright smile a stark contrast to the dark alley. “Luke! What happened?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t you hear the howl?” Luke asked, his voice shaking.
“What howl?” Azul replied, looking around.
Luke turned back to the alley, but the orange eyes and the creature were gone. “I-I-I… Nevermind,” he mumbled, shaking his head and walking away.
Azul watched him go, her demeanor shifting slightly as she looked around the backlot pensively. Studying the area there was nothing out of the ordinary but she could feel eyes watching her. She glanced up at a nearby roof where an elderly Hispanic man stood, watching them with keen interest. He wore all black, with a black-brimmed hat and a cane topped with a golden wolf head. Azul nodded to the man, who nodded back before she turned and followed Luke.
He reached the makeup trailer door and tapped it lightly. Laurel opened it, her eyes scanning him with concern. “You okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. I’m just ready to go home. I didn’t get a lot of rest from last night’s full moon,” Luke replied, his voice weary.
Laurel didn’t press further and let the door close behind him. As Luke settled into the makeup chair, Meredith and Laurel worked in tandem to clean off the old prosthetics and apply a fresh layer of adhesive. The bright fluorescent lights created a neutral space for Luke to begin going back into his process of becoming his character while they continued transforming him with movie magic. The process was meticulous, every detail attended to with the utmost care.
As they worked, the crew outside put the set back together. Lights were adjusted, costumes tweaked, and sound technicians replaced mic packs. The set hummed with focused energy, a stark contrast to the chaos that had erupted moments earlier. Andy stood to the side, his eyes darting to his watch, the tension visible as he waited for the makeup to be completed.
Luke went into a meditative state as he brought the character Arnie to the surface. Playing this unique character felt slightly out of reach, but he did everything to mentally prepare over the past year. His grandfather, Hektor Lobo, wanted him to take on this role, but Luke used other projects to distract himself from committing. This led his grandfather to issue an explicit ultimatum that pushed Luke into the role and the movie. His agency was up for contract negotiations with Lobo Studios. Hektor Lobo, a shrewd businessman, had built the empire that was Lobo Studios by being like a wolf in the night, always searching for his prey’s weak spot. With Luke, he could not attack him personally, but Luke trusted others and believed his agency would protect him. However, when faced with losing a billion-dollar contract, Luke was placed on a silver platter and had no choice. He became a bargaining chip for institutions that made billion-dollar franchise films, just a pearl among a sea of starlet jewels always used as playing chips in the film industry. The role of Arnie had been circulating through Hollywood for years, and Luke had been offered the role before. The story of turning into a werewolf felt too eerily real and was always a turn-off for Luke. Additionally, the character was now ten years younger than him. But it was Hektor who demanded his grandson take on this role. It was as if he never had a choice, and the role was designed for him. This year, he would have to confront it.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Meredith spun Luke’s chair around to face the mirror. The reflection staring back at him was that of a gruesome, lifelike werewolf. His eyes, still his own, were the only human feature remaining, and they stared back at him with a mix of awe and trepidation. A gruesome reflection stared back at him. Is this what I am on the inside? He thought. The legends, the occult, the history of his ancestors was always intertwined with the mythos of the wolf. His literal last name was Lobo which translated to wolf in english. Here he was staring at the long snout, gnarly teeth, black fur, and yet, as much as it was intense to see himself this way, there was a unique air of comfort. He felt like he was seeing his true self and there was no way to hide the truth any longer. He was always one with the beast within him.
“One last touch,” Laurel said, placing wildly dramatic purple contacts into Luke’s eyes, completing his transformation. As Luke gazed into the mirror, a bewitching and ominous tone filled the room. The reflection seemed to hold a deeper meaning, a connection to something primal and ancient within him.
“The Halloween Prince,” Laurel said, her voice barely a whisper, as if speaking the words could summon the spirit of the werewolf he had become.
“What was that dear?” Meredith asked.
“Oh, nothing, I am just pleased with my work that’s all.” Laurel went up to Luke and placed her hands on his shoulders. There was a silent conversation between the two and it was a secret Luke would no longer have the luxury of escaping. The wolf was becoming stronger and as he made this film, every scene shot brought the wolf more and more to the surface. Luke worried if he would ever be able to escape this role his family so desperately thrusted upon him. The sound of a wolf’s cry pierced the darkness of his mind, a solitary call that soon grew into a chorus as more voices joined in. The howls echoed through the night, blending with the ambient noise of the city and creating an eerie symphony that seemed to come from another world.
A sharp image of a sinister, mystical-looking skull with candle light flickering in its eye sockets added to the haunting atmosphere of Luke’s mind. It was an image he’d never seen in his mind but it took him under its spell. The red candle that was on top of the skull dropped hot wax creating a cascading of intensity as it flowed all over it. He heard an ancient sound of whispers and people speaking in tongues. It was as if he were under the spell coming from somewhere else in Lobo Studios, however, Luke was distracted by the moviemaking experience that he snapped out of it. He found himself once again on set with chaos waiting to erupt around him.
Andy tapped Luke’s shoulder, “you okay, brotha?” It was Andy who brought Luke back to reality.
“Um, yeah… Just getting into character.” Luke said with a sinister tone in his voice. He had transformed internally and was ready to complete this scene so he can get back on with his life.
All the extras took their places. “Alright let’s roll sound,” called Andy over a bullhorn.
“Sound speed.” Spoke the Sound Mixer tucked away in the corner.
“Roll camera,” said Andy.
“Camera rolling.” The First Assistant Camera pushed the recording button on the camera.
“Action on background.” Andy shouted and his team of Assistant Directors enacted the background talent. All of the chaotic pedestrian extras and the protestor extras began fighting and enacting their fight choreography. Cindy who plays Miranda in the film crouched into a primal looking pose and became her character once more.
“And action!” shouted Mitch, the director.
Luke’s eyes opened and he was no longer Luke. He was Arnie now and he was back in the world of the film they were making titled:
The Halloween Prince