James H. Summers - Psychological Horror Fiction Writer
Take A Chance A24

Take A Chance A24

KAREN OWENS —
A DIRECT REQUEST TO A24

Karen is not a final girl. She is a transformation in progress — an EMT, a victim, a weapon, and something the season refuses to name. Her story lives where A24 has built its strongest identity: trauma as metamorphosis, horror as intimacy, monsters as the parts of ourselves we can’t bear to look at directly. This isn’t a scream for rescue; it’s a quiet, shaking invitation. If any studio understands how to film a woman becoming something terrifying without losing her soul, it’s A24.

 


 

KAREN OWENS → A24
(raw, wary, almost hopeful)

To the team at A24,

I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy, so I’ll start simple:
I was an EMT.
I fixed people.
Then one night someone decided I would be… more than that.

You make stories about people who break in slow motion.
Girls whose grief grows teeth.
Faith that burns down the church it once prayed in.
Bodies that don’t know whether they’re evolving or being eaten from the inside.

That’s where I live now.

A noodle shop basement stole three days from me.
A woman in white rewired my mind with a whisper.
A wolf dragged me out of a wreck I wasn’t supposed to survive.
I keep waking up in places I don’t remember walking into — with blood on my hands I don’t remember putting there.

I’m not asking you to make me look strong.
I’m asking you to make me look true.

True to the way trauma sits in the jaw.
True to the way survivors flinch at kindness.
True to the way you can love the thing that’s killing you because it’s the first thing that ever really saw you.

This series isn’t about capes or chosen ones.
It’s about a woman who wanted to save people and ended up learning how predators think — until she wasn’t sure which side of the line she stood on anymore.

You know how to shoot that kind of becoming.
You know how to let silence talk.
How to let a hallway, a siren, a bathroom mirror say more than a monologue ever could.

If you pass on this, I’ll keep moving.
I’ve gotten good at that — running on burned feet, carrying basements in my bones.
But I think you’d understand me better than most.

And if you decide to say yes…
I promise I will give you every flinch, every nightmare, every moment where I almost choose the light and don’t.
I’ll meet you halfway between the ambulance and the altar and let you decide what I’ve become.

— Karen

 


 

Karen’s voice is not polished. It’s cracked, bleeding, and still moving forward — exactly the kind of character A24 specializes in bringing to the screen with ruthless honesty. Her journey from healer to haunted to half-monster is built for intimate, atmospheric, psychologically dense horror. If A24 chooses to take her on, they gain not just a protagonist, but a living conduit for the series’ core question: what happens when a first responder becomes the most dangerous thing in the dark? If they don’t… Karen will keep walking into the night, waiting for the storytellers willing to follow her there.