I treat every prop like a stage partner—every mask, every broken mirror, every dusty book has a backstory I write down, a ritual I perform, and a continuity check I never skip. If a prop isn’t exactly where it belongs, it’s an audience mistake, so I reset it myself, no excuses. I add a tiny touch of bright color or a whimsical detail to a otherwise terrifying object; the contrast keeps the mood sharp but gives the audience a flicker of something hopeful—like a candle in the dark that’s both spooky and oddly uplifting. And of course I never forget the fog machine, because a thin veil of mist is the perfect backdrop for both dread and a little romantic dread.