It started with a chuckle—just a snide, city-slicker scoff at the hunched voodoo priestess and her bundle of bones and feathers. But laughter has a way of curdling when the sun dips down and the shadows crawl long. That night, Deborah’s dreams tore open like a rotten tomato, and out of the smoke slithered a thing—part monkey, part nightmare…and all vengeance. Its eyes glowed like furnace coals, and its gaping maw dripped fire and ash. It shrieked her name with a voice like burning parchment, promising death, doom and an unhappy stint as head of marketing. Oh, Deborah had been wrong—so very wrong—to laugh.

First done in Painter, then reworked 15 years later with Procreate and True Grit Texture Package. Voodoo curses never die, they mature like fine wine.