I Fell Through Hell
A Madd Fictional Imagination Playhouse Production [Audio Drama]
"I Fell Through Hell," is a mesmerizing short story set in the quiet hours of the night where a whispering pillow reveals the haunting truth to a slumbering girl that the gates of Heaven are closed to her.
More than just a story, this is an auditory experience, so don your headphones, close your eyes, and prepare to be fully immersed in the soundscapes of the afterlife.
About the Creator
Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys
Could I weave a fantastical biographical tale full of mystery and mirth? Most certainly. Instead, within this limited space, I shall deal from the top of the deck and reveal that I am merely a humble scribe. Get to know me.
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More stories from Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Home, At Long Last
The above video tells the story of a woman's returns to her childhood home after being rescued from a 16-year captivity at the hands of a child abductor. "Home, At Long Last" explores the unfamiliarity of a once safe space, as the woman seeks solace in isolation from the onslaught of friends and relatives. She finds that she cannot deny the longing for the comfort of her captive past while struggling to reconnect with her family.
By Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys2 years ago in Fiction
A Love Forboding
The chipped stone slope caused unbearable footing. I slid, skirting on my heels. I cast my shield, relinquishing my guard to stay upright. Left with my double-edge and a prayer to the maker, I skated toward my objective. The earthly stubble gave way to solid ground. I found myself restored, a trail of dust in my wake.
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THE WEIGHT OF A DIAMOND
The harbour was at its most generous that night. Light spilled across the water in long, trembling ribbons, the city glittering as though it had dressed itself expressly for us. Champagne rose in pale, frantic bubbles, glasses refilled before they were empty, before desire had time to cool.
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Killing him slowly
There’s an intruder in my house again. He stumbles through the door, wet carrier bags in hand. He’s bought me offerings. I show my appreciation, letting him caress my beautiful body. He wants to touch me. I rub myself against his legs. He sighs, dropping the bags. He can’t resist touching me. Running his hand slowly down my spine, I arch my back towards his caress, let out a low purr. It’s what we both need.
By N J Delmas7 days ago in Horror
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