If what they say is true, that idle hands are the devil’s playground, then the same must be true about idle ideas in the mind of a filmmaker. This project came about as a result of idle chit chat with a group of friends as we were pounding down sacks full of White Castle murder burgers in a two-tone ’67 Chevy Impala after a night of heavy partying. Never come up with a nonsensical premise and dare me to turn it into a movie. Never.
The Tale of The Maconheiro:
Preview clip starring Steph Van Vlack, Pedro Rezende, Charlotte Grant, Julia Giolzetti, and Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys. Written & Directed by Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys. Copyright 2008-2016 Of Our Hue Filmworks. All Rights Reserved.
Deborah and Verity meeting:
Preview clip starring Monica Hammond and Charlotte Grant. Written & Directed by Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys. Copyright 2008-2016 Of Our Hue Filmworks. All Rights Reserved.
Steve’s crib:
Preview clip starring Monica Hammond, Daniel Petsche, Elizabeth Sawyer and Chris Van Kirk. Written & Directed by Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys. Copyright 2008-2016 Of Our Hue Filmworks. All Rights Reserved.
This marks my very first serious attempt at writing and directing a short film based on a feature-length screenplay I wrote about diversity within the comic book industry named, “Spotting Black.” It’s a little clunky and long-winded, but it’s mine, a project completed and one less item on my bucket list.
Part 1 – The Sitdown – In this segment, it’s the start of the Tri-State Comic Convention and publisher Mark Brown enters his hotel room to find the most unusual submission he’s ever received.:
Part 2 – The Rejection – After Daryl receives a less than enthusiastic response to his submission and previously published work… things get heated:
Part 3 – Harsh Realities – Tired of all the rhetoric, Mark is determined to school Daryl about the realities regarding the comic book industry as it relates to people of color:
Part 4 – The Admission – it’s all been said and done and there’s nothing left but for Daryl to come clean about his unorthodox submission:
Starring Lamont Copeland, Buddy Woodson, and Reena Dutt. Written & Directed by Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys. Copyright 2001-2020 Of Our Hue Filmworks. All Rights Reserved.
I’m on a serious nostalgia trip at the moment, looking back on past projects (because, let’s face it, the past should not be forgotten) and this graphic novel was actually created as a birthday gift for my girlfriend at the time and printed on newsprint, meaning to resemble a modern day penny dreadful.
Synopsis: Set in a future one step ahead and to the left of our own, Polymer Doll Isabeau tells the story of the mysterious and amnestic Izzy, the sole survivor of the Theologos Catastrophe that wiped out the entire population of Brooklyn, New York, four years ago. An accident caused by Rowe Scientific. As events build to similar disaster, Izzy, with the help of her friends, reporter Sydney Dorset and Agent Morgan Barksdale, races to discover her true connect with the Polymer Doll Project, the military android application believed to be the cause of the Brooklyn tragedy.
Inspiration comes from the oddest places sometimes and the idea for this graphic novel series came from watching the cheesy Christopher Walken movie, “The Prophecy” which sparked an interest in reading the apocrypha and pseudepigrapha which resulted in me creating “Genaissance: A Parable Scribed by the Shadowside of God”:
Synopsis: The time? One of innocence. The place? A land that no longer exists; the Earth Pre-Flood. It is here that a gentle soul named Enoch, on the 365th year of his life, is lifted up into the Seven Heavens and brought before the unbearable face of God. Elected to be the Scribe of God, Enoch encounters the Archangel Micha-el, who begins relating a fantastic parable. Through Enoch’s mindseye we witness the evolution of God, the creation of Earth, the formation of Heaven, the birth of Lucifer Morningstar, and much, much more.
Visual Assault Omnibus, our premiere title, was a superhero/science fiction anthology series created by myself, which included gallery pages that new and amateur artists could submit to, as well as coloring and scripting contests and featured the following stories:
Nixa! – On Deimos, the smallest Martian moon, there exists a three-component masterpiece society, consisting of the controlling Deiphovner, subservient Lax’chaetaal, and mysterious Oss’fuite races. For reasons yet unknown to her, Nixa, the nigh-invulnerable metal-skinned Oss’fuite, leads the Lax’chaetaal in a revolt against the Deiphovner. The Oss’fuite are forced to choose sides and Nixa finds herself in battle against one-time ally, Mesq Klute. When it becomes apparent that Nixa may very well die in battle, she is teleported away against her will by friend Ari Grice, the third and final Oss’fuite. The “blind” teleportation leaves Nixa floating helplessly in Earth’s orbit. Her meteoric descent brings about wanton chaos and destruction on many different levels, as secrets that Nixa is no stranger to Earth are revealed.
Improbable Impact – Somewhere within The Brinke, the Sphere Of Time, lurks an entity some call Euthanasia, who was spawned at the creation of the universe. Euthanasia exists to exercise his whims as he sees fit. One of his fonder pleasures is to create new races that he can convert into loyal worshippers that will obey his every whim, even if the consequence is the destruction of the very fabric of the universe itself! He has discovered ideal followers in a race called The Trachnevid, a star-faring race that plunders planets in Euthanasia’s name. One sole survivor, Dimensioner, whose homeworld was destroyed in Euthanasia’s wake, begins a maddening crusade to build a counter-army to help prevent the fruition of Euthanasia’s twisted schemes and restore the proper balance of the universe.
Maseo, Hero-Killer – A mysterious young female vigilante, known only as Maseo, is accused of killing the national superhero, Paramount. The government wants to reprogram her, the public cries out for her blood, the superhero community demands retribution, and the villain element wants a crack at the person who killed Paramount. No one believes her. No one trusts her. No one except her court-appointed lawyer, Augustus Supall. Living a life on the run, Maseo begins to implement a plan that will reveal the forces behind the chaos that her life has become, while Supall struggles to unearth the truth. This is not your standard fare “vigilante” tale.
Ruehl – Even as a baby, the name Ruehl was a legend. Miracle Baby. Savior. Defender of the weak. Role model. Spokesperson. The ultimate merchandising tool. But suddenly, at the pinnacle of her career, evidence has surfaced that she was responsible for the deaths of nearly 200 people, a charge that she cannot deny. Follow the path of a superstar whose life begins the long, slow spiral straight to hell.
MindSet – When the world is running down…you make the best of what’s still around. And after The FlatFall of ‘94 (Nixa’s impact with Manhattan Island), MindSet is as best as it gets. Six in all, orphans turned guinea pigs, and molded into the finest, deadliest technologically advanced corporate henchmen. But when their mission is to assassinate the current Pope, can even the highest level of their super technology go toe-to-toe with an emissary from the heavens?
Loam, the Intrepid – How true are the rumors that a 400 year old myth, an African golem, whose hands are like anvils and whose eyes can burn the soul, has finally come to New York? One reporter for a sensationalist primetime tv show and his partner will risk their lives and even their sanity to reveal the truth behind the “monster” that preys on evil from the dark recesses of New York’s back alleys.
78 Page, Black and White Graphic Novel by Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys
In the year 2046, tax rates have reached a record high of 96%. These rates have incensed what is left of the working class. Citizens, in order to survive with some semblance of dignity, have devised ways to withhold income from the taxation offices, adopting a “the tax office can’t tax what they don’t know about” attitude. The Rowe Scientific Tax Administration Inspection Bureau has made it their business to be in the position to know EVERYTHING.
Since humans have proven time and time again to be selfish, money-grubbing little creatures, Rowe designed a new type of tax man, one that was incorruptible and flawless, to oversee and enforce the stringent tax laws. Thus were born…THE REVENUE MEN. When one of these super auditors malfunctions and begins its deadly pursuit on an innocent taxpayer. Trapped in a skyscraper, and armed with nothing but the knowledge that he is innocent, Eddie Pacheco must match wits with an insane automaton, ever staying one step ahead, if he wants to stay alive.
Everyone I knew wrote me off as a space case, as if I was insane or some sad eccentric with little grip on reality but none of them, not a single solitary person, bothered to get to know me, to peer beyond this veil of all too fragile flesh in order to witness the infinitude that lay within.
Researching on her tablet, Mayra discovered the first functional fetal organ to develop was the heart, typically eighteen to nineteen days after fertilization which began to beat and pump blood around day twenty-two. But when it came to ensoulment, the closest thing she found to a specific answer dated back to the time of Aristotle, where it was believed the human soul entered the forming body at forty days for boys and ninety days for girls, which was of exactly zero use in explaining why there had been no sightings of child or baby spirits and if her as yet unborn child currently had a soul.
“How long do you think you’ve been pregnant?” Bethany asked.
“Um, I don’t know,” Mayra said, counting the days back to when she first took the test.
“At least six weeks?”
“Sure, I think. Maybe? Why?”
“Because six weeks is the earliest you can get a dating scan.”
“A what now?”
“An ultrasound to find out how far along you are and detect the presence of a heartbeat. Don’t you want to hear your baby’s heartbeat? I know I do.”
Mayra felt slightly ashamed that Bethany had taken the reins with regard to the clinical aspects for the pregnancy while she was preoccupied with the metaphysics of soul creation and death.
“It’s been over six weeks since I missed my period,” Mayra said.
“So, should I book us an appointment?” Bethany asked, and received no response. “What’s up with you?”
“You’re not going to like this,” Mayra sighed. “But I think Gavin might be right.”
“About what?”
“Maybe it’s not right to bring a child into this new world.”
Bethany sat across from Mayra in complete silence, lost in her thoughts for a long while before saying, “I don’t know how to respond to that. I mean, if that’s Gavin’s voice in your head, I’d tell you to tell it to fuck off. If you’re thinking it because you’re nervous, I can totally understand that but like I’ve told you a hundred times, you are not alone, and I’ll keep telling you until it finally sinks in. But if this is truly how you feel, then I support you and your choice and I’ll be here for you however you need me to be so don’t feel guilty because you have to do what’s right for you.”
“I have to admit, Bethy, I have no idea what’s right anymore.”
***
It was an odd thing but being in the hospital to get the ultrasound made the situation real. Mayra was going to have a baby, she was going to be a single mom which meant she had some growing up to do. She was afraid the sonographer was going to make assumptions about her since Bethany was at her side instead of Gavin but it was one of those childishly foolish notions that she needed to push out of her head.
“At this point we should be able to see the baby take shape,” the sonographer, whose name was Gloria, smiled. “Your little one is slowly becoming a person and I have to admit this is the point I find the most exciting. Nine months might seem like a long time but it will fly by. Make the most of this experience because once you hold your baby in your arms everything will be different.”
“Do you think this is something I can do alone?” Mayra had no idea why she asked the question. The words just slipped out before she was aware of what she was saying.
“Yes, even though it’s obvious to me you aren’t alone,” Gloria said without missing a beat and nodding a smile at Bethany. “Somehow I can tell there are always going to be people around to help you. Pregnancy can sometimes make you feel like you’re in it by yourself but you’d be surprised at how people will step up to help.”
“That’s a curious bedside manner you’ve got there,” Bethany said.
“So I’ve been told,” Gloria replied and to Mayra she said, “The scan usually takes about twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?” Mayra said.
“I know your bladder’s full but we’ll get through this as quickly as possible,” Gloria held up a squeeze bottle and a small hand-held device. “First I’m going to apply some ultrasound gel to your tummy and move this transducer over your skin to get views of your baby.”
Mayra looked down at the gel being spread over her stomach. Her body was still in the same shape it had always been, something the baby would soon change and she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for it. When she glanced at Bethany, she saw her friend was staring across the room at a ghost midwife standing nearby, watching the monitor, waiting patiently. It was impossible to pretend she wasn’t there but a strange phenomenon was taking place where people began ignoring the spirits, they had become so commonplace. Exhaling deeply, she turned her attention to the screen. Being able to see her growing child was the whole reason she was there, and she wasn’t about to let the dead spoil this moment.
“Okay, Mayra, this is going to feel weird, but I promise you it’s truly worth it,” Gloria said.
Mayra said a silent prayer that the scan turned out normal and the baby was healthy but the moment the transducer made contact with her belly—everything changed. Her vision filled with starbursts. A million points of light filled her mind and she was overcome with a sensation that was simply too good, too pure to exist in this imperfect world. Her sense of existence expanded beyond the limitations of infinity and for one brief moment the edges of her mind brushed against the minds of every person, living and dead, linking together like a jigsaw puzzle of peace and all was right in the universe for a nanosecond before infinite knowledge avalanched onto her mind sending shards of information into her brain and out through the back of her skull over and over eternally and existence filled her mouth, filled her throat, filled her lungs, suffocating her with its presence and it would not let up, would not let her fight, would not let her scream as she was engulfed by the unending blinding whiteness of everything until she became nothing at all.
The bits and pieces that made her unique no longer existed in this pearlescent void and how could it? The totality of everything had pushed everything she had ever been out of her. She was now a hollow lifeless shell—until she wasn’t. Reality, her reality, the only one she personally experienced, had begun reknitting itself, stitch one, purl two until she was back in the examination room with the sonographer and Bethany. Both women stood stock-still as if they had been turned into stone by a basilisk, mouth agape, staring at the monitor. What they saw on the screen looked nothing like a baby at all. It looked more like a blob, a swirling mass that resembled a distant galaxy viewed through a space telescope.
When Gloria recovered enough to form words, she said, “Let me get one of the doctors in for a second opinion,” and bolted out of the room before Mayra could ask a question.
Mayra turned to Bethany who was gathering their coats and bags in a hurried fashion.
“Bethy, what are you doing?”
“Sweetie, we need to get the fuck out of here, now!”
I thought I could handle any trouble that came my way but the murder investigation had gone riotous way too fast and I was caught at ground zero.
I tried to beat a hasty retreat to call for backup but standing between me and the Big Top’s only egress was the Circus Authorities, a bundle of fast-moving, nimble as fuck, acrobatic clowns armed to the teeth with corrosive acid pies and rubber chickens filled with ball bearings.
Turning on the television was almost always a bad idea. The one sure thing in all this madness was that every channel with a news outlet, syndicated and cable alike, provided twenty-four hour a day updates of variations on the same stories: people dealing with the spirits of loved ones. The sad fact of the matter was daily life seemed to stop the moment the dead returned to Earth. And that was the good news.
Interspersed between dramatic reenactments of tearful afterlife family reunions was the blowback religion was suffering due to its failure to provide answers for the reason Heaven was destroyed, the purpose of dead spirits returning to Earth and the overcrowding it was causing, and why anyone should continue worshipping if they were no longer a reward for living a righteous life. The suicide rate continued to climb but not all of the disillusioned practitioners were taking their own lives. Some took it upon themselves to express their anger in the form of the vandalization of churches, mosques and religious community centers which quickly escalated to bomb threats, physical attacks on parishioners, then to mass shootings and bombings. In order to minimize the death toll in America, the President passed an executive order to close places of worship and urged other countries to follow suit but failed to gain any traction as religious congregations across the states defied the ban.
Experts assembled comprehensive databases of bombers and mass shooters who aimed their attacks on religious groups or places of worship to try to better understand and help prevent future violence of this kind. They stated, normally the statistics would have indicated the perpetrators being men, mostly Caucasian, single and unemployed, ages ranging from twenty to forty, with histories of mental illness, substance abuse, and victims of serious childhood trauma. Worship murderers also typically fell into one of two distinct categories: ethno-religious hate groups who target a specific group of people to blame for their grievances; or angry individuals in crisis motivated by domestic issues. But new studies showed no gender, ethnicity or age correlation among the offenders. In fact, the common thread seemed to be people prepared to commit suicide who were afraid of dying alone. If they had to exist in void, they wanted to be surrounded by their family and friends.
To combat the escalating tension, celebrities formed organizations to hold Death of Heaven vigil simulcast on tv, radio, podcast and across all the social media platforms around the world to offer support for those suffering as a result of the loss, as well as counseling for those having difficulty adjusting to having dead abusive spouses and family members return into their lives.
Mayra shut the tv off. She couldn’t be bothered flicking through the channels to find something to momentarily distract her. Even the soaps had been forced to add current events into their storylines, thanks to deceased actors appearing on set and going through their former character motions.
Stretching out on the sofa, her hand reflexively reached out for her smartphone.
“There’ll come a time when you’ll have to face facts,” Bethany said as she crossed from the bedroom, heading for the kitchen. “In your own time, of course, but sooner would be better for your mental state and the baby’s health.”
Damn. She had been busted by her friend once again and though Bethany tried not to sound too judgmental, Mayra felt a sense of shame that she wasn’t strong enough to admit the truth and move on with her life.
“Yeah, I know,” Mayra said, thumb hovering over the number keypad. “I keep going over it in my head, but our lives are too entwined. Gavin hasn’t touched the bank account, not that there’s a lot in there to begin with, so that means he doesn’t have a lot of money. He has to either be crashing with a friend or maybe he moved back to his parents’ house.”
“And you’ve already dialed all those numbers a dozen times. Sure, maybe if you pester them enough someone will eventually break and fess up, but you don’t know what story he spun to them and you could wind up looking like the psycho stalker ex-girlfriend.”
“I don’t care what people think. I just need to talk to him. I need that, Bethy, I need it.”
“Sweetie, I’m not telling you not to call, not to try. All I want is for you to be happy and if happy isn’t possible right now then I want you to feel comfortable moving forward without that dead weight hanging around your neck. From what you’ve told me the two of you were more like house mates for a while now. If that’s what you want out of life then go for it and I’ll support you the best way possible, but if you want someone to love you the way you deserve to be loved I think you need to accept the reality that you kissed a frog and instead of getting a prince, you got warts.”
“I know calling him probably isn’t the smartest thing to do, but I need to hear his voice. Don’t hate me.”
“Never,” Bethany said, continuing to the kitchen. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Mayra dialed Gavin’s cell, cursing herself for being a weak-willed idiot.
“The number you have dialed is not in service, please check the number and try again.” The automated voice wasn’t what she expected to hear. She hung up and tried again. “The number you have dialed—” She disconnected and carefully redialed his phone number one more time. “The number you have dialed—” Mayra hurled the phone across the room and screamed, “Fuck!”
Bethany ran into the living room. “What is it? What happened?”
“That bastard changed his number,” Mayra said and suddenly the floodgates opened. Everything she kept bottled up came spilling out. Gavin hadn’t left a note or emailed her or even sent a text message. The very least he could have done if he was at his parents’ house was to have his mother or father call her to let her know he was safe. But no, all she got after five years of dating was an apartment full of the empty spaces he used to inhabit. She ended with, “He’s gone,” before breaking down into uncontrollable tears.
“Yes, he is, sweetie,” Bethany pulled her friend into her arms and gently rocked her. “But you’re not alone.”
***
Bethany had done more than Mayra could ever have asked. She worked out the apartment lease with the landlord, removing Gavin’s name and replaced it with her own, as well as smoothing things over with Mayra’s boss so she could take a few days off and still keep her job. At times Mayra had been overwhelmed by it all, and the complicated emotions that came with accepting her relationship with Gavin was well and truly over came and went like the tides. There were days when she hated her ex-boyfriend—and it had taken a while to adjust to thinking of him as an ex—for what he’d done and the only thing she really wanted to do was to hurt him the way he hurt her. Then there were days when she accepted the way things were, realizing there was nothing she could have done to change what was.
One of the best reasons for having Bethany so close was that Mayra could open the release valve when her brain became too cluttered with random, disturbing thoughts and voice things she ordinarily wouldn’t have been able to speak with Gavin about.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about miscarriages,” Mayra let slip while she and Bethany were working on a jigsaw together. It was a three thousand piece Educa Amsterdam with Red Bike Puzzle. Challenging enough to focus her concentration on since besides the red bike, the rest of the puzzle was in black and white with reflective surfaces. Still, idle thoughts had a way of creeping in.
“What?” Bethany gave her a look she’d grown accustomed to since moving in together, the look of being blindsided. “You shouldn’t be worrying about things like that. Stay positive. Everything’s going to be all right because there’s no reason they shouldn’t be.”
“You don’t understand. I’m not worrying about miscarrying, not yet at least, I was just wondering when life begins. Is it at conception?”
“I—I’m no expert but I’d say, sure, why not?”
“Then why haven’t we seen the souls of any aborted children? Or still births? Is it because their souls hadn’t properly developed?”
“Okay, that’s disturbing on a number of levels. Have you actually been looking for them? I wouldn’t even know what that would look like and I don’t think I’d want to know.”
“You’ve got a point there,” Mayra admitted. “But what about kids? Of all the people who’ve died and returned, why hasn’t anyone reported spotting children?”
“Oh man,” Bethany said. “With all the confusion going on, I never realized all we’ve been encountering are adults. What happened to all the kids? And people are tripping over ghosts outside but I haven’t seen one in our apartment yet. Have you?”
“I—” Mayra began, then thought about it. “No, I haven’t.”
“Somebody must have died here.”
“Bethy!”
“This isn’t a new building, is what I’m saying. What are the odds this is one of the few places on Earth where no deaths have ever occurred?”
MADD FICTIONAL 