Ria Hill Archives - Black Hare Press

Eternal Flame

March 5, 2024/by Shawna Rowan

by Ria Hill

The patch of stone he kneels on is as bare as it is holy. He has done the unthinkable and sought immortality. That achieved, he waits in chains before the only few who could revoke that gift.

His final sentence is a shock that stiffens his spine.

“Keep your eternity,” the priestess says. “Be our guiding light.”

The flames roll over his flesh, consuming him with a hunger that will never be satisfied.

Prayers tear his throat to shreds only briefly before it stitches itself whole to scream again. His ever-mending body is a fuel that will never be exhausted.

Ria Hill

Ria Hill is a writer, librarian, and nonbinary horror. Chances of them devouring you on sight are very low, but never zero. They can be found online at riahill.weebly.com and on various social media platforms @riawritten.

Website: riahill.weebly.com

Ship in a Bottle

November 10, 2022/by Shawna Rowan

by Ria Hill

He remembered the splintering of wood, but it had been so long since he had heard a crashing wave he barely remembered what one sounded like.

The smell of the sea was a memory. The air around his ship’s hull was silent, as still as it was saltless.

In the shocking motionlessness of his surroundings, the captain wondered if he was dead or something worse, but it hardly mattered.

Even though the sea had killed him, he desperately missed it.

He stared, as he had for weeks now, out at the glass that surrounded his ship’s solitary form, utterly alone.

Ria Hill

Ria Hill is a writer and librarian living in New York City. When not writing, they can be found in the public library slinging James Patterson books. They enjoy reading, knitting, playing ukulele (badly), and spending time with their spouse. You can find them on Twitter @RiaWritten.

YEAR FOUR

January 12, 2020/by Black Hare Press

YEAR SIX

January 10, 2020/by Black Hare Press

Tag Archive for: Ria Hill

The patch of stone he kneels on is as bare as it is holy. He has done the unthinkable and sought immortality. That achieved, he waits in chains before the only few who could revoke that gift.

His final sentence is a shock that stiffens his spine.

“Keep your eternity,” the priestess says. “Be our guiding light.”

The flames roll over his flesh, consuming him with a hunger that will never be satisfied.

Prayers tear his throat to shreds only briefly before it stitches itself whole to scream again. His ever-mending body is a fuel that will never be exhausted.

by Ria Hill

He remembered the splintering of wood, but it had been so long since he had heard a crashing wave he barely remembered what one sounded like.

The smell of the sea was a memory. The air around his ship’s hull was silent, as still as it was saltless.

In the shocking motionlessness of his surroundings, the captain wondered if he was dead or something worse, but it hardly mattered.

Even though the sea had killed him, he desperately missed it.

He stared, as he had for weeks now, out at the glass that surrounded his ship’s solitary form, utterly alone.

Ria Hill