Radio Drama

FMSU9C7

Do you like telling stories? Are you interested in creating characters? Do you relish the opportunity of directing actors as they perform your own original dialogue? Or perhaps you love the technical challenge of creating original soundscapes and music to draw the listener into your narrative. The only thing to hold you back is your imagination.

Take some time to relax and listen to the work of our 4th year radio drama students.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Class of 2017!

https://soundcloud.com/theaudioseenatcmc/a-witchs-prayer-radio-drama

https://soundcloud.com/theaudioseenatcmc/the-dreamweaver-radio-drama

https://soundcloud.com/theaudioseenatcmc/the-lie-radio-drama

https://soundcloud.com/theaudioseenatcmc/con-wood-radio-drama

 

50 Word Stories

Little narrative gems from the class of 2017.

The Charm by Graham Blair

Jessica sat opposite Ted. Wide eyed and stunned at what had just occurred. It’s as if her life flashed before her eyes while Ted yelled obscenities at the waiter for getting their drink order wrong. It had only been 20 minutes into the date. And the charm was broken.

 

The Box by Chris Clark, produced by Group 2

“What’s inside the box?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, I don’t remember seeing it here before..”

“I’m going to open it.”

“Just wait! We don’t know if it’s safe or not.”

“It’s only a box!”

“Just let me examine it first to be safe.”

“Look it’s fi-“.

The girl vanished.

 

The Plants by Sirri Rimppi

Irma kicked the door in. She trashed through the house and escaped with the roof. The oak let out a wailing before it crashed the piano. Roots rose high. The cries drowned into the wind when power lines collapsed, bedrooms trembled, doors slammed… And, the plants listened quietly, and grew.

 

Rumbling by Joe Elton

The rumbling got louder.  I was lost in a sea of people. Panic started setting in. I had never experienced anything like this before.  My whole body hurt and it was getting harder to breath. I feared for my life. You’d have thought one person could have spared some change.

 

The Nightmare by Raquel Torres Gomez, produced by Group 2

 

Feet by Kieran Daly

“Such pretty feet? Can I touch them”

She giggled as she looked in the mirror.

“Oh yes, yes you can touch my feet!”

‘Have you ever thought about modelling them?”

“Oh I’ve never considered it”, she lied to herself somehow forgetting all of the Polaroids that were scattered around her.

 

The Bag by Kirsten Robertson

The problems began when they grabbed the bag.  Actually, that’s not right. They technically began when I stole the bag in the first place. £500, nicked from an old dear in Preston, then lifted by a kid on the train? How was I gonna explain this one to the boss…

 

Melting by Matthew Roud, produced by Group 4

 

No More Lies by Chris Stuart.

‘No more lies’, he said, awaiting the arrival of his blind date. James was fond of the Italian place he had chosen. A woman shone out from the dull hue of the restaurant. She approached him.

‘Hello, I’m Jasmin’.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you Jasmin, my name is Frank’.

 

Glass by Luke Vennall, produced by Group 3

 

The Nail by Chantelle Grieve, produced by Group 2

 

The Sacrifice, by Douglas Matheson, Produced by Group 4

 

The Fly by Max Muirhead

Buzzing. By now it was just buzzing. An irritating, insipid buzzing announcing all the world’s hopes, dreams, and problems in his ear. Their prayers made him regret. Regret turned to disdain, and then to hate. The mass of voices like a fly he couldn’t escape. His thumb crushed the fly.

 

The Handle by Jamie Harris

Timothy startled himself awake in the early hours of the morning. A smell of burning was too close for comfort. As he clutched his bedroom door handle, it was too hot and he recoiled. His hands were claw-like and agony as he couldn’t unfurl his fingers. Then everything went black…

 

The Fruit Bowl by Stylianos Repanis

The nanny left the door open. John walked through the hall into the dining room without us. There was silence. Then, a muffled sound and then a clang. Moments later we found Mr Scott unconscious in the chair and John eating from a bowl of grapes. “Fruit anyone, he asked.”

The Door by Clare Piggot

They ran as fast as they could, not daring to look behind them. This was it, they had to get out! The footsteps chasing them grew louder but the door was close now. They reached out pushing against it as hard as they could … but the door remained locked.

 

Don’t Look Up by Raquel Torres Gomez

I opened my eyes, and I saw them. 

Sitting, scratching, pulling on my skin. Staring at me. 

There’s a crushing weight on my chest. 

“Don’t look up!”, they warned. 

My lungs collapsing, the weight growing heavier. 

My eyes desperately crave a glance. 

“Don’t. Look. Up”

I couldn’t resist. 

I looked, and-