✩ Rising Stars of Providence ✩ - Contest Submissions

[Urahra 5363]

 

 

 

From the Desk of

 

 

 

To the theater-lovers of Oren - numerous as I am certain you are!

 

As you'll recall... four Saint's Weeks ago, I announced my Rising Stars of Providence playwrighting competition. In the announcement, I invited young writers from all across Almaris to submit their content. From among those submissions, I would choose the three best pieces and stage them at the La Fleur theater in Providence for the enjoyment and enrichment of all. Part of me worried that no one would answer my call. Well! I am delighted to state that was not the case. I received five short plays from five up-and-coming stage-crafters across the globe.

 

Today, I would like to share those submissions with you, the literary elite of Oren, and give you the opportunity to vote for your favorite. 

 

You shall find the plays below. Review them thoroughly and make your selections by answering the questionnaire above. May the best, most compelling, most moving, and most beautiful drama prevail!

 

Signed,

 

Your Devoted Servant,

 

 

 

The Curious Case of Mrs. Klept

By Henry Penton

@CharmingCavalier

 

 CAST

 

Mr. Catus Advo - An established, yet crooked, jurist interested in only two things, his snuff and money.

Mr. Moore Onn- The new apprentice of Mr. Advo, arriving on the day of our scene. He is idealistic and in pursuit of justice but will have difficulty finding it in the courts.

 

Mrs. Klept O’Mayneeac - A heavy-set and dim-witted countrywoman. She has a kind nature.

Mr. Pyr O’Mayneeac - A lively fellow wearing a stained dress stretched over his protruding gut.

 

 

Spoiler

 

Our curtain rises on a contemporary and lavish office among the bustling streets of Providence. Two desks, one on a dais, rest before us. The higher of the two is occupied by an old man in fine attire.

Mr. Advo sits writing, interspersing his quill strokes with sudden snuffs retrieved from a breast pocket.

Enter Mr. Onn, respectfully straightening his suit under the watchful eye of the old man.

MR. ADVO
I’m fully backed up, boy. Find someone else to deal with your matters.

MR. ONN
Well, sir, I had no idea an apprentice had any involvement with the privy movements of his master, though I am more than obliged to retrieve my mother’s flaxseed broth she once offere-

 

Mr. Advo interrupts, removing his reading spectacles.

MR. ADVO
So you are the eldest of Mr. Onn’s brood? What was it, Taxeish Onn?

MR. ONN
(Walks up and offer a handshake)
That is my brother, sir. I am Moore, Mr. Moore Onn III.

MR. ADVO
(Looks at the hand uninvitingly)
Very well then, Mr. Moore Onn, take your seat and do as you're told. No more talk of my stool.

Mr. Onn slowly drags a decrepit stool from along the wall to his desk. He takes a seat, wobbling atop the shoddily crafted seat.

 

MR. ONN
I had thought to prepare myself by reading over the briefs you filed last season, they were-

MR. ADVO
Excellent, I know.
(He would inhale another pinch of snuff from his thumb)
Now, boy, I am not sure what law you know, but your first lesson shall be concise. In the courts, you must speak with surety.

MR. ONN
As you sa-

MR. ADVO
If you are unsure, you must convince yourself and the court that you are entirely sure.

MR. ONN
Entirely sure of my unsurety?

MR. ADVO
(Shrugs)
Sure?
(A brief pause)
The next thing for you to learn is the most significant problem our legal system faces.

MR. ONN
The ability for magistrates to be granted a salary so they can undertake their duties with the reassurance their livelihoods are not at risk?

MR. ADVO
No, none of that silly nonsense. It is that there is a rule preventing lawyers from sleeping with their own clients.

MR. ONN
To not distract us from the law?

MR. ADVO
Oh heavens no, so we can’t charge them twice for the same service. If only there were some way around it...

MR. ONN
(Chuckles, slowly turning to look at Mr. Advo)
You can’t be seriou-

MR. ADVO
(Mr. Onn’s gaze is met by a stern, unsmiling face.)
Entirely so, Mr. Onn. And if you would dare profane the very nature of the reputable law offices of Mr. Catus Advo with sure ignorant disda-

MR. ONN
(Would stand, slamming his fist on his tiny desk and begins his passionate monologue)
I was under the intentions that this was a reputable law office, but it is you who holds the law in ignorant contempt, sir, not me! For I am a believer that the law is akin to the stars in the night sky. As the surrounding void is bleak, dark, and scarce around it, the stars offer hope. They offer substance where there is nothing. They do not sway but return time and time again to do their duty. As too does the law, taming the wild nature of man to a moral character. I very much hoped to-

MR. ADVO
(Interrupts the monologue for an extremely loud snuff and then in a mildly fatigued tone says,)
Are you done yet?

MR. ONN
Sir, I shall not cease!

The door is slammed open by a wide-hipped lady in drab clothing, her hair a frazzled mess

MRS. KLEPT
Yewll 'ave ter pardon me meh lerds, I am in need of an ignorant lawyer for a reputable case.
(aside)

Or was it the ovva way 'round, dammit. ‘Evermind, I came ter inquire 'a much ya charge?

MR. ADVO
(stands, ushering the woman to his desk)
Come, come, fair woman. I shall tell you now it is the low price of one hundred mina per three questions asked.

MRS. KLEPT
Ain’t that a lil' steep meh lerd?

MR. ADVO
I suppose it is. What’s your third question?

MRS. KLEPT
They nicked me just an 'our past, I 'ad a guard brin' me from the bloomin' clink ter ya! Can ya imagine! I’m just a poor c u nt...

She would start sobbing and take a few moments to recover as Mr. Onn looked on in shock. Mr. Advo would appear entirely bored.

MRS. KLEPT
-a poor country woman!

MR. ADVO
For whatever did they imprison you for?

MRS. KLEPT
They fin' I robbed sum men on the 'ighway outside of the city. They say I beheaded those men and bof of the bleedin' 'orses pullin' the bloomin' carriage!

MR. ONN
(Comes to join the other two)
Well, did you?

MRS. KLEPT
(Her sniffles and tears would stop as she stared between the two men)
Why of course I did, but I daan't wanna get nabbed! 'Oo is this young wahn anyway Mr. Catus?

MR. ADVO
Aha, a third question!
(He would motion to Mr. Onn to notate the charge before turning back to the lady)
My young apprentice, with much to learn. Nevermind him, dear Mrs.-

MRS. KLEPT
Mrs. O’Mayneeac, meh lerd. Mrs. Klept O’Mayneeac.

MR. ONN
Mrs. O’Mayneeac, we have serious business to attend to, none of which involves your foolis-

MR. ADVO
My dear Mrs. Klept, we could see about defending you if only you had money to pay a retainer for your court date. If only you had recently come across a sizeable amount of wealth, perhaps this could be arranged?

Mr. Onn would stand startled and surprised by what he was hearing yet remained silent.

MRS. KLEPT
The mina is aw spent.

MR. ADVO
All spent? Spent on what?

MRS. KLEPT
I bought - I bought...
(She would nervously be looking around)
Apples, sir! Loads of apples. Big apples. Red ones. Nice ripe ones ifido ‘ay so for mehself.

MR. ADVO
You ate that many apples in a few hour's time?

MRS. KLEPT
(Scoffs)
As if ya could last longer!

The door is slammed open again by a very obese, bearded man in a stained, undersized dress. He roars at the three in the office.

MR. PYR
It wes meeeh! Ah done did it aaal. Ah robbed those men an' horses. Ah confess!

MR. ONN
(Throws his hands in the air)
And just who would you be, sir? Or miss?
(A brief pause)
What are you exactly?

MRS. KLEPT
(Starts screaming at the man)
Oh not this ‘ime Pyr, you’re not gettin' me stint for this. I robbed those men and 'orses.

MR. PYR
Yee got tuh tek yor time in debtor's prison. This time its me ‘oo did the killin, ah gotta tek the time!

MR. ONN
What exactly is going on here?

MR. ADVO
(Silences Mr. Onn with an authoritative shushing sound)
I’m trying to listen!

MR. PYR
It doesn't mattor wot yee sey, ah already signed me confession an' gev it tuh a magistrate.

MRS. KLEPT
Oh yeah? Mr. Advo, tell the bleedin' judge I did it, not 'im! Tell 'im whatta scumbag I am.

MR. ONN
You both can’t have committed the crime!

MRS. KLEPT
'Ey, wot an blindin' idea your apprentice just 'ad. Wot if we bof done it? We wanna bof go ter the clink.

MR. PYR
Wot a damn canny idea! If wuh confess they migh’ evon let os choose the jail. Ah wes thinkin da wan upstate!

MRS. KLEPT
Wonderful choice dear! I even 'eard Sue and John 're up there. Lovely jubbly couple they 're.

MR. ONN
(Mr. Onn holds up his hands and screams to silence the two. There is quiet before he speaks)
You would all dare bastardize our judicial system with such a mockery!

He would look at all three of them, backing up and beginning to rage again.

MR. ONN
All of you! You are cheats! Frauds! The lowest scum this earth could provide. And now I know, I know the truth! Law is not the stars. Damn the stars! There is nothing out there. Don’t pray to the stars, believing that the universe has a purpose for us! In that dark void stands nothing but the universe’s bold indifference to our struggles. I thought we could find order and justice in our creations, but all I see is nothingness. The brightest stars cannot bring light to a void this dark.

MR. ADVO
(Lets the quiet rest before standing to slowly clap for the young man)
A beautiful speech, truly. Yet, the trial is already decided. These two will walk free.

MRS. KLEPT and MR. PYR

(in unison)
No!

MR. ONN
They both have confessed, Mr. Advo! Let their fates be sealed.

MR. ADVO
My dear boy, there are some things a senior lawyer like myself can’t stand. And one of those things is letting his clients get what they want.

MR. ONN
(Rolls his eyes, staring at the jurist with deep contempt)
The judge will just send both away if both have confessed as they have said.

Mr. Advo would pick up his coat from the rack, slowly putting it on in silence. He would head for the door saying:

MR. ADVO
You can know the law all you want; it is better to know the judge.
 

Mr. Advo winks to Mr. Onn and the audience.

The scene ends, and the curtain closes as both Mrs. Klept and Mr. Pyr run after the man screaming that they are guilty. Mr. Onn is left center stage, his head down, and his ideals crushed by reality.

 

 

 

 

Celestiality and Sin

by Zel

@Kur0

 

CAST

 

Khela -A delirious dark elven woman, obsessed with her lover Virallim, addicted to wine, has an overly elaborated speech pattern.

 

Virallim -A self-deprecating high elven woman, quite modest with her emotions, idealizes death.

 

Gehrartic -A witch hunter mage that controls flames.

 

 

Spoiler

 

CURTAIN RISES with a coast like scenery up a hill, twilight stars riddle the sky.

 

VIRALLIM and KHELA lay upon the high leveled grass, stargazing. They both drink from bottles of wine.

 

VIRALLIM

A holy sight; grim lights upon us.

Thou remain the closest,

At such I implore;

Do not betray me.

 

Virallim DRINKS  from the bottle.

 

KHELA

Thy veil-- thy truth,

All dear, for I bond this hand,

This soul, to your will.

Without such, I wander in hollows,

The grim lights vanish, purpose falls,

Do you bear other qualms?

 

VIRALLIM

A maiden that infatuates a spectre,

My former lover. O Khela, perhaps

Thou deservest a more fitting consort,

I may as well be too wretched for

Thy ichor I yearn for, the eyes you

Possess, the pale visage of your

Scornish kin. Tell me, woman;

Would thou harm another

In the name of affection?

 

KHELA

If  God craves it upon my sins,

Though here art we, communing

Under the stars of the lord,

Vital, unperished, for

These trespasses are the truth;

You surely yield the curse.

We whom shalt corrupt, ease

Delusional mundanities,

Transcend the doctrines of truth.

 

Khela GULPS  from the bottle, GRIPS  from her chest.

 

VIRALLIM

Where to grasp the truth, my dear?

From the genuine actions of despair?

 

Virallim GLANCES at Khela.

 

KHELA

From belittled q u eer emotions;

Gaze in thyself, feel my convictions,

You’ll certainly graze the virtue,

As the other; the fervorous reason

For my madness.

 

VIRALLIM

Why should I be by your side?

If such detriment I bestow,

A drive for deploring,

To grow hollows at your feet,

To be cause of your--

Decadence…

 

KHELA

Truly so;

I embrace you as I do life.

My soul will quaver

If your figure is ever to depart.

O, how I long for your blissfoil gaze.

 

VIRALLIM

I am but your punitive hope,

Sorrow at your chances,

Mischievous, unholy;

And yet you stay?

 

KHELA

Surely, no qualms may sway me,

Even so, I choose to sway you!

To this plight riddled path

I held your hand with a pulse of violence,

I drag you in the somber venture,

We descend the thorny dykes--

Thriving impassively,

Eloquently bonded.

Cease your worries dear,

All is naught, the gloom

Cowers from the spurious;

With all, we grasp the truth.

 

Khela DRAWS the bottle to her lips, QUAFFING its contents vigorously.

 

VIRALLIM

You leave me fazed with those words,

Should I believe this-- you, as nothing akin to a mirage?

 

KHELA

I ponder as well;

I lose awareness and my senses decline,

As this raving draught I partake,

Your lavish image melts;

Are the stars we gaze at true?

 

VIRALLIM

Luminant corpses of those who reigned,

Death as well might be an illusion.

 

KHELA

Their end was light to others ahead,

Hence the lifeless vessels still mock us down.

 

VIRALLIM

They’re impure tyrants, deserving of said fate.

 

KHELA

Fated with off putting venerance,

Our eyes do not lie, this sight is

Nothing, thus sublime.

 

VIRALLIM

Should they have remained as insipid ashes,

The nightfall would gloom eternally…

 

KHELA

By all of God's mercy, may they fall upon us;

Perish all, scar the earth from its desires.

 

Virallim HOLDS Khela as she prays.

 

VIRALLIM

I feel the arduous heat, that of thy spirit.

 

Bright red flames SURROUND the elves unnoticed

 

KHELA

The bondings weaken, our yearnings have unlocked

The passage of the broken.

 

VIRALLIM

Broken we shall be, your warmth grows further,

Your ashen skin, does it claim its old form?

 

KHELA

I crave the ethereal,  even so, my skin is reluctant,

I am terribly burdened with the soma, should I

Dispose of it at chance. Virallim, do you reciprocate?

With this unholy sentiment-- my current vices?

 

VIRALLIM

I must be thy sculptor, as long as the great elusive

Is not concerned for this sentence.

 

KHELA

Then I’m in hands of the elusive one,

Unless this feverish state is the

Passion you grant me!

 

Virallim TURNS  her gaze, now aware of the flames that embrace them; her fingers GESTURE at them.

 

VIRALLIM

No, Khela, gaze ahead, the stars have fallen,

Our schemes have wrathed the vassals of God!

 

KHELA

Our schemes have met their clause,

Am I to be fulfilled? As the celestial remains

Seize our will, my yearning is strongly nigh.

 

 

VIRALLIM

At once, my dear, you'll satiate and I shall drink of thy ichor.

 

KHELA

The pleasure is thine, Vira.

 

Khela GRINS, granting her vessel for Virallim to PIERCE.

 

VIRALLIM

So be it.

 

A curled knife is drawn towards Khela's chest, a quavering groan is emitted as stabbed, blood coughed from her mouth.

 

KHELA

Now, drink my love! Sculpt me dearly! Claim my hollow soul, purge thee from sin!

 

VIRALLIM

With this lock, I bear your wishes; as the contract is formed, shall you thrive as ever.

 

They KISS. Virallim DRINKS from her blood. The knife is removed and Khela FALLS on the ground, lifeless.

 

VIRALLIM

Thus, our druery remains eternal…

 

ENTER GEHRARTIC as a silhouetted shadow within the flames. Virallim NOTICES his figure.

 

VIRALLIM

Who intrudes my endearing vestige?

 

GEHRARTIC

Blasphemous witch! The fires will perish your nefarious nature!

 

Gehrartic SHOOTS flaming projectiles at her. Virallim SCREAMS violently, is riddled with flames, shakes the corpse of her former lover, attempting to awaken  her from death.

 

CURTAIN FALLS

 

 

 

Angustia

by B.L.

@Sweet Plants

 

CAST

 

The Press -  Five journalists. Some local, others foreign.

 

Amelia Adnet-Molina - Imprisoned for cooperation with insurgents of the State. Daughter of Aurora. Niece of Maximillian.

 

Claude Adnet - Woeful, fearful, and worried mother of Amelia.

 

The Brothers Équité - Dead insurgents and classists.

 

General Maximillian Molina - Authority of the State and Amelia's captor.

 

 

ACT i | THE WORLD

 

Spoiler

 

JOURNALIST #1:

Local! Amelia, who defied the authority of our most maximum institutions with her participation in the successes of the past thirteenth of April is still detained within the Palace jail.

 

JOURNALIST #2:

International. Averell Harriman, ambassador of Haense, defends the military governments of his vassals by saying they are entirely distinct to those of the crueler Mali’aheral of Haulen’or.

 

JOURNALIST #3:

Local! The Grand General Maximillian Molina will today receive a visit from His Eminience Monsenor Baptiste Escudero, making it the first official visit from a distinguished clergyman since the thirteenth of April.

 

JOURNALIST #4:

International. The inquiry for a state of emergency made by Governor Johnson has received a backing of three million Marks, destined to make up the financial battlements against the Llyric Front. This motion was approved unanimously by the various Ministries of Haense.

 

JOURNALIST #5:

Local! The criminal Amelia Adnet, who burried the cadavers of the insurgents of the last thirteenth of April, has resisted interrogation from the higher authorities of the State.

 

JOURNALIST #1:

International. The President of the Fig League opinionated today that the worldwide crisis is centered on Yong-Ping’s authorities, the reason for which those who care for the country should buy local produce.

 

JOURNALIST #2:

Local! The Grand General Maximillian Molina has declared a grand public event to be held next Sunday at Bolivar Avenue to speak on the dangers of poor unity and work ethic.

 

JOURNALIST #3:

International. The prominent Renatian writer Jean Paul Sartre rejected the Silver Poet’s Literature Prize on conviction that creative labor should not be awarded by any one-true organization.

 

JOURNALIST #4:

Local! The Grand General Maximillian Molina informs that the event of the last thirteenth of April was orchestrated by ideologies foreign to our pious way of life.

 

JOURNALIST #4:

International. The Secretary of State of Helena, Dean Rusk, declared that Helena will continue intervening unilaterally so long as it’s necessary to defend Humanity’s scope of influence from Yong-Ping’s faulty economic systems.

 

 

 

ACT ii | THE FAMILY

 

Spoiler

 

CLAUDE:

Amelia… Amelia!

 

The voice is far away and belongs to AMELIA’s mother, CLAUDE. Since the dar is dense, we know not the origin of the voice – only that it draws near. AMELIA sits in her cell, lethargic.

 

AMELIA:

Because I went against that order… (sarcastically) perfect. Those under that today lay under the earth by the will of my hands. Hector Équité, Mario Équité. Shot down. Dead. Buried.

 

CLAUDE, mother of AMELIA, walks onstage – followed by two rigid soldiers at either flank. They are customary to have when visiting prisoners. CLAUDE is a fragile woman, dressed in a chiffon suit that highlights her wightly figure. Her shoulders are dainty, and pointy. She fidgets with a handkerchief in her hands, features churned with dismay. AMELIA’S cell opens, and she walks forwards – ensnaring her mother in an embrace. The newsmen act as the backdrop of the scene, and can be seen writing in notepads and whispering amongst one another – though they’re never heard.

 

CLAUDE:

Amelia, my little Amelia…

 

AMELIA:

Mother.

 

CLAUDE:

I wanted to come see you the very night they took you but, they wouldn’t let anyone in. (apprehensively) Are you alright?

 

AMELIA:

I’m great, Mother.

 

CLAUDE:

Amelia, oh Amelia… If only your father were alive to see you! His little Amelia, ensorcelled by iron bars like a criminal… like a woman without class… without a surname… without… (with love) my Amelia...

 

AMELIA:

(tenderly)

Mother, the women you claim don't have class, don’t have surnames – they don’t deserve an unjust sentencing, either.

 

CLAUDE:

… You don’t understand me, no, you never understand me. I am trying to say that there are people for everything: people who can be in jail and not be an affront, people who have no greater aspiration other than eating thrice a day. You are not made for those extremes. You’re well-raised, celebrated – the daughter and niece of military men, signaled for a surname revered in the entire State. Nothing less than a Adnet and Molina!

 

AMELIA:

Nothing less than human, Mother. Everything else hangs. The surnames, the chosen circles; they’re signs of a way of life that is not mine.

 

CLAUDE:

The world is only one way, Amelia. Main characters, secondary characters – and the chorus. So it has been, so it currently is and so it will always be.

 

AMELIA turns to the crowd.

 

AMELIA:

Mother is inflexible when we speak about definitions. The world is only one way. That is what she thinks, truly. When the country rose up against it’s tyrant, she condemned it. When the women hoist their hands against the men, she complains. When the slave rages against his master, she cannot stand for it. She defends herself to the bitter end – if it’s been so all these years up to today, why should it change? It would not worry me if this was the interpretation of a woman who had lived in ostentation, from privilege, from praise. No. My mother's voice is dangerously common. At her flanks, there are more – those who resist all change, those who can only ask…

 

AMELIA turns back to CLAUDE, who resumes the conversation.

 

CLAUDE:

Where do you sleep…?

 

AMELIA:

Where you sleep!

 

CLAUDE:

Is the food good…?

 

AMELIA:

The food is good!

 

CLAUDE:

Aren’t you scared of what the newspapers read…?

 

AMELIA:

Aren’t you scared of what the newspapers read, she says – at her sides, there are those who say…

 

CLAUDE: 

Amelia, your ideas are useless. Dragons and boogiemen, and in the end: I’m still your knight.

 

AMELIA:

… the useless kind.

 

CLAUDE sighs and glances left and right, impatient – worried.

 

CLAUDE:

Where do you sleep?

 

AMELIA:

Here.

 

CLAUDE:

But, where- where?

 

AMELIA:

On the floor. On the stairs. Wherever drowsiness surprises me. My back has gotten used to it.

 

CLAUDE:

On the floor, like a beast. Without a blanket to fight the cold.

 

AMELIA:

The cold does not make it all the way down to this cell. Nothing that lives off freedom comes down here. The political prisoners, they do. The General needs neighbors. 

 

CLAUDE:

(complaining)

My Amelia, buried in this dark…

(Protectively)

When you were a child, you were scared of the dark.

 

AMELIA:

Naturally. I was only eight.

 

CLAUDE:

(reminiscing)

Eight years old and with the attitude of an adult; of an elderly woman. Your father and I would laugh when you put that grave frown on your lips and asked with urgency about the problems of the State. We had fun, and we were amazed by you. We were happy. If you were a man… I’d keep my mutterings, I’d hide them. I’d summon the courage to scream at you: go, my son, keep going. If you were a man. But you are nothing more than a woman. Shut up and embroider, Amelia. Look where you are…

 

AMELIA:

Us women have to complain as well; fight injustices. Or does suffering only swallow men? Like, the brothers?

 

CLAUDE:

(frustrated)

Godan, Amelia- please! Those boys are already dead!

 

AMELIA:

What do you know about living and dying?

 

CLAUDE:

Amelia!

 

AMELIA:

Mother… fear is everywhere. It’s in this Palace. It’s in the General.

 

The two soldiers suddenly brandish their blades, warning the pair.

 

CLAUDE:

Lower your voice…

 

AMELIA:

This time, it was my turn. Later, it will be other’s.

 

CLAUDE:

(selfishly, dismayed)

The others are not my children.

 

AMELIA:

They are not. But their absence still rips at someone’s sanity. Your pain is so similar to theirs. (With deep tenderness) Now, go. The General will be here soon. I don’t want him to have the privilege of hearing our woes.

 

CLAUDE:

Will he let me return?

 

AMELIA:

(certain)

He needs you to. He needs everything I care about to visit me.

 

CLAUDE:

(holding Amelia’s head)

Amelia, you suffer.

 

AMELIA:

No.

 

The soldiers usher CLAUDE out of the cell. AMELIA sits. The curtain falls for an intermission.

 

 

 

ACT iii | THE TRUTH

 

 

Spoiler

 

The curtain rises. Suddenly, soldiers surround the cell. They strike at flint and steel when MAXIMILLIAN commands it, lighting torches and illuminating the cell. AMELIA sits at the center. MAXIMILLIAN dons military attire, decorated fully – hat brimming his tan skin. His hair’s a salt-and-peppery hue, and he stands firmly – albeit, calmly.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

Lights! When the General comes down to his cellars; the General is still the General. The ladder is still the ladder. The prisoners are still the prisoners. The night is not meant for loitering. Leisure is a poison. Get up.

 

AMELIA:

Maximillian's nature is offensive. It’s his fighting policy.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

I want you to attend to me. I am attended to by looking straight ahead.

 

AMELIA:

Maximillian is a formidable fighter.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

It is an old modal that you have yet to learn, busy as you are in playing conspirator.

 

AMELIA:

Maximillian speaks with affected elegance. That tone gives him an air that prostrates the militia. His boot makes itself felt -- in here, peace; in the Seven Skies, glory—in the State of Maximillian, order.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

Today, the deadline that my mercy gave you expires. For twelve long days I have required that you fulfill a citizen’s inescapable duty. One who recognizes the supreme authority in the State. With much tolerance, you have been asked to return some bodies that belong to no one: call her Amelia, call him Maximillian, because they belong to the state, the head of which is its General. The General has condescended your statement day by day, motivated by a very expensive virtue: patience. But the General is weighted ... balanced ... exact in the distribution of his virtues and does not know how to exaggerate any of them. The General would have preferred a confession that would have allowed him to forgo the ...

 

AMELIA:

Beatings ...

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

Discipline.

 

AMELIA:

Abuse ...

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

Rigor.

 

AMELIA:

Torture ...

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

Pressure the guards had to resort to. I notice that they had spent three nights in the basements without fulfilling the obligation that their superior had imposed on them, your words -- not through negligence or ignorance on their part ...

 

AMELIA:

Not through negligence or ignorance.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

... but because of your stubbornness in keeping quiet about what you are now going to gladly tell me. Without bitterness. Without anger. No hatred, little Amelia. The law gives me the power to order the execution of anyone who, in my judgement, threatens national security. In your case, I chose to give you, for your temperament, the opportunity to make a plea ... or ultimately, a defense. I am interested in your life, girl – I want to see that you promptly rejoin the society you have missed. I am not going to allow an outrage, an inconsequential adventure, a night of misguided passion to jeopardize your possibilities as a young woman. We are going to speak as friends ... as colleagues ... as colleagues who need each other. Amelia, where did you bury the subversives?

 

AMELIA:

In their land.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

(more firmly)

Amelia, where did you bury the subversives?

 

AMELIA:

In their land.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

(tired)

Good. The answer is correct: in their land. Correct in that the Équité brothers were born, lived -- died here. Correct in that our noble State welcomes all its children, without discriminating against those who did not know how to exalt it. Correct, despite the fact that a sick ambition led the Équité brothers to embrace disgusting ideologies ...

 

AMELIA:

With that card, you’ll win everyone over, won’t you?

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

... ideologies that are repugnant to our pious way of life. This interrogation has started well. Your willingness to talk pleases me. Moreover, I'm excited. The newspapers need to know immediately about your change of attitude. (To the soldiers) Communicate to the press that General Maximillian Molina will receive them at any time and has gotten Amelia to speak. Advise the halt of afternoon edits.

 

AMELIA turns to the crowd.

 

AMELIA:

They won’t print the afternoon edition, worried I might say what could unleash hysteria. The press in the State is a committee of Maximillian's single party, a committee undermined by the sensational.

 

AMELIA turns back to MAXIMILLIAN.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

The second question. What relationship did you have with the subversives? That of fellow students, cannot be. The Équité were engineers. They never finished that race. You, on the other hand, studied history. Friendship – that could not be it, either. The Équité were classists, they were not going to befriend a girl whom her own mother was forced to throw out of the house.

 

AMELIA:

Maximillian’s gone senile. Maximillian exhausted his repertoire of intrigues.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

A love interest, perhaps? Better said, some shady relationship in which Amelia was a hired ****? Impossible. Héctor Équité was castrated in a street brawl.

 

AMELIA:

Maximillian classifies as a street brawl what was an ambush by his bodyguards.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

Your accusations need the backing of evidence. The protocol that was followed against the attackers of Héctor Équité was brilliant in all its aspects. Justice ordered the guilty be exiled, and exiled they are.

 

AMELIA:

Precious opportunity to get out of three dissidents who had nothing to do with the attack. Instead, the reward for the thugs was a seat in the highest international body…

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

*****. Charlatan. Love interest. Rumors speak that Mario Équité suffered from a… serious limitation in the fight with the opposite sex.

 

AMELIA:

I can testify to the contrary.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

Enough. When asked what relationship you had with the subversives, the prisoner confessed: “mistress to one of them”. I will communicate to the press that the challenge that Amelia Adnet made to the highest authorities of the State was motivated by a sinuous, scandalous relationship between her and the subversives.

 

AMELIA:

I accept your rules. Quickly, and very simply... Amelia claims the third question: ask me, Maximillian, what weapons did the Équité brothers use when they attacked you?

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

The Équité attacked the will of the people.

 

AMELIA:

They attacked the enemy of a town, led by a General who silences dissidents with arrows.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

There is a party that opposes mine in the State, Amelia.

 

AMELIA:

A party that you yourself created -- a party that you subsidize at your leisure, that argues to disfavor the arguments that you, tyrant, point out to them. The third question, won’t you ask it?

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

My government is not a tyranny. There you are and there are your petty expletives. You, loose, through the basements, almost free -- or free outright, given you have my soldiers who watch over, protect, and defend your freedom.

 

AMELIA:

If you will not take care of how I’ve expressed my freedom now, how could you take it from me later, Maximillian? The third question, please.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

… Death at your age seems like heroism. In my State, there is no place for heroes.

 

AMELIA:

The third question.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

What did the Équité aspire to achieve?

 

AMELIA:

The crisis that would cause your death.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

What force was behind the Équité?

 

AMELIA:

None.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

Wrong. Terrorists outside our tradition of devout, faithful people. The Équité used powerful weapons. Where did they get them from?

 

AMELIA:

A Courlandish manufacturer; A Renatian blacksmith; a ridiculous arsenal of old weapons from old plans that you never materialized, in the military’s bastion.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

The burial of those cowards needed collaborators. First, that of a man or a woman who would plant the gunpowder in the library to attract the attention of my guards. Second, that of a man or a woman, preferably a man, who would help load the bodies into the carriage. Third, that of a man or a woman who would help you dig the graves. Give me those names. I need those names.

 

AMELIA:

There aren't any.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

Make them up.

 

AMELIA:

You could do that with better judgement than I could. Here it is: your opportunity for an effective purge. All the people you dislike.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

Where did you bury the Équité? Tell me and I will forget that you have slighted me; I will forget that you defied Maximillian's law, we will forget together. Take advantage of my generosity, child. Tell me where you buried them and you will meet your peers again.

 

AMELIA:

In their land, General Maximillian Molina; in the land that corresponds to their bodies; in the land where your law does only you and your cabinet justice.

 

MAXIMILLIAN:

… So then, I’ll please you. I will please you, Amelia. You delight in pain, to willingly sit in this cell. Amelia, you will have all the pain you like. Soldiers, to her. Mercilessly.

 

The torches are snuffed out. The curtains close. In the dark, the newsmen reappear – and soldiers flank them, reigniting the fire behind them.

 

JOURNALIST #1:

International. The Lady Charlotte Vunderburg, wife of Hanseti-Ruskan governor Atreus Vunderburg, will enjoy her vacations in the Elven mountains.

 

JOURNALIST #2:

Local! The criminal Amelia, one of the most dangerous delinquents of the State, finally met her fate with the law today.

 

JOURNALIST #3:

International. The famous seamstress Claude Devereux has announced a new line of clothes for the men and is personally making measurements.

 

JOURNALIST #4:

Local! The dangerous Amelia confessed before her execution the location where the Équité brothers have been buried.

 

JOURNALIST #5:

International. The famous stars Elizabeth Abigail and Madame Fig have declared a collaborative work: “Who delights in the Ivy?” -- a tragic comedy written by the distinguished author Perriwinkle Daleworth.

 

FIN

 

 

 

A Nocturne to a Wild Flower

by Kaia Faust

@RaindropsKeepFalling

 

Dedicated to Basileos Balthazar Baelius, my late father.

 

CAST

 

Nadia - A young, modern woman of tomboyish fashion with brunette hair, and of a short stature.  She left her home young, now returning to face old memories.

 

Young Nadia - A younger, innocent, mirthful Nadia full of vigor, between the ages of 8 and 12. 

 

Bennett - Nadia’s late father, a stern, older man: tall. 

 

Rhett - Nadia’s lover, her significance, a soft voiced young man with dark hair of an average height with thin, pale features. 

 

Spoiler

 

CURTAIN RISE on the setting that is an old, abandoned living room covered in dust. It would have once been gloriously lavish, with ragged silken curtains and a nice coffee table. It is of Providence’s style. Separated by a small barrier at STAGE-LEFT: a wall, is a second room. It is an old bedroom, with an old master-bed. At the right side, there is a “door.”

 

ENTER STAGE-RIGHT, NADIA: a young woman with brown hair and a bittersweet face.

 

She pauses to take in the surroundings, tracing her palm alongside the furniture and living room. She observes everything, and acknowledges everything before coming to a stop CENTER-STAGE

 

          NADIA:

          How familiar, little has changed.

          Only the age, the moments.

          Albeit, darker, in…

 

She checks a POCKET WATCH.

 

          NADIA:

          -Midnight hours.

          So clearly, so bridge it was

          in that time so long ago.

          I’d come to this room.

          (she glances forward.)

          I’d glance out the window and

          scribe peculiar phrases.

 

NADIA sighs.

 

NADIA:
          Since those rose tinted impressions

of seconds, the sun has fallen. But, I’d not want to forget.

 

Her expression falls into a grimace, shrinking as she crosses her arms and shuffles around the room once more.

 

          NADIA:
          Every detail, everyday:

          I would know the intricacies.

          For, when I leave again, it would be a portrait in my mind,

          and a melody I knew the lyrics to.

 

SUDDENLY, a younger NADIA enters STAGE-RIGHT. Alongside her is a middle-aged MAN: BENNETT. He appears stern, while YOUNG NADIA is a bundle of energy.

 

NADIA watches the two as a spectator.

 

          YOUNG NADIA:

          I’d like to frolic further.

 

          BENNETT:
          (deadpan)
          We can not always play. It is getting late, dark.

 

          YOUNG NADIA:

          That is when it is fun!

          Sarah taught me to catch fireflies.

          They’re little stars, beside us.

          They don’t come out ‘till night’s reign.

 

          BENNETT:
          When was this?

 

          YOUNG NADIA:

          (ignoring him)

          Pa, I’d like to be a star.

         

          BENNETT:
          You’d like to be known?
 

          YOUNG NADIA:
          No! I’d like to bask in

          the moonlight as one of them,

          so pretty. Then, I’d like to be

          gone in the morning. Then, I’d do it all again.

 

          BENNETT:

          (pausing)
          Go to bed, Nadia.

 

The duo of NADIA’s memory exits STAGE-LEFT; NADIA sighs, falling down to the sofa CENTER-STAGE.

 

          NADIA:

          A silly dream in a sleepy

          child’s psyche. The passerby night,

          it’s appeal escapes me.

          Yet, I yearn for the starlight.

          As a knowing soul, that in the morning,

          all that I knew would be gone.

         

 

She stands, once more, checking her pocket watch.

 

          NADIA:
          Your funeral was so brief.

          It was in the morn, and it was stillvthe morn by its end.  Fitting, as you were pragmatic.

          Yet, I wonder what they’d say.

          My young sister, she I do not know. My brother, gone.

          My mother, who sat in this very chair.

 

NADIA gestures to the dusty chair at the couch's side.

 

ENTER BENNETT, STAGE-LEFT. His expression is blank, gait of a mannequin.  NADIA moves across to him, placing a hand on his frozen shoulder.

 

          NADIA:

          I’d say, you were never there in

          the daylight, but neither was I.

          I was your disappointment in such

          a facet. I grew up in this house, father.

          But, it was so foreignly peculiar.

         

BENNETT has no answer, only neutrally moving past to EXIT STAGE-RIGHT. NADIA is left alone, without answers to her late father.

 

          NADIA:

          Was it you, or I, to

          break this family apart

          into fractures?  I’d gone,

          as a star. In the day, I’d gone.

          In the night, I was elsewhere.

          A star, but a lonesome one in the

          blind sky.  Where were you?

          The sun, I as your daughter, you as

          my distant father?

          I could not stare you in the face; it would blind me.

          We were so far away, in the cosmos.

 

NADIA FALLS to her knees in her yelling at no one in particular. She sniffles.  She is alone for a long while, frozen upon the ground in her old home.

 

ENTER STAGE-RIGHT, RHETT.  He’s a young man, her age, with black hair and a worried look.  He wields a lantern, promptly setting it down as he reaches her.

 

          RHETT:
          Nadia!

 

          NADIA:

          Rhett…

 

          RHETT:
          Where were you, I looked.

 

          NADIA:
          I’ve just awaken from a terrible

          dream, Rhett.

 

          RHETT:
          You disappeared.

 

          NADIA:
          As I did years ago, from this very city-state.

          Only to run back to the cage as they rumored I would.

 

          RHETT:

          (approaching)

          Dear, I don’t understand.

 

          NADIA:
          I could not overcome the plight of

          a reminiscence. My father is dead, and I’m

          astray in this abandoned labyrinth I vanished

          from as a mere adolescent. I was scarcely adequate here.

          I left, to find I was scarcely adequate in the night.

         

          RHETT:
          You are a restless soul-

 

          NADIA:
          It is no excuse, Rhett.

          The judges and their gavels- I doubt they’d approve.

          I shan’t be happy in the day,

          nor the night. I plead guilty.

 

THEY PAUSE…

 

          NADIA:

          I couldn't return. I would be blinded,

          by the imprint of the waking day’s

          ray’s.  I’d adjusted to the

          night so thoroughly. Fearful, as a

          coward. That is all I am.

          I sought to never be trapped, but

          now I float amid the skies with no

          ladder to descend.

          On the ground, they viewed me as I was.

          That is why I flew.

(She pauses.)
          I dreamt of more.

 

          RHETT:

          Dear Nadia, you are

          not a star. You are a sailor.

 

          NADIA:

          What?
 

          RHETT:

          I know they have not been

          there, always. Yet, have I?

          No.  There is no eternity in

          either side of the coin, no answer.

          The head or the tail, the father

          or the daughter, the sun or the moon?

          You search for their direction North, no?
          There is no fairytale, only life’s nightlight.

 

          NADIA:

          He is dead, Rhett. There is no chance.

 

          RHETT:
          Shan’t you join your living siblings?

          We are in twilight, Nadia. It’s fleeting, and present.

 

          NADIA:

(thinking)
          But miraculous, yes?

 

NADIA STANDS to her feet.

 

          NADIA:
          It is a transformation.

          It is a dance, and movement.

          It is a contrasting cycle.

          Yet, we are of it’s balanced

          scale. We are blooming flora.

 

RHETT smiles and moves to leave STAGE-LEFT. NADIA runs after him.

 

NADIA:
          Are you too, a delusion?

 

YOUNG NADIA enters STAGE-RIGHT, standing behind NADIA in curiosity.

 

          RHETT:
          Nadia, you are my love, and I am a figment of your’s.

 

          NADIA:
          Why are you elsewhere?
 

          RHETT:

          (shrugging)
          Find me, alongside your family. Write a letter.

 

          NADIA:
          You’ll be there?

 

          RHETT:
          Not always, but from sunrise ‘till setting.

          Catch the sunrise, and don’t hesitate.

          Wake up.

 

          NADIA:

          Wait, I’m uncertain. I’d not like to be alone!

 

          RHETT:

          Don’t be so lonesome.

          Face the sun.

          The world you’re in is bright.

          You’re bright, Nadia.

 

RHETT exits STAGE-LEFT.  NADIA faces YOUNG NADIA, smiling genuinely for the first time. She is not trying to escape. Peacefully, she too EXITS with her younger half, STAGE-RIGHT. On the way, she drops her pocket watch.  The girl and woman hold hands.

 

CURTAINS FALL

 

 

 

The Kiss of the Stars

by Olaurae Divadri

@TheBigBubbles

 

CAST

 

Margaret Wihara - A teenage noblewoman and lover of art.

 

Maria Arslan - A young woman in love with Margaret. 

 

Figure - A mysterious figure observing the scene with ill-intent.

 

 

Spoiler

 

THE CURTAIN RISES - it is a dim scene, blue and purple stage-lights would be in use to create the sense of dusk. Stars are dotted across the scene. There is a sprawling river in the background and a sizable rock in the foreground to the right.

 

A teenage noble woman, 17, Margaret Wihara, is dressed in a simple flowy gown, her blonde locks sprawling over the rock and her paper as she draws the stars. She sits atop the rock, quickly smiling to the figure entering.

 

The figure, Maria Arslan, 18, enters in armour obscuring her figure, she comes to sit by the woman, peering over her shoulder at the art, she places a hand on her shoulder, Margaret then looks up and breaks into a beam.

 

Someone stands in the background, dressed the same as Maria, just out of view.

 

MARGARET

 

“You startled me!”

 

Margaret chuckles, swiping a strand of hair away from her face.

 

MARIA

 

“Rubbish, you were expecting me. I can see it plastered over your face.”

“I brought you something.”

 

MARGARET

 

Margaret looks up from her drawing to the figure

“What would that be?”

 

 

 

MARIA

 

Maria holds out a necklace, tying it around Margaret’s neck, pulling out a matching one and tying it around her own, tucking the necklace into Margaret’s dress.

 

“Don’t let them see.”

 

MARGARET

 

Margaret nods, closing her sketch-book and turning to face Maria, she slowly lifts Maria’s helmet, looking about, revealing Maria’s long brown curls.

 

“How long has it been since that first night?”

 

Margaret says looking to the skies.

 

MARIA

 

“Around four saints days I’d say”

 

Maria looks up as well, perching by the noblewoman. Tucking the necklace to her chest.

 

MARGARET

 

Margaret reaches over, pulling her legs near, stroking through Maria’s hair.

 

“Every second I spend under these stars I think, this is the best moment in my life, and then every second later I realise the next moment exceeds the first.”

 

MARIA

 

Maria Leans against Margaret’s shoulder,

 

“I think I am fall-”

 

she is cut off by Margaret leaning in to kiss her, met with the face of Margaret, Maria stutters,

 

“-ing for you.”

 

Maria leans in a swell, closing her eyes.

 

MARGARET

 

“I don’t think, I know.”

 

Margaret parts her lips, kissing Maria.

 

The two separate from their kiss and look out to the skies for a few moments, Maria goes to hold Margaret’s hand again using her other to open the sketch-book.

 

MARIA

 

“What’s new?”

 

Maria asks as she flips through the pages.

 

MARGARET

 

Margaret points to each one of note,

 

“That one is us, I thought to recreate our first meeting.”

 

“That one is my brother at his violin lessons, looks so stiff.”

 

“Ah- now this one I’ve not finished, I was making it for you.”

 

MARIA

 

“It’s beautiful… what does it mean?”

 

MARGARET

 

“I’m not certain yet, I had to include the stars but-”

“I felt something was missing.”

 

MARIA

 

“It’s perfect the way it is.”

 

Maria looks about the place, quickly placing her helmet back on,

 

“I think I might be needed.”

 

Each actor stays on stage, in a Brechtian manner, one of the ensemble enters from the left, and reads out a letter,

 

“Margaret, I crave your embrace, your sweet honeysuckle lips, and your paintings; I must see it. I have missed you, it feels like millennia have passed, we are not elves, let us see each other again. With love Maria.”

 

The member of the ensemble exits to the right, handing the letter to Margaret where she stands. Maria exits to the right, handing her necklace to the figure that was previously out of view as he enters from the right out of his corner.

 

Margaret looks over to him,

 

MARGARET

 

“Maria!”

 

Margaret throws her arms around the figure,

 

“I got your letter, I was working on the piece and-”

 

Margaret pulls out the drawing, it had been torn to pieces, stuck to a canvas and drawn over, stars would be dotted over the page and painted in great detail.

 

“I hope you like it, I think- well, I was thinking that it makes more sense for us to have been built atop of our pasts? We are the stars now, but our history and the history of our nation plays a part? Don’t laugh… I know it’s generic isn’t it?”

 

FIGURE

 

The figure stays completely silent, only glancing at the drawing for a moment, some hesitation would be visible.

 

 

MARGARET

 

“What? You don’t like it? What’s wrong? Maria…?”

 

Margaret opens up her arms, approaching the figure for a hug before glancing down and seeing the necklace in the figure’s hand, she would visibly furrow her brows as the hug took place.

 

FIGURE

 

The figure pulls out a glistening blade from its holster as the hug is taking place and sends it straight toward Margaret’s gut. The figure pulls off his helmet revealing a man, holding a striking resemblance to Margaret. The figure stares down in utter disgust.

 

MARGARET

 

Margaret looks up, her face pained and distraught,

 

“Brother, why? W- w-why?”

 

she stutters, holding her wound and is on her knees.

 

FIGURE

 

“Sister, to think you would ever be under the impression that our family would stand for so- so, vile, you are mistaken.”

 

The figure tosses the blade into the river, staring down at Margaret.

 

MARGARET

 

“Vile?”

 

Margaret spits blood at her brother, slumping against the rock, she reaches for the drawing, bloodying the page, she squeezes the paper, crumpling it in her hand.

 

“Did you… even ever care to meet her?”

 

FIGURE

 

The figure offers no response, only tossing the other necklace at her, walking off stage.

 

 

Margaret brings the necklace to her chest as well as the painting, crying as the life fades from her, her grip loosens the painting it is sent flying across the stage and into the audience.

 

CURTAINS CLOSE

 

 

 

[libertyybelle 5475]

The GOVERNESS of the Augustine submitted her support for her friend- Brandt’s- play.