Nitroflak
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September 2023 Battle of the Arts - Harvest Festival
Nitroflak replied to Amayonnaise's topic in Announcements
IGN: Nitroflak DISCORD: nitr0flak CATEGORY: Creative Writing TITLE OF YOUR PIECE: A Blue Ribbon Pumpkin: A Play by Sendrenx hal'Cingedoz If I posted the thread in the wrong spot please let me know. I just looked where a past submission for this contest had been posted. -
A Blue Ribbon Pumpkin by Sendrenx hal'Cingedoz An Excerpt Characters for Scene Grimaz: A poor farmer who spends less time working than he probably should The Winter Sprites: A group of 4 fey who with little magic of their own, promise much. Act 1 Scene 1 Enter Grimaz and Winter Sprites. Grimaz holds in his hand a poor misshapen pumpkin that bears a disheartened look to match his own. In the other, a bag with his lunch and a bottle of wine inside. Grimaz (To Audience) Oh, what a slipshod time it is. For me to find myself with nought but a pumpkin of unkind countenance to offer for the autumn festival. Alas, ruined am I! Struck down, bankrupt- (Grimaz notices the Winter Sprites). Wait a moment... should fortune be so gracious as to look my way. To gift mine weary hands with the loving outreach of our nature’s children? (Grimaz approaches the Winter Sprites, they shy away.) Do not fear me gentle servants of the soil. I mean you no harm. Many can speak of my character! My cunning, my kindness, my... (Grimaz looks to the audience and speaks in a stage whisper). Say something... something grand, but not so grand as to startle their temperate hearts. A moderate amount of grandness shall be best! (After the audience speaks their ideas, it is best to incorporate one or two as fits the rhythm of the scene. Should the audience be drunk, children, or otherwise unburdened by the art of comedy, the following will also do.) Oh, of course, my humility! Kind spirits, I beseech thee, do not abandon a simple, humble, farmer to the shame of gourdish forfeitures at no fault of his own! (Grimaz drops to both knees, holding his poor pumpkin towards the Winter Sprites. His bag falls and its contents spill out. They approach.) Sprite 1 Poor farmer, we wish that we could help but- (Sprite 4 claps a hand over the mouth of Sprite 1 as Sprite 2 strides to the front, the others eyeing the bag.) Sprite 2 (Musically) Why of course farmer, thy bidding is our call. We merely ask, a meager task, for a taste of your alcohol. A simple sip, a hasty taste, will put us wisps at ease. And then we can, for you good man, do anything you please! (Grimaz hands them his wine from the ground.) Sprite 3 And of course he’ll, provide a morsel, of freshly baked wheat bread. A simple labor, for the woodland neighbor, and we’ll do as you’ve said. (Grimaz, a bit more relentingly hands over his bread.) Sprite 1 (Breaks free and steps forward) I want cheese. (He is promptly pulled back and silenced again by Sprite 4.) Grimaz Of course kind spirits, anything I can provide to shield my honor and virtue from the piercing claws of fairground mockery! Oh, what a joyous and exquisite day to find as kindly and helpful souls as yourselves! Take it, take all you’d wish from my satchel, please, amend my squash’s saddened visage. (He hands over the rest of his bag and the pumpkin.) Sprite 2 Then off we’ll go, and soon we’ll show, how to save your ribbon chances. We just need time, alone with your wine, to do our spritish dances. Tomorrow you’ll see, your troubles will be, a worry none the longer. By then we’ll do, all we can for you, and make you the greatest pumpkin-monger?! (Sprite 2 looks to the other sprites for confirmation on the quality of his final rhyme.) Both Grimaz and Winter Sprites look pleased with themselves before turning to the audience and in a stage whisper proclaim in unison. ALL Aha! They fell for it! (Grimaz and Winter Sprites exit stage at opposite ends) Google Docs Link in case anyone needs it. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ErK9cjnnkxfFlbkZrDbPhMrxtBjB9W4aYUSgr7CIXHQ/edit?usp=drive_link
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Replying purely to remember to come back and read this when it's not the middle of the night.
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You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” Sendrenx paused. He stared at the hag, a stern look spread across his face as he peered from one corner of the tent to the other, rolling his tongue around in his mouth searching for words. "I don't even know myself why I am here, so for you to be expecting me is quite interesting, elder." He looked around, and upon finding the small cushion across from her he moved to sit. "I guess if I'm going to tell the story of my people I best know my own story first. I was born in a small settlement at the western edge of a great forest. My father was a lumberer and farmer, and my mother was a carpenter. I learned a little of both trades but took on after my mother in time." He stopped to look to the woman again, his posture was guarded as he almost held his breath. The woman continued to remain silent, and Sendrenx relaxed as he continued to speak. "I found a passion for music, simple rhythms that became.. more. It brought people together, it made life better. I want to share that, and I want others to share their craft with me." He tapped a small hand hatchet on his hip, the blade worn from years of use but well cared for. "I still know a little bit on how to defend myself, so if my people need me for more than music, I will do my best to answer." He reached a hand out to the woman, offering to take hers in his own. "Tell me something about yourself. You seem to know a great deal." The woman smiled and began to speak, but what was said is a story to be told another time.
