Women's Writes - Works

Women's Writes

Well-behaved women seldom make history.
— Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

Day 9

Okay, so I’m a bit late today. It seems the time change messed with my head. I didn’t have any idea how late it was. Then I went to bed. I had a piece all ready, but I was in bed. But I am dedicated to you, my readers, and to women everywhere, so I got back up to post my piece, though somewhat latish, I will admit. I promise, I will do better in the future.

Today I give you a play form known as a monologue, a single person short play, often spoken directly to the audience. This monologue deals with despair, the despair we often feel when we realize the world is not like we were promised. Girls are often lied to, about life, about love…especially about love. We are raised on Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, promised all sorts of happy ever afters. But happy ever after is an illusion for most of us, and when we wake up from that illusion, it can be devastating. It feels like we have failed. And so I present for you the story of a woman who has come to realize that the love she believed in was not happy ever after.

TRANSIT OF VENUS

SETTING:      Lights are down; room is black. LAURIE’S voice comes out of the darkness.

LAURIE:

I was born under Venus rising. I was told I had an abnormally long love line. Numerous Tarot readings predicted I would be lucky in love. And when I met…him…I knew. I was truly blessed by the goddess of love.

(Lights come up. LAURIE is seated in a swivel chair, her back to the audience.)

 We fell in love. We were inseparable. Everywhere he went, I went with him. Everywhere I went, he went with me. It was the most beautiful relationship. Everyone said so. We were meant for each other. Life was poetry and moonlight. The very gods bowed as we passed, paying homage to our love. The stars trembled in the sky in honor of our passion. We lived for each other, and in each other.

 How does one get from the top of the world to the depths of hell?

 (LAURIE swivels to face us. She is wearing a straight jacket. Her feet are bare. Her hair is a mess. Her make up is streaked from crying. She is in a psychiatric hospital, speaking to an unseen psychiatrist.)

 It started slowly, so I didn’t notice. He stayed out late. I took baths that lasted hours. We didn’t want to be in each other’s company. We had nothing in common. We were together, but not together. Something else was between us, something…black. Something…ugly. I stopped eating, concerned that I was too fat for him to love. He stopped bragging to his friends about his beautiful wife. The motion accelerated, until we were moving at the speed of light in separate directions.

Venus came to me. She stood at the foot of my bed and laughed. She laughed at me. I tried to claw her eyes out, but she moved too fast. She was on the ceiling…then the floor…then through the window and back in the door before I could catch her. Venus slipped through my fingers, moving…moving…always moving, staying just beyond my grasp. She mocked my life, my love, my…everything. I wanted to kill her, but how do you kill an immortal?

Venus came every night, interrupting my sleep. She was there every morning, not allowing me to choke down my breakfast. I tried loud music to scare her off. She came the next night with ear plugs. I tried poison. She giggled as she tipped the cup and nothing happened. I tried knives, guns, ropes…nothing could destroy her.

One day I woke up, and he wasn’t there. I reached for him, hoping we could talk, could figure out what we needed, could rebuild the moonlight, the magic, the poetry. My fingers encountered only the cold flesh of Venus, lying in his place, handing me the note he left, that cold, ugly note where he laid out all my faults, all my failings. He…was gone. I was left with a cold goddess, laughing at me for trusting her, mocking me for believing in her promise. I lashed out, but she just laughed louder.

Then I saw it…the red, the blood, running over my nightgown, over the sheets, onto the floor. I felt it…the searing heat of pain, the wound she had made, the slashes on my wrists where she sunk her teeth into my flesh. I felt life flow from me, gushing from my wounded heart, my blurry eyes, and I knew…Venus killed me.

I woke up here. I don’t know how I got here, honest. I don’t remember calling 9-1-1. I don’t remember anything but Venus laughing. Laughing. Her glistening teeth red with my blood. My life lying red on the floor, and Venus, on her knees, licking it up, drinking my life.

Now I laugh at Venus. Because I am here. Because I live. She stands in the corner of my room, but she’s afraid to approach. She can’t come near me. I…I will kill Venus. Look…my love line. It’s grown shorter. It’s almost disappeared. Now the Tarot cards turn up blank. I was born in Venus rising. I was supposed to be lucky in love.

 END OF PLAY