Women's Writes - Works

Women's Writes

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

Day 26

Hi, everyone. I’m writing to you in the middle of a thunderstorm; the thunder has subsided, but it left the rain behind. That’s okay. I like rain, and we need it.

Tonight I offer you a play. It is a play that probably could never be performed onstage because of the extreme special effects. I guess maybe if someone wanted to do an animated short, but since I have no drawing skill and no movie camera, I will have to hope some movie student somewhere sees it and says “Eureka! Just what I’ve been wanting!” Probably not. Life doesn’t work that way.

Anyway, this piece is my first venture into absurdism…perhaps my last. Absurdism is hard. It seems like it should be easy, right? Well, it’s not. Trust me. And it is loaded with symbolism, perhaps the most symbolism of all my plays (make that everything, not just plays; I can think of one of my novels that comes close, but still misses it by a mile). So here it is, my view of what it feels like to be a woman.

DOORS
A play without words

CAST:
X: Young woman
JACK IN THE BOX
CLOWN
MONKEY

SETTING:   Underneath a giant octopus head. Tentacles extend onto stage from wings. Doors, nondescript.

AT RISE:  X lies on stage as if asleep.

Loud alarm sounds. X jerks but stays still. Alarm sounds again. One door opens; a tentacle reaches out, pulls X in, door slams shut.

Music. Discordant, loud, like an out of tune accordion. Stops. Drums, no rhythm, just noise. Stops. A bright light flashing. Stops. More noise – rock music mixed with classical. A chorus of gospel chimes in. Bells begin to ring. Each music style gets louder, tries to drown out the others. A country guitar begins to twang, getting louder, drowning out the other styles, which one by one cease in a gasp, a whisper, a choke. Country picking, stomping, fiddling continues, but becomes bored with its own sound, getting quieter and quieter and stopping suddenly as a tentacle lifts and slaps, gasping off into silence.

A strobe. A siren. Off, a firecracker. A scream. Silence.

A different door opens. X is ejected onstage. She stands, stumbles, batted from one side of the stage to the other by the tentacles, like a pinball. She staggers, but remains standing as she is batted back and forth, back and forth.

A scream. A siren. Silence. The tentacles fall still. X staggers, stumbles, drops to her knees, prays. Waits, looking up. Nothing. She falls, lies in a heap.

A door opens. A tentacle comes out, reaches for X. It encircles her. She fights. X is pulled toward door, but fights. Bites tentacle. Tentacle releases her, slides back inside. Door closes.

Music. Country music full of twangs and boot stomping. X claps her hand over her ears.

A piano – classical, pleasant – country fades, leaving piano dominant. X moves toward sound. It stops. Silence. A siren. A scream. X falls to her knees, tries to pray, can’t.

X stands, moves toward doors, puppet-like, as though fastened to strings. Opens door. JACK IN THE BOX leaps out, falls limp. Circus music. X leaps back, slams door. Music stops. Silence.

Barking dog. Joined by another, and another. Air filled with barks. Now a cow. A chicken. A sheep. The scream of a bird of prey. A gunshot. Silence.

X, still as if fastened to strings, moves toward doors. A different door. It opens before she reaches it. A grotesque CLOWN leaps out, reaches for her. The strings jerk her back. X falls. CLOWN reaches for her, leans over her, kisses her. X tries to avoid him. CLOWN sits on her, stroking her hair, his other hand between her legs. She struggles, is still.

Siren. A door opens. A tentacle creeps out, grabs CLOWN, pulls him inside. X lies still. Country guitar gets louder. X stumbles to her knees, not fastened to strings.

X heads for wings. Tentacle bats her back. Pinball again. Siren. Tentacles lie still. X falls to knees, head to floor.

Hook lowers, lifts X. X dangles above stage, limp. Hook lowers, places X on tentacle. Tentacle encircles her, embraces. Soft music, soothing lullaby. X rocks gently, soothed.

Siren. Tentacle flings X into air. She lands on hands and knees. Tentacle nudges her; she stands. Tentacle urges X toward doors.

X opens door. Confetti flies out, covers her. A pie hits X in the face. Laughter off. X slams door. Tentacle offers her a towel. She cleans up.

Siren. X jumps, looks behind her. Tentacle twitches, X backs away. Loud firecracker off. Silence.

Spotlight on X. She spins, slowly, as dancing. Music – getting faster. X tries to keep up. Spins faster and faster. Music stops abruptly. She falls. Spotlight off.

X gets to knees, tries to crawl off stage. Tentacle stops her. She crawls toward other exit. Tentacle stops her.

X stands, again as if fastened to strings. Puppet-like, X moves to doors. Tries to fight. Strings propel her forward. X opens door. MONKEY swinging on tree. MONKEY reaches out, grabs X by hair. X struggles, MONKEY pulls. Tentacle comes through door, wraps around X’s neck. X stops struggling. Tentacle holds her while MONKEY pulls her hair.

Siren. MONKEY lets go. Tentacle releases X. X falls to knees. Door closes.

Music off. Laughter. Happy Birthday song from behind door. X heads toward door, pulls it open. Shouts of Happy Birthday. Candles. X blows out candles. X receives blow to head from arm holding stick reaching from door.

X spins around, staggers, falls to knees. Prays. Looks up. Nothing. Prays harder. Rain falls just on her. Loud thunder. Darkness. Siren. Scream. Barking dog. Circus music. Country guitar rising over all, louder, louder, louder. Strobe light.

X stumbles toward exit. Pinball starts again. No light except strobe. Other music begins, loud, discordant. Accordion. Bagpipes. Kazoos. X ricochets back and forth like a pinball, faster, strobe light.

Barking dogs stop. Circus music stop. Kazoo stop. Bagpipes stop. Guitar and accordion continue playing. Siren. Lights come on. Strobe ends.

Blood gushes from between X’s legs. Accordion plays louder, alternating with guitar. Blood flows until the stage is red. X falls. Siren. Silence.

X rises as though lifted by strings. X moves toward doors, struggling, losing. She slips in the blood, slides sideways, rights herself, slips again. Ceiling hook grabs collar, holds her up. She reaches door. Opens door. Nothing. Blackness. X enters.

Door closes. Octopus head lowers and engulfs doors. Tentacles close around head.

Siren. Silence.

END OF PLAY