Brief: Write a play that takes place in darkness, but isn’t an audio drama.
CHORUS: Beep. Beep. Beep.
PATIENT: I see only blackness. I dimly recall voices asking me to do things. I remember a red light in my eye , but now I am not certain if my eyes are closed or open. I attempt to blink but I’m not sure I actually did it. Nothing changes.
CHORUS: Beep. Beep. Beep.
PATIENT: There is no time. There is nothing but me. I might have been here five minutes or five days or five hours. Time merges. It slips. I cannot catch it.
CHORUS: Beep. Beep. Beep
PATIENT: The past and future meld. I hear the soft beeping from Outside, but now I also discern a sort of whirr-click. I hold my breath to try and identify it, and alarms go off.
SOPHIE: Anyway, people were in pain. And drab, boring clothing that looked like everyone else was how people expressed their pain. Eventually the OneWorld government was voted into power, but we still lived with severe austerity measures.
SOPHIE: It means we learned to live with only the most basic needs.
LIZZIE: That’s sad.
SOPHIE: I agree. But… it wasn’t like that forever. By 2031, we had the Night Sewists.
LIZZIE: Knights who sew?
SOPHIE: (chuckling) No, not knights in armor, night like nighttime. The Night Sewists were a group of women who had grown up doing handicrafts – sewing clothing, doing embroidery, making quilts… all sorts of things you could do with a needle and thread and fabric.
She surveys her last bit of work, nods to herself in approval, and goes on.
ELIZA: But before… before all the mass production that took the soul out of handwork we used needles made from bone. Oh, you modern stitchers will wrinkle your noses and call it disgusting, but those bone needles had a bit of a curve to them, made the sewing go smoother, and their points were sharper than what you know.
Notes: This was meant for the day 8 prompt, but after trying to adapt two different episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and realizing it was taking more time than I can give, I posted two out-of-order, scrapped everything, and went back to this today. Thanks to my friend Fran for the inspiration. And to (counterclockwise from the top right) Teddy, Perry, Max, and Piper for being my loyal, if drooly, companions.
No, I mean. What if… what if me not being able to beat his time means he won’t come home.
MOTHER: (wrapping her arm around her son). Sweetie, whether you race through the piece in fifty-six seconds, or play it in the two minutes most people do, it won’t bring your dad back sooner, or prevent him from coming home.
MOTHER: Promise. (she ruffles his hair) Want to know a secret about the Minute Waltz?
Notes: Another out of order piece… still working on prompt 8.