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morganmayday 2026-01-09 14:43:10 -08:00
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@ -2,7 +2,7 @@
*(Enter THE GRAVEDIGGER.)*
*THE GRAVEDIGGER, to the audience.*
*THE GRAVEDIGGER, to the audience.*\
Death is the most infinite violence. This is, perhaps, why for all of history, everything has that has ever lived has dreamt of something after. They dream, because they need believe the lie that when they kill another, they just go...somewhere else.
It feels true, when I bury them. They can die peaceful or they can die violent, they can die of age or pen-stroke on ledger or sword, and it's all the same.
@ -11,76 +11,76 @@ Whomever once held that body is not there anymore.
*(He stabs his shovel into the dirt, the light on him goes out. TEN MOURNERS approach, from the left and right, and speak, illuminated from below one by one.)*
*MOURNER 1*
*MOURNER 1*\
If only it hadn't happened this way.
*MOURNER 2*
*MOURNER 2*\
They needn't have died like this.
*MOURNER 3*
*MOURNER 3*\
They needn't have died _at all._
*MOURNER 4*
*MOURNER 4*\
We need to take vengeance.
*MOURNER 5*
*MOURNER 5*\
They were the strongest of us. How could we face the Royalty?
*MOURNER 6*
*MOURNER 6*\
They fought alone. We eleven still remain.
*MOURNER 7*
*MOURNER 7*\
But where _is_ the cartographer?
*MOURNER 8*
*MOURNER 8*\
Refusing to play the fool. Unlike us. Unlike-- *(she casts her handkerchief on the grave--)* them.
*MOURNER 9*
*MOURNER 9*\
They chose their battle. They knew the risks.
*MOURNER 10*
*MOURNER 10*\
And now, they are gone.
*(The lights on the MOURNERS go out. They bow their heads, and go silent.)*
*THE GRAVEDIGGER, picking up his shovel, to the audience.*
*THE GRAVEDIGGER, picking up his shovel, to the audience.*\
They know death, intimately. None of the mourners have bloodless hands. To kill another is stock in trade, and yet...
*(The light on him goes out again. THE MOURNERS are illuminated as they speak.)*
*MOURNER 5*
*MOURNER 5*\
I still can't believe it.
*MOURNER 8*
*MOURNER 8*\
I can. *(She raises her head.)* How many have you killed, builder?
*MOURNER 5*
*MOURNER 5*\
Hundreds. Thousands? *(Ze chuckles.)* I lost count a long time ago.
*MOURNER 9*
*MOURNER 9*\
And now ours are killed. The purest alchemy, builder: blood for blood. Death for death. They knew the risks. They'd long since chosen this life of ours.
*MOURNER 1, softly.*
*MOURNER 1, softly.*\
Then what will you do, if we die?
*MOURNER 9*
*MOURNER 9*\
_When_ you die, I will grieve. Just as I shall grieve the rest of you.
*(He lowers his veil, and exits.)*
*(BEAT. One by one, THE MOURNERS, except 8, exit. THE GRAVEDIGGER is illuminated once more.)*
*MOURNER 8, to THE GRAVEDIGGER.*
*MOURNER 8, to THE GRAVEDIGGER.*\
I'm glad you came, old friend.
*THE GRAVEDIGGER shakes his head, leans on the shovel.*
*THE GRAVEDIGGER shakes his head, leans on the shovel.*\
The rest of them did not see me. You did.
*MOURNER 8*
*MOURNER 8*\
Of course I did. You've been gone a very long time. I thought you were dead, too.
*(The lights go out.)*
### SECOND PARABLE: A riverside bramble at dawn.
### SECOND PARABLE: TBD:
### THIRD PARABLE: You can think yourself out of any problem except being dead.
@ -88,7 +88,7 @@ Of course I did. You've been gone a very long time. I thought you were dead, too
*(Enter THE INKMAKER.)*
*THE INKMAKER, to the audience, plucking berries for his basket.*
*THE INKMAKER, to the audience, plucking berries for his basket.*\
When I was a child, I was called strange. I did not conform. I was the worst, of my father's sons, and all the world knew it, and I knew it too.
When they sought to beat me into shape, to strike while the iron was hot, they changed me, oh, yes. *(He chuckles, dryly.)* Not how they wanted, of course. They taught me to lie. They taught me to wear a mask. They taught me that they would betray me in an instant if I broke rank.
@ -101,7 +101,7 @@ They didn't teach me to be what they wanted. Oh, yes, they taught me how to hate
### FIFTH PARABLE: BREAK THE GATES.
*THE FACE IN THE MIRROR*
*THE FACE IN THE MIRROR*\
Do you hear it, now? The song you've always heard, in your dreams, but here and now you're awake.
Are our dreams real? They're _less real_ than we are--that does not mean they're not real.