31 Plays in 31 Days: #25 - "Most in Need"

This is another attempt at a rewrite of a scene previously written for Sally and Deadeye, based on the backstory of The Stand. This one comes just before piece #3 for the month, and is extremely spoilery for The Stand if you have not played.

Day #25 - “Most in Need”

FLORA JOHANSSON, formerly an outlaw
SISTER ESME, a nun at the convent
~~~

FLORA: You needn’t do anything for me.

SISTER ESME: Nonsense. It’s our duty. You look like you’ve not eaten in days.

FLORA: Well… it’s been rough.

SISTER ESME: It’s our business to comfort folks in a bad way.

FLORA: That’s real good of you, marm. But you don’t got the whole story. I ain’t your sort.

SISTER ESME: What sort’s that?

FLORA: The sort you want about here. I done things. Bad things.

SISTER ESME: In my time, miss I found that them’s the folks most in need of a little pity.

(Pause.)

FLORA: It ain’t just that, though.

SISTER ESME: Yes?

FLORA: You see, marm… it ain’t just me. There’s somebody else too.

SISTER ESME: Who?

(FLORA looks away and lays her hands across her stomach.)

SISTER ESME: I see.

FLORA: Hasn’t got a daddy. Hasn’t… got anybody. So you don't want nothing to do with me.

SISTER ESME: Miss, that’s the sort we’re concerned with most. Always room for one more lost soul.

FLORA: I ain’t even Catholic.

SISTER ESME: It’s not safe for a little one out there.

(Pause.)

FLORA: Just… just for a spell, then.

(The sister extends her arm to show FLORA the way. FLORA hesitates a moment, then scurries off stage right. The sister follows after.)

31 Plays in 31 Days: #3 - "For Her"

Today's piece goes to that source of inspiration that served me so well the first time around, drawing from the backstory of The Stand. This is an attempt at doing a better job at a scene that would have appeared in Sally and Deadeye, my original thesis piece that for whatever reason wasn't working the first time I tried to write it. (As you'll recall, I ended up abandoning it in favor of writing Mrs. Loring.) But I think it could still possibly be salvaged, especially since I'm no longer morbidly depressed. So, without looking at my original draft, I redid this scene from whole cloth. This is rough and rushed, but it's a stab.

This is extremely spoilerly for The Stand, just as a warning. It follows sometime after No Clean Break, a ten-minute I wrote in my first semester of grad school, which has had several readings now and is considered to be one of my more successful pieces.

Also, surprising no one, it features of one my more common Author Tropes.

Day #3 - "For Her"

FLORA JOHANSSON, formerly an outlaw, now seeking refuge in a convent
SISTER ESME, a nun at the convent
~~~

(FLORA sits up in bed, still tired and disheveled from giving birth, holding her newborn baby. Enter SISTER ESME.)

SISTER ESME: How is the little one?

FLORA: She’s sleeping now.

SISTER ESME: She is a pretty little thing.

FLORA: She is. God bless her. More than I deserve.

SISTER ESME: And how are you, miss?

FLORA: Tired is all.

SISTER ESME: Glad to hear. We’ll talk after you’ve had a rest.

(She turns to go again.)

FLORA: Talk? About what?

SISTER ESME: About what your plans are.

FLORA: My plans?

SISTER ESME: Now that the baby’s come.

FLORA: Oh. I reckon you’ve got rules about keeping babies here.

SISTER ESME: It’s only… there’s a great deal a baby needs besides a home.

FLORA: No mistake. I suppose… I haven’t thought so much of it.

SISTER ESME: You know, we’ve helped many a fatherless baby find their place in the world.

FLORA: What are you saying, marm?

SISTER ESME: We’ll talk when you’ve rested.

FLORA: No. We’ll talk now.

(The sister sighs.)

SISTER ESME: It is a shame for a child to go without a family. We could find her one.

(Pause.)

FLORA: You want me to give her up? Let you… find her some nice mama and papa to take her away?

SISTER ESME: It’s a choice you might consider.

FLORA: She’s my baby. I’m her mother!

SISTER ESME: Just as you say. And as her mother, you’ve got to do the best for her.

FLORA: How can I do that if I give her up?

SISTER ESME: There are decent people you could trust her to. Them who won’t trouble if she hasn’t gotten a father or a name or a place in the world. For they have them to give to her.

FLORA: You folks do that a lot? Find respectable wedded couples to raise babies?

SISTER ESME: Very often. We’ve saved many unwanted babies that way.

FLORA: She ain’t unwanted!

SISTER ESME: I know, child. But you must ask yourself what you can provide for her.

FLORA: I can care for her. I can love her.

SISTER ESME: So you can. But it’s a hard world for a little one with no home and no father to look after him.

FLORA: And a mama what lived how I lived.

(Pause.)

FLORA: And you think that what I ought to do?

SISTER ESME: It’s your decision. We’ll abide by it.

(FLORA begins to cry.)

FLORA: You don’t understand, sister. I gave up… everything. My whole life.

SISTER ESME: You were right brave.

FLORA: I need something to hold to, sister. Something to make it not all some crying waste. She’s all I got now. Sure I
mustn’t… give her up too?

SISTER ESME: Flora, what did you do it for?

FLORA: Why, for her. Why else?

SISTER ESME: Why else, indeed?

(Pause.)

SISTER ESME: You needn’t decide anything now. You best get your rest. We’ll talk more later.

(Exit SISTER ESME. FLORA holds her baby close.)

The Stand play series - "Wildflowers"

Over the last couple weeks I wrote another ten-minute play based on The Stand. This one is probably spoilery too, so probably only those who don't want to play in future runs should read. The characters featured are Sister Flora Johansson and Violet Wood, both PCs. I like the idea of this scene a lot, though the piece itself probably needs polishing.


Wildflowers
By Phoebe Roberts

FLORA JOHANSSON, a nun, early forties
VIOLET WOOD, a wild young woman, late teens

~~~

(The year is 1849 in the northern California cattle town of Reston. VIOLET WOOD is discovered onstage. Enter SISTER FLORA JOHANSSON wearing her nun’s habit.)

FLORA: Good day there, missie.

VIOLET: What? Oh. Good day there.

FLORA: I’m Sister Flora. What might your name be?

VIOLET: I’m Violet. Violet Wood. Do you… do you want something, sister?

FLORA: I wanted to see if you had a minute to talk.

VIOLET: You want to talk to me? How come?

FLORA: It’s a small town. Hard to miss when somebody new is around.

VIOLET: Oh. Well, yes.

FLORA: What brings you to Reston?

VIOLET: Ah… me and my fellow are just passing through.

FLORA: Have any business?

VIOLET: Oh, no, no business.

FLORA: You sure?

VIOLET: Of course.

(Pause.)

FLORA: I’ll tell you what I think. I think I know you.

VIOLET: Know me?

FLORA: There’s been a lot of talk about that outlaw pair. What do they call themselves? The Killdeer Kids, was it?

VIOLET: I— I don’t know!

FLORA: I think you do. Because I think you’re the little girl half of that outlaw pair. I think you’re a wanted criminal.

(VIOLET startles.)

VIOLET: Wh-what? What’d you say? I don’t know what— h-how’d you find out? Who told you?

FLORA: Nobody needed to. It’s written in your face as plain as day.

VIOLET: I ain’t done nothing—

FLORA: Easy, girl. I ain’t going to turn you in.

VIOLET: You’re not? Then… what do you want with me?

FLORA: I just wanted to have a talk with you.

VIOLET: About what?

FLORA: About… what you do. About how you’re living your life.

VIOLET: I don’t need some sister telling me to be a good little girl and come to Jesus!

FLORA: It ain’t like that. I thought I’d ask after you. See how you was getting on.

VIOLET: How I’m getting on? What’s your angle?

FLORA: (Shaking her head.) Got no angle. Compassion for folks is my job.

VIOLET: You got no reason to worry about me.

FLORA: I wouldn’t say that. Knowing the sort of life you leave.

VIOLET: You ain’t got any idea.

FLORA: Let me take a stab.

VIOLET: Oh, go on.

FLORA: No, give me a try. You grew up in some nowhere place with a mama and a papa that wanted to keep you small under their thumb.

VIOLET: Maybe so.

FLORA: Till you met a dashing young gent who wanted to take you away from your dull old homestead to go on romantic adventures on the frontier.

VIOLET: How’d you know that?

FLORA: It’s an old story, missie. Far older than you are. And I think you ought to know that quite a few what came before you wished their story could have ended differently.

VIOLET: What are you saying?

FLORA: Just that… you might want to get out while you still can. Before you end up the same bad way.

VIOLET: Don’t you try to lecture me! You don’t know what I had to bear back in townie life! Serving rich folks and getting looked at like I’m a little nobody! My mama always keening at me over how she knew I was going to end up wicked!

FLORA: Ah, honey. That’s rough and no mistake.

VIOLET: That weren’t no life!

FLORA: I know.

VIOLET: I had to get out of that!

FLORA: Can’t say as I blame you.

VIOLET: My fellow, Ralph… he got me out of that. He saved me from it. He gave me freedom and adventures and now we’re famous! Everybody knows the Killdeer Kids! We’re somebody now!

FLORA: Still. That’s an awful lot of danger you’re taking on yourself.

VIOLET: I ain’t afraid.

FLORA: Even if there’s no danger to you, there’s bound to be danger to somebody.

VIOLET: Oh, go on.

FLORA: You got guns, don’t you?

VIOLET: Got to!

FLORA: Ever shot anybody? Ever killed anybody?

VIOLET: Ain’t nobody ever died!

FLORA: You sure about that?

VIOLET: We give them a chance to give up the loot and go quietly! Nobody has to get hurt. We ain’t murderers.

FLORA: You ain’t yet.

VIOLET: Never!

FLORA: Even your Ralph?

VIOLET: I know Ralph! He’s smart, he uses his smarts to get the best of other folks. He ain’t some roughneck killer! We’re going to do better than that. We’re going to be another Deadeye and Sally Flowers!

FLORA: (Shaken, saddened.) That’s… that’s what you want to be?

VIOLET: Sure as hell we do. You heard the stories, right?

FLORA: I know them.

VIOLET: They was the wildest desperadoes on the range! Ain’t nobody was as brave or daring or clever as them, and everybody knows it! That’s what Ralph and I are going to be.

FLORA: That’s what you want, is it?

VIOLET: That’s what we always wanted!

FLORA: Of course. Should’ve known, I guess. Everybody wants to go that way when they don’t like the rules. But what they don’t know going in is the life’s got its own rules. Just like anything else. Can’t ever get away from that.

VIOLET: I do what I want.

FLORA: That’s the trouble, missie. You end up having to do things you don’t want to. To make a dollar. To stay alive. To stay those few steps ahead of the law.

VIOLET: It ain’t like that!

FLORA: You telling me you and your boy never got stuck in a tight spot?

VIOLET: Well… no, but—

FLORA: What might happen next time if you found yourself in a corner because things ain’t going like you planned?

VIOLET: Well… I don’t know! I don’t know, all right? But what else are we going to do? Settle down and— be like regular folks somewhere? With all them rules and laws? Ralph and I can’t live like that.

FLORA: All right, all right, we’ll let than one go. Here’s another thing…how is it that you see yourself ending up?

VIOLET: Not as a nun, that’s for sure!

FLORA: Right. I suppose I didn’t see it coming for me either. But I mean when you’re an old one. Too old to go gallivanting all over the range with a gun strapped to your back.

VIOLET: Well, I can’t see us digging ourselves into some old patch of dirt and getting gray and stupid.

FLORA: You got a different plan, then?

VIOLET: We’re going to get rich and famous, we… we don’t need no plan.

FLORA: Fair enough. Suppose you won’t if you end up dead. Plenty of famous outlaws do.

(VIOLET springs up in a rage.)

VIOLET: Oh, what do you know? You’re just some old lady in a black and white bed sheet, you don’t know a damn thing about us! We’re going to end up just like Deadeye and Sally, you’ll see!

FLORA: And how do you know they ended so well?

(VIOLET stops short and turns to look at FLORA.)

FLORA: Let me ask you— when was the last time you heard about the two of them?

VIOLET: They… they ain’t dead. Nobody could’a got them.

FLORA: Maybe not. But they sure as shooting ain’t riding around like they used to! Because they all end up the same way.

VIOLET: You can’t say that!

FLORA: Oh, child. Might be you’ll get lucky. Might be all your dream will come true. But might also be that one day... nothing’s like you planned. When you thought you was going to be a dashing rogue and you feel like nothing but a cold butcher. When the man you thought loved you best out of everything shows you he’s in so deep he can’t do nothing but save his own skin. When your pretty dream of all your romance and adventure fades out into finding yourself alone and with stains on your conscience you can’t never wash clean.

(VIOLET looks at her in shock.)

FLORA: So if you want to be like Deadeye and Sally, you ought to know how you’re like to end up.

(She stands up and turns to leave.)

VIOLET: Wait one minute, there. How do you know all that?

FLORA: All what?

VIOLET: About the life. The outlaw life. And… Sally and Deadeye.

FLORA: I told you, girl. It’s a real old story. You ain’t the first one to live it.

VIOLET: Who… who are you?

FLORA: Sister Flora. That’s all.

(She exits, leaving VIOLET to watch her in shock.)