Showing posts with label sariel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sariel. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

31 Plays in 31 Days: #13 - "Not Yet"

C.S._Lewis

Mmmkay, this one is kind of weird. And not written by me so much as arranged by me from some famous quotes of C.S. Lewis. I always loved the story of how he came to faith-- from a kind of furious atheism until he found himself pulled to it in a manner he could not deny. And here I wanted to explore an idea of Lewis's that faith is easier when you are whole than when you are suffering. But still, even when pain and disillusionment pull at you, that doesn't mean you have no chance of someday finding the thing that will give you solace and fulfillment. For you it may not be faith, but there's usually something like that for everyone.

Yeah, I know the staging's weird. It's an experiment.

Day #13 - "Not Yet"

C.S. LEWIS, an early 20th Century writer and Christian apologist, slight Irish accent
ROWAN CLIFFORD, a modern-day forensic scientist, English accent
SARIEL, a guardian angel, American accent
~~~

(ROWAN CLIFFORD in his lab coat works at his station on a table upstage. Downstage, C.S. LEWIS stands beside a desk in his professor’s tweeds.)

LEWIS: I maintained that God did not exist. I was also very angry with God for not existing.

(He sits down at his desk, picks up his pen.)

LEWIS: You must picture me alone in that room in Magdalen, night after night, feeling, whenever my mind lifted even for a second from my work, the steady, unrelenting approach of Him whom I so earnestly desired not to meet.

(Enter SARIEL, swathed in a black cloak with a low hood. LEWIS tries desperately to focus on his work. His attention keeps straying, though, and he is visibly distressed.)

(ROWAN stands at his table in the lab, also trying to work, but it becomes harder and harder to contain his upset.)

(SARIEL approaches and stands at LEWIS’s shoulder just behind him.)

LEWIS: That which I greatly feared had at last come upon me. In the Trinity Term of 1929 I gave in… perhaps, that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England.

(Lewis puts his pen down, then clasps his hands in front of him. He shakes his head, then gives in with a nod, exhaling hard. He slides out of his chair to get down on his knees. He lifts his clasped hands to hold before him. SARIEL lets down his hood, revealing a kind human face, and touches him on the shoulder.)

(Finally Rowan breaks down, crying quietly, and covers his eyes with his hands. SARIEL leaves LEWIS and goes to stand behind ROWAN in the same manner. SARIEL stands silently, waits patiently.)

(At last Rowan collects himself a little, and lifts up his head. He roughly wipes his eyes and exhales.)

ROWAN: Not yet. All right? I’m not ready. Not yet.

SARIEL: It’s all right. We have all the time in the world.

LEWIS: I maintained that God did not exist. I was also very angry with God for not existing.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Ten-minute play first draft - "What Everybody Living Gets"

theaterwritingchallenge

This is the ten-minute play I'm working on for school this semester. I just finished the first draft. It's based on an idea I've been turning over in my mind-- I've been referring to it as "Vitality" because the vitality of the human spirit is a major theme --but is a big enough project that will take some time to work out. The character of Sariel, the guardian angel, has appeared before in this scene I scribbled down a while ago. The character of Max is one I thought up based on trying to get some of the bad things in my head right now out in any constructive way possible. My present biggest disappointment with the current state of the piece is that I want Sariel to be extremely cheeky and funny normally, but with turns into a profound serious intensity when it really matters, and I'm not sure it hits that enough. Will have to revise for that. This piece is for school, but I think I can repurpose it to use in the larger Vitality piece.

You know. Just turning my pain into gold. Or something.

What Everybody Living Gets
by Phoebe Roberts
MAX TAN, a terminal cancer patient
SARIEL, his guardian angel



~~~

(MAX TAN sits at his desk, looking sick and drawn. Papers and books are spread out in front of him. He leans back in his chair and stairs dully. The lights go down. When they go back up, SARIEL has appeared behind him, holding a strawberry smoothie in front of his eyes. MAX startles, then looks up at him in recognition.)

MAX: Shit! Sariel! It’s you.

SARIEL: Morning, Max.

MAX: Never going to get used to how you just blink in like that.

SARIEL: Ah, it’s just to keep you on your toes.

(He comes around to beside the desk.)

SARIEL: Brought you this.

(He holds up the smoothie.)

MAX: How thoughtful.

SARIEL: I know you had a rough morning.

MAX: It’s always rough.

SARIEL: Still. You don’t always have that bad a reaction. Is the Benedryl still working?

MAX: Yeah. The swelling’s down. Gave me some trouble with the port, though.

(He rubs at his upper right chest.)

SARIEL: Aw, man. I’m sorry.

MAX: Isn’t your fault.

SARIEL: You know what I mean. Anyway, I thought I’d stop in and make sure you were okay. With a smoothie!

(MAX stares.)

SARIEL: No need to thank me. I like taking care of you. It’s my nature!

(MAX rolls his eyes. SARIEL pushes the smoothie toward him. MAX takes one look at it then goes back to glaring at his work.)

MAX: Get rid of that.

SARIEL: You got to eat.

MAX: I’m not hungry.

SARIEL: You didn’t have dinner last night. Or breakfast this morning.

MAX: I told you, I’m not hungry. That chemo shit makes me sick to my stomach.

SARIEL: Just want you to keep your strength up. I thought we could do something today.

MAX: Like what?

SARIEL: I don’t know. Nothing big. I thought we could… I don’t know, ride mules down the Grand Canyon, or take a stroll down the Champs Élysée.

MAX: Nothing big, huh?

SARIEL: Oh, dear boy. Not for me.

MAX: Maybe tomorrow.

SARIEL: Tomorrow the chemo will kick in and you’ll be too wiped out. Come on, while you’re still feeling okay. You could use the change of scenery.

MAX: Nice as that sounds, I’m just starting to get into this problem.

SARIEL: Oh, really?

(SARIEL gets up and stands behind MAX to look over his shoulder.)

SARIEL: It’s good to see you working.

(Pause.)

SARIEL: It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

MAX: It’s been hard to concentrate. But I’m trying to get my mind off things.

SARIEL: I’m glad. Anything good?

MAX: Eh. I don’t know. Too soon to tell.

(MAX tries to return to his work, but after a moment leans back and rests his head in his hands. SARIEL stretches his head around to look MAX in the face. MAX’s head stays bent, so it is quite the contortion. Finally MAX rolls his eyes to look at him.)

MAX: Can I help you?

SARIEL: Max? If you don’t mind my saying, you look like hell.

MAX: Thanks, pal.

SARIEL: You been sleeping?

MAX: Not much.

SARIEL: You’re not going to be good for much of anything if you quit sleeping too.

MAX: I can’t. I’ve tried. Those goddamn steroids make sure of that.

(SARIEL leans over the desk.)

SARIEL: This is a problem, friend.

MAX: No kidding.

SARIEL: You got to take care of yourself.

MAX: That’s why I’m on the freaking chemo regimen, aren’t I?

SARIEL: As the philosophers say, necessary but not sufficient.

(Pause.)

SARIEL: What’s that smell?

(He pushes around some of the books and papers and sees an ashtray with a smoldering cigarette in it.)

SARIEL: Oh, come on, Max.

MAX: Lay off.

SARIEL: You haven’t had enough of these yet?

MAX: Just a couple of drags. So kill me.

SARIEL: You don’t need me for that, Max, you got this!

MAX: Jesus Christ. What’s it matter now?

SARIEL: Begging your pardon?

MAX: What’s it matter now?

SARIEL: It matters because only an idiot would deal with a limp by shooting himself in the foot.

MAX: It’s not like it can make anything worse.

SARIEL: I don’t know about that. If it means you’re giving up.

(MAX tenses.)

SARIEL: But you don’t really want to do that. So come on, just a sip. All that protein’s wrapped up in tasty strawberry. Goes down real easy.

(SARIEL pushes it toward him. MAX grabs the ashtray and hurls it across the stage.)

MAX: Damn it, Sariel! What the hell are you doing!?

SARIEL: Not letting you throw in the towel.

MAX: What’s the damn point!? What does it matter if I work, or if I eat, or if I get any damn sleep? There’s no getting out of this. I’ve taken the drugs and I’ve shot up the chemo and I’m still dying. Why do you care whether or not I give up?

SARIEL: Because you don’t have much time left.

MAX: I know! I’ve accepted that! What more do you want from me?

SARIEL: Is that all you think I care about? Your death?

MAX: Is that what you’re all about? Making sure I’m at peace in preparation for the inevitable?

SARIEL: If I can do that for you, yeah, I’d like you to have that. But I’m here because I’m worried about the rest of your life.

MAX: Yeah, all few months of it. What does it matter anymore?

SARIEL: Because you’re not dead yet, Max! Because you’re getting cheated out of decades that most everybody else takes for granted. All you have is right now. Which is all the more reason you have to do something now.

MAX: What? Do what?

SARIEL: Anything! Everything! The things you’re never going to get a chance to do if you don’t do them now.

MAX: Why? Why should I? What’s the point?

SARIEL: What if I told you the most significant thing you’re ever going to do is going to happen between right now and the end of your life?

(MAX stares at him.)

MAX: Can you know that?

SARIEL: Does that change things for you?

MAX: Do you know that, Sariel?

SARIEL: It doesn’t matter, Max! What matters is that you can’t know that. You can’t know what’s coming. You just got to know that, if you give up now… nothing’s coming.

(MAX breaks down.)

MAX: How can I do that… when this is all I get?

SARIEL: You have what everybody living has, Max. You have a shot. All you can do is take it.

MAX: I don’t know if I can.

SARIEL: That’s why I’m here.

(MAX sits there silently for a moment, considering. At last he picks up the smoothie and starts drinking.)

SARIEL: Now, tell me. What are you working on?

THE END

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge: Dolls That Say "I Love You" on Command

theaterwritingchallenge

I just wrote a scene and I freaking love it.

Dolls That Say "I Love You" on Command

(SAM, a troubled former FBI agent, walks down the street. She grips her purse uncomfortably and hurries along. Soon she comes across a park bench where a little girl in a frilly dress sits, holding a baby doll and smiling at her. She recognizes this as a form of SARIEL, her guardian angel.)

SAM: Oh, Jesus.

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: Hi, Sam. I’m surprised to see you out and about. Since you think so little of these imperfect creatures God made.

SAM: Oh, save it.

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: No, our conversation really got me thinking. It’s a good question, why God would make you all so full of sin and so prone to rejecting Him and all his love.

SAM: I’m not up for a deep theological discussion right now, okay?

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: Okay, okay. But don’t go. Since we ran into each other, you might as well come hang out a while.

(Sam looks around nervously to see who might be watching.)

SAM: Why do you show up like this? Why a little girl?

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: Because it means people are a lot nicer to me when I want to sit around and play with dolls.

SAM: People see me talking to you, they’re going to think I’m a kidnapper or something.

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: Oh, don’t worry what other people think for five minutes, okay? Just sit down.

(She sits on the bench beside him.)

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: Check this out.

(He tips the doll forward and back. Its recorded voice box says, “I love you!”)

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: Nice, huh?

SAM: So?

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: So, they make these baby dolls who say “I love you.” Whenever you want, they just say it to you. It’s a present for you.

SAM: For me? Why?

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: You know, since Chris and all.

SAM: Is this a joke?

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: Well, you were really broken up about having been left by the person who loved you.

SAM: What? Oh, Jesus!

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: I thought this might fill the void.

(He proffers the doll, making it say "I love you" again. She shoves it back at him.)

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: What? It doesn’t?

SAM: You’re an asshole.

LITTLE GIRL SARIEL: Oh, I’m sorry. You mean to say, a doll that’s built to say “I love you” on command isn’t worth the same as a creature of free will who loves you of his own accord?

(Sam turns to stare at him, disturbed. Little Girl Sariel makes a snotty face and spreads his hands.)