31 Plays in 31 Days: #18 - "Chapfallen"

So you may remember that few years ago I directed a little play called Hamlet. Because I was determined to not make it an heavy emotastic dramaslog, I wanted it to be funny in some places to contrast with the tragedy. This led to some decidedly weird bits making it into the final production. One of the weirdest being the idea of Mr. Alex d'Anjou, who played the gravedigger, who ended up being apparently a collector of his dead charges' skulls and the only truly happy character in the play. We began joking about how he must have had a field day with the throne room after the end of the final scene, with all those new pretties to harvest. I have no idea why it came to me today, but that wast the inspiration for today's weird-ass piece.

Day #18 - "Chapfallen"

(A row of skulls of various shapes and sizes sit on a brick wall in a mausoleum. A GRAVEDIGGER in shabby clothes, with another skull hanging on a rope from his belt, enters with a shovel over his shoulder.)

GRAVEDIGGER: Good sooth, my pretties, how fare ye?

(He goes over to inspect the skulls.)

GRAVEDIGGER: Ah, clean and cleaner, I espy. Soon ye shall be smooth and fair as eggs. The beetles well have nibbled off your shabby bits. Alas but there’s not more fine sun for ye, but you’ll blench full in time enough. And I shall tell thy tales.

(He lifts and displays the first one.)

GRAVEDIGGER: Here’s a fair noggin, fair enough to turn the living heads of brothers while she lived. She had two crowns once, flaxen soft with a golden circle nestled in. She won a third when she wed a second king. All those crowns be gone now, but this snowy smooth one quite becomes!

(He replaces that skull and bends to look the second in the eye sockets.)

GRAVEDIGGER: As for thee, thank me prettily, sweet, for I went to pains to dig you from your berth and join ye with your fellows. I though ye need not lie lonely evermore, not when thy company was gathered elsewhere. And no more hurts of thine for them to cast aside!

(He hefts the skull and examines it approvingly.)

GRAVEDIGGER: The lady’s death were doubtful, but her bones do bleach as white as any blameless maid.

(He turns the bulbous skull beside it.)

GRAVEDIGGER: You as well, rescued from the dirt! But I presume thy children are a comfort to thee.

(He picks it up and touches it.)

GRAVEDIGGER: Such a ponderous dome! Were ye as wise as your globe could hold? Or were ye hollow and filled with gusting like a rotted tree, with your blather rattling around within?

(He exchanges it for the next skull.)

GRAVEDIGGER: Through quite the sturdy neck I must needs hack, to harvest this thick head. With more ease I unearthed those others graves, and the blood did fly with my labors! But it matters not to the new strong-armed king, and it pleased him muchly to see thee carried away from his throne room. By any measure a worthy effort, for union of the family. Though from these bare bones alone none would see the likeness.

(He turns around to look a cluster of three nearly identical skulls.)

GRAVEDIGGER: Not so to regard the three of them! Any knave may see the borne resemblance. The brooding brow, the gentleman’s jaw, the lordly straight white teeth.

(He picks up the first two and weighs them in his hands.)

GRAVEDIGGER: Thou hast held up well since thy brother coveted all the things that had been thine! But now all’s well, is it not, for all you have you have alike. Peace between thee at last! But though fine in troth but I see not how princely. Prithee, are the worms in this mud more regal than those in the village churchyard for having et the flesh from the bones of kings?

(He shrugs, replaces the, and turns reverently to the last skull.)

GRAVEDIGGER: Alas, poor princeling! I knew thee. It does me good in my old heart at last to see your forehead smooth and without burden, with none of glinting madness in thine eye. Still, quite chapfallen? Now I spy you grinning! Fear me not, young prince. Perhaps I’ll hang thee on rope beside thy dear old jester, and he may make you laugh at that. The flights of angels have sung, and I remain to tell thy tale.

(He picks up the last skull, and, tossing it happily up and down in his hands, exits.)

31 Plays in 31 Days: #17 - "Slimming"

Today's piece came from watching Project Runway, which my mom recently got me into. The teaser for next week's episode suggested they'd be designing for non-models-- people bigger than a size two and below five-ten --and perhaps even actual plus-sizes. Unfortunately there was the definite suggestion that the designers were struggling to make nice clothes for people who weren't built like the walking coat hangers, and I know they design those teasers to be as shocking and inflammatory as possible to draw people in, but I will be very displeased if they spend the whole episode making fat people feel bad about themselves. So I wrote this in response to that attitude-- if that is in fact a mindset on the next episode of the show, I hope they are similarly disabused.

For those who know the show, I picture Freddy being a lot like Christopher Palu (whose Jared-like combination of great talent and emotional delicacy I find endearing) and Heidi is named, of course, in tribute to the Aryan Uberfrau who hosts.

Day #17 - "Slimming"

(Enter FREDDY MOREAU, gangly in avant-garde dress, with HEIDI KLEIN, heavyset and well put-together. He leads her to sit in a chair beside a drawing table and a body form.)

FREDDY: Heidi, I’m so honored that you came to me.

HEIDI: Well, I really liked what you did on Design Star. That tuxedo-styled cocktail dress with the peplum was great.

FREDDY: Oh, thank you! I was really proud of that one. So you need an evening gown, right?

HEIDI: Mom’s up for an Oscar this year, and they say she has a decent chance of winning, so we all have to look good for the cameras.

FREDDY: Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you look amazing for the big night.

(He pulls some pages out of a portfolio and hands them to her for inspection.)

FREDDY: I was making some sketches…

HEIDI: Wow, Freddy. These are… flowier than you usually do.

FREDDY: Yeah, I thought it would work for you.

HEIDI: I was kind of hoping we could do something with a peplum. Like on the tuxedo dress.

FREDDY: Oh, trust me, this will be much more flattering. See, it’s got a long, A-line skirt and an empire waist—

HEIDI: How come?

FREDDY: A-lines always look good. And empire waists are very forgiving to the midsection.

HEIDI: Okay.

FREDDY: And we’ll do it all up in a sophisticated black taffeta.

HEIDI: I like brighter colors. I was thinking maybe orange, or coral.

FREDDY: But black is so sleek! Or navy, navy is easy to wear too! And with your skin— you’ll glow!

(He pulls out a length of black taffeta and drapes it over HEIDI.)

FREDDY: See? Very elegant.

HEIDI: Freddy.

FREDDY: Yeah?

HEIDI: No matter what, I’m still going to be fat.

FREDDY: What?

HEIDI: No matter how slimming all your little design tricks are, nobody’s actually going to think I’m slim.

FREDDY: Oh, Heidi, no! You’re not fat, you’re just… full-figured!

HEIDI: Seriously, Freddy.

FREDDY: But that’s okay! We just have to pick the right style for you!

HEIDI: The style to make me look most like… I’m not fat?

FREDDY: Everybody looks good in different things.

HEIDI: But if you’re fat, that’s big and drapey in boring colors.

FREDDY: Every figure is different!

HEIDI: Exactly. I know you got used to designing for runway models, but we’re not all walking coat hangers.

FREDDY: I was trying to consider that.

HEIDI: And not everybody wants to look like one. Consider that.

FREDDY: I just… I just wanted to help you look good.

HEIDI: Good, yeah. Not thin. And if you need a six-foot hundred-pound woman to make your clothes look good, well, maybe you’re not that good a designer after all.

(She gets up and goes to leave.)

FREDDY: Wait! Please, Heidi… why don’t you tell me what you want to look like? I… I’m sure I can make that happen for you.

(HEIDI considers him a moment, then returns to the chair.)

FREDDY: So… you like orange and pink, huh?

31 Plays in 31 Days: #16 - "Confronting It"

And we're back to The Stand as subject matter! This one is about frontier dwellers Zachariah Harper and Clarissa Dunn as they make their decision to go back to the town of Reston together, to confront their respective responsibilities. I don't believe there's anything spoilery about this one, so it's fair game to all.

Day #16 - "Confronting It"

(ZACHARIAH HARPER, a young man dressed in buckskins, sits beside a campfire reading a letter, a distressed expression on his face.)

(Enter CLARISSA DUNN, a teenaged girl similarly dressed, with her big rifle Matilda strapped to her back. She is nervous and distraught.)

CLARISSA: Zachariah? Is that you?

ZACHARIAH: Clarissa? Hey, Little Sister. I ain’t seen you in months.

CLARISSA: I been looking all over for you. Mind if I set here with you a while?

ZACHARIAH: Course not. Any time.

CLARISSA: Thank you kindly.

(She sits, taking the gun from off her back and cradling it like a baby.)

ZACHARIAH: You all right there? You look like you seen a ghost.

CLARISSA: No ghost, but… things… things been rough. But-but what about you, you got a mug as long as a horse.

ZACHARIAH: Yeah. Stepped into the trading post this morning. There was a letter waiting for me.

CLARISSA: Oh, no. Was it bad news?

ZACHARIAH: From my mother. She’s… she’s real sick, Clarissa. She thinks she might not have much longer.

CLARISSA: Aw, Zach. I’m so sorry.

ZACHARIAH: She wants me to come back home. Before it’s too late.

CLARISSA: Well, sure.

ZACHARIAH: I never wanted to go back.

CLARISSA: Zach! Your ma might be dying! You got to go see her one more time!

ZACHARIAH: That ain’t it! If it were just that, wild horses couldn’t keep me from going back. She’s my mother, for Christ’s sake.

CLARISSA: Then what’s the hold up?

ZACHARIAH: She… she wants me to come back for good.

CLARISSA: For good? Why’s that?

ZACHARIAH: If she’s not going to be around much longer, she says… she says I got to take over her work in town.

CLARISSA: Her work? What work does she do?

ZACHARIAH: I’m not sure, exactly. All my life, she and my pa and my grandfather, they sat behind that big desk, doing what they called “town business.” I never rightly knew.

CLARISSA: But she wants to pass it over to you.

ZACHARIAH: It’s my family’s job, taking care of that place. I told you about my Grandpap, right?

CLARISSA: Sure did. About how he was a real roaming frontiersman before he settled in the territory and founded his own town.

ZACHARIAH: Right. I heard how he talked about those early days. Adventures, travels. Could hear the love in his voice. And I knew right away that was the life I wanted. Not… not the other part. The part with the desk and the same old patch of ground forever and ever.

CLARISSA: Going back would mean leaving everything you love.

ZACHARIAH: Just like Grandpap. And my ma’s worked her whole life to take care of it.

CLARISSA: Means a lot to them, don’t it?

ZACHARIAH: I can’t just… throw that all away.

CLARISSA: I see. Maybe… maybe you don’t got to give up your life. Maybe you can find a way to set things in order… find the right person to take of things. Do right by all you.

ZACHARIAH: It’s supposed to be my responsibility.

CLARISSA: Might be the right person is the person what wants to do it. Not somebody what got to be dragged back by wild horses.

ZACHARIAH: I just don’t know.

CLARISSA: Well… only one way to find out.

ZACHARIAH: Yeah. Got to do the right thing. I got to go back.

CLARISSA: The right thing, huh?

ZACHARIAH: It’s all a man can do.

CLARISSA: What if… you thought you was, but you don’t know anymore?

ZACHARIAH: Sis? What’s eating you?

CLARISSA: I done the wrong thing, Zach.

ZACHARIAH: What wrong thing?

CLARISSA: Zachariah… I killed a man.

ZACHARIAH: You did? What man?

CLARISSA: That’s it, Zach, I-I don’t know.

ZACHARIAH: Then why’d you kill him?

CLARISSA: I thought— I thought it was him!

ZACHARIAH: Him?

CLARISSA: The one I been looking for!

ZACHARIAH: You mean, the varmint what killed your father?

CLARISSA: Yes!

ZACHARIAH: Well— what happened? Weren’t it him?

CLARISSA: You got to understand— he had everything I remembered! I told you, the black hat, the Spanish silver coin hanging off the chain of a watch! How many fellows got Spanish silver hanging off the chain of a watch!?

ZACHARIAH: I don’t know, Sis.

CLARISSA: But… he didn’t have no mole. I shot him, and then I turned him over, but there weren’t no mole.

ZACHARIAH: You’re sure?

CLARISSA: I remember that mole, clear as day! So it couldn’t have been him, Zach. He couldn’t have been. I killed an innocent man.

ZACHARIAH: Gentle Jesus.

CLARISSA: I didn’t mean to. I never meant to kill no innocent man!

ZACHARIAH: I know, Sis!

CLARISSA: I ain’t no murderer!

ZACHARIAH: I know!

(He hugs her tightly.)

CLARISSA: What do I do? How can I… how can I fix this?

ZACHARIAH: Ain’t no fixing now, hon.

(CLARISSA sobs a little.)

ZACHARIAH: All that’s left is owning up to it.

CLARISSA: Owning up. Yeah. I’ve got to own up. Or else… what makes me any better than the outlaw what shot my father? I just…/ don’t know how.

ZACHARIAH: Come with me.

CLARISSA: What do you mean?

ZACHARIAH: Come with me back to Reston. There’s folks there what knows things about what’s gone on around here. Might be they can help you.

CLARISSA: How?

ZACHARIAH: I don’t know. But both of us got to try something. With what we got ahead of us… don’t want to face that alone.

CLARISSA: All right. I guess… there ain’t no running for either of us. Might as well go on together.

(They clasp hands, and begin packing up their camp.)

31 Plays in 31 Days: #15 - "No Trust Left"

This scene is set within the universe and timeframe of The Tailor of Riddling Way, one that didn't really have a place in the actual script but probably happened behind the scenes. It's Rowan and Emma Loring right after Rowan learns a disturbing truth about their father and his business affairs-- it's a bit spoilery for the full story, just as a warning. It's not all that powerful a scene as it doesn't advance the plot much, nor get into the meat of the revelations, but I do like the idea that Emma and Rowan had different reactions to the revelation, and different instincts about how to handle it.


Day #15 - "No Trust Left" based on The Tailor of Riddling Way

(EMMA LORING, a prim young woman stern beyond her years, sits at a desk sorting through paperwork. Her handsome brother ROWAN LORING storms in.)

EMMA: Rowan?

ROWAN: It’s all been a lie. He holds himself up like… like a decent, enterprising man. But it’s all a lie.

EMMA: Whatever’s gotten into you?

ROWAN: It’s Father, Emma. He… he told me what he’s been up to. He finally told me.

EMMA: Told you what?

ROWAN: He’s a traitor. He’s made a deal, Emma, a deal with the Germans. He’s agreed supply the German army in time of war. He’s a collaborator with the enemy!

(He looks to EMMA for reaction, but she says nothing.)

ROWAN: Don’t you understand, Emma…? My God. You knew.

EMMA: I suspected.

ROWAN: You did?

EMMA: I see the books, Rowan, I see the contracts. After a while it became clear.

ROWAN: And… you said nothing? You did nothing?

EMMA: What could I have done? I have no power over Father.

ROWAN: You could have come to me!

EMMA: I didn’t know that!

ROWAN: You… didn’t know that? What do you take me for, Emma?

EMMA: Rowan, for all I knew you were with Father all along!

ROWAN: Did you really believe that of me? Did you really think I would do such a thing?

EMMA: Rowan—

ROWAN: I see no one in this family trusts anyone else!

EMMA: Rowan! I thought I knew Father, too.

(ROWAN deflates a little. He heaves a sigh.)

EMMA: Well, we’re both in this now. What are we to do?

ROWAN: We’ve got to put a stop to this.

EMMA: Stop it? How can we stop Father’s entire enterprise?

ROWAN: We can’t simply allow him to profit off of supporting an enemy nation!

EMMA: What can we do? Expose him?

ROWAN: It’s no more than he deserves!

EMMA: Rowan, we’ll ruin the whole family then. Is that what you want? To punish ourselves along with him?

ROWAN: I’m not afraid.

EMMA: Oh, no? And what about Constance and Bethany? Will you do that to them, too?

ROWAN: All right, all right. But we must do something. Not just for the principle of it, Emma. There’s… there’s something else to this, I’m sure of it.

EMMA: Whatever do you mean?

ROWAN: He’s kept the truth of this from me for ages. He told me now for a reason. He… he must need something. My help, my support, something. Why? What’s different now?

EMMA: I couldn’t say. But all the more reason why we must not be hasty!

ROWAN: What do you suggest, then?

EMMA: We must… we must find out more. Find out precisely what, if anything, that means. And… perhaps you and I can take action then.

ROWAN: Very well. I’ll wait for now. But just until we’re certain we’ve unraveled all of this.

EMMA: Just so no more damage is done.

ROWAN: Just for that. No longer.

EMMA: That’s all I ask. Please trust me.

ROWAN: It had better be, Emma. I’ve no more trust left.

(He turns on his heel and strides out. EMMA covers her face with her hands.)

31 Plays in 31 Days: #14 - "Work-Life Balance"

This piece is about superheroes, including Wondra from piece number five. I think this one came out pretty cute and funny, more fully realized than its predecessor. Here Wondra confronts a fellow superhero, Bantam, on a rooftop while on patrol because he took care of a crime in the area of the city she's supposed to protect. Perhaps I should delve more into writing humorous commentary on what it's like to live the life of a superhero, as this piece is rather successful.

I give full credit for the joke about Bantam's name to , who said it to me on Twitter.


Day #14 - "Work-Life Balance"

(BANTAM, a superhero in costume, perches of on a ledge overlooking the city. Suddenly another costumed hero, WONDRA, leaps out to land behind him.)

WONDRA: Bantam!

(He spins around with a start and goes into ready mode, but checks himself when he sees that it’s her.)

BANTAM: Whoa! Wondra! What gives?

WONDRA: You poached my collar!

BANTAM: What are you talking about?

WONDRA: You did! You foiled a crime on my turf yesterday! The heist on 24th Street!

BANTAM: Oh, come on.

WONDRA: You know that the west side is my territory— everything from the Cloverleaf Mall over.

BANTAM: The mall is on the border, it’s fair game. Plus, you never showed up!

WONDRA: I was on my way!

BANTAM: Yeah, well, if I waited for you to get there, I might as well have just driven the getaway car for them.

WONDRA: I had… something else to do.

BANTAM: Well, somebody had to take care of things, and I was right there!

WONDRA: Oh, you weren’t busy, imagine that! The only other thing you have to do is correct people about your stupid name.

BANTAM: It’s not stupid!

WONDRA: “No, it’s Bantam, not Batman…”

BANTAM: It’s like bantamweight boxer!

WONDRA: “No, it’s not Phantom either, it’s with a B!” What even is that?

BANTAM: It’s a kind of fighting bird!

WONDRA: It’s still a chicken, dude.

BANTAM: Better than being that special flour for making gravy!

WONDRA: It’s supposed to sound like “wonder!” When did everybody become a sauce expert all of a sudden?

BANTAM: Whatever. I handled it, it’s done. Just remember, if you’re going to say you’ve got the west side covered, try penciling a patrol or two into your busy schedule.

WONDRA: Yeah, well, let’s see how prompt you are getting to crimes in progress when you’ve got a kid you have to take to ballet class.

BANTAM: You’ve got a kid, huh?

WONDRA: Yeah. An eight-year-old girl. So sometimes I’ve got other stuff I have to do instead of chilling on rooftops all day long.

BANTAM: Hey, I’ve got responsibilities too, you know. You’re not the only one with people in their life.

WONDRA: Yeah? You got any kids?

BANTAM: No… but my parents live in town. And they get on my case if I can’t make it to dinner every Sunday. So I get the passive-aggressive phone calls, even though it’s not like crime takes a regular night off.

WONDRA: Oh, that’s the worst.

BANTAM: If you’re in the middle of taking out some robbers or something, and your cell phone won’t stop ringing.

WONDRA: And Mom leaves you six hundred messages about how you don’t call enough.

BANTAM: Because even though you’re in the process of cleaning up the streets they walk every day, apparently you’re still the worst and most ungrateful offspring ever.

WONDRA: So you end up having to blow off a few patrols you should be making just to get them off your back.

BANTAM: That’s for sure. If I tell my girlfriend I have to work late one more time, she’s going to start thinking I’m having an affair.

WONDRA: You haven’t told her?

BANTAM: No. We’ve only been dating a couple months, and well… got to be careful with your secret identity.

WONDRA: I know what you mean.

BANTAM: One bad breakup, and you could have every supervillain in the tri-state area showing up on your doorstep. Also, I want to make sure she isn’t going to think I’m a freak.

WONDRA: No kidding! My husband thinks we’re all crazy. For running around in skintight leotards risking our lives.

BANTAM: Geez, how that does work? Is he on your case all the time?

WONDRA: He… still doesn’t know.

BANTAM: He doesn’t?

WONDRA: Well… I took it up after we got married. It’s a hell of a thing to spring on somebody.

BANTAM: It’s true. But it’s either that or lie to them forever and feel guilty.

WONDRA: Oh, wait till you have kids. You might have been up every night this week making the world a safer place for them to live, but if you miss even one school play, you’ve ruined their lives. Then you’ll know what it’s like to feel guilty.

BANTAM: Talk about ungrateful offspring.

WONDRA: When we’re just trying to do the right thing.

BANTAM: To keep people safe.

WONDRA: To keep them safe. That’s just… not all they need from us.

BANTAM: Yeah. So… sometimes you can’t be out there to foil every crime.

WONDRA: Even if it is in your territory.

BANTAM: I guess… we’ll just have to cover for each other when we can. Watch each other’s backs, like.

WONDRA: That sounds pretty good.

BANTAM: You know… I got this family thing coming up next Thursday, they’ll skin me alive if I can’t make it… and the First National Bank over on Treadwell Street’s been seeing some suspicions vans driving around the place. If you’re not busy, maybe you could keep an eye on things for me that night.

WONDRA: My kid’s going to be visiting her grandparents then. I think I can do that.

BANTAM: Thanks, Wondra. That’s really cool.

WONDRA: No problem. And… good job yesterday on 24th Street.

BANTAM: No big deal. I’m usually pretty free on Monday nights.

(They nod at each other. WONDRA bounds off, while BANTAM goes back to keeping vigil from the ledge.)

31 Plays in 31 Days: #12 - "One Can Hide Anything"

Today's piece isn't an independent play, but rather a scene for Mrs. Hawking. I am counting scenes for larger plays as complete pieces for this challenge as long as they have an arc. This scene is where Mary first begins convincing Mrs. Hawking can't always go it alone-- and that perhaps she can be that help.

Day #12 - "One Can Hide Anything" - from Mrs. Hawking

(MRS. HAWKING winces and tenses her left side.)

MARY: Mrs. Hawking, your arm.

MRS HAWKING: I'd quite forgotten.

MRS. FAIRMONT: Oh, my goodness, you’re still hurt! We should send for someone.

MRS. HAWKING: No doctors, Celeste.

MRS. FAIRMONT: But Victoria—

MRS. HAWKING: Certainly not!

MARY: Please— allow me.

(She moves close to MRS. HAWKING, who instinctively withdraws.)

MARY: I have some knowledge of this, madam.

(MRS. HAWKING regards her a moment, and then undresses to her shift. MARY pushes it down off her shoulders and she pulls out her bare arm to reveal a bleeding rawness.)

MARY: Oh, my. This requires some attention. Madam, if you'll bring me the dipper.

(MRS. FAIRMONT brings over the basin of water. MARY draws a white cloth from her apron pocket.)

MARY: Mrs. Fairmont, have you any clean linen about? This will want wrapping.

MRS. FAIRMONT: Oh, yes, of course.

MARY: And some alcohol to clean it.

MRS. FAIRMONT: I'll go and fetch it.

(MRS. FAIRMONT exits. MARY wets her cloth and begins dabbing at MRS. HAWKING's wound.)

MARY: This is serious.

MRS. HAWKING: I have seen worse.

(MARY examines up her arm.)

MARY: You have... so many scars.

MRS. HAWKING: As I said.

MARY: Does this happen... often? In this work that you do?

MRS. HAWKING: On occasion. You may count how often.

(MARY works in silence a moment.)

MARY: And... what do you do?

MRS. HAWKING: Beg your pardon?

MARY: When this happens. If you will not see a doctor.

MRS. HAWKING: I manage well enough on my own.

MARY: I see. If I may ask… what if it were more serious than this? Something that you could not manage on your own?

MRS. HAWKING: Seeking medical attention is out of the question, Miss Stone. Any outside attention risks exposure of my… enterprise.

MARY: I understand. But… you’ve no other assistance? Is there no one trustworthy?

MRS. HAWKING: I cannot chance it. Discovery by the wrong person could mean the end of everything.

MARY: I think you make a great mistake in that.

MRS. HAWKING: I did not ask your opinion, Miss Stone.

MARY: Everyone has need of help sometime.

MRS. HAWKING: You are out of turn, Miss Stone.

MARY: Forgive me, madam… but if there is never anyone to help when you need it, it could mean the end of everything.

MRS. HAWKING: It is an easy thing to say when you need not live in fear of your well-meaning fool of a husband putting a stop to you for what he thinks is your own good.

MARY: He never knew?

MRS. HAWKING: I could not permit it.

MARY: In twenty years of marriage?

MRS. HAWKING: One can hide anything from anyone if one so chooses.

MARY: You couldn't hide it from me.

(MRS. HAWKING’s eyes widen in surprise, and she turns her head to regard MARY very seriously. MRS. FAIRMONT returns with the linen and alcohol. She hands it over to MARY.)

MARY: Thank you.

(She soaks the linen in the alcohol.)

MARY: There will be pain, madam.

MRS. HAWKING: I have no fear of that.

(Her face is stern as MARY wraps her wounds in it.)

31 Plays in 31 Days: #11 - "The Triumph of Law"

And we're back to plays based on The Stand! Apologies again that this one also contains a spoiler from the game. This one is about the backstory of Carson Hill, the PC played thus far by , , and . There's not much I can say about it at the moment, except that I think the ending needs work, but I think this is a very dramatic scene. Again I kind of took it for granted that you knew what they were talking about, so I hope it still reads.

Day #11 - "The  Triumph of Law"

(Three southern gentlemen in suits sit around a table. The two older men, brothers JACKSON and PRESTON HILL, celebrate with whiskey, while the younger man, CARSON HILL, sits staring moodily with his tumbler untouched before him.)

JACKSON: This is it, this is it! Carson, my boy, you’ve done it!

PRESTON: To states’ rights and Carson’s victory!

JACKSON: To the triumph of law!

(They cheer, raise their glasses, and drink. PRESTON then pours them another.)

JACKSON: Hill and Hill Associates… sweet Jesus, I always dreamed of this day. They’re going to be citing this case for decades to come. Any suit about returning runaway slaves, hell, any states’ rights case that comes along, they’re going to trot out Corbett versus the State of New York and that’ll be the end of it. This could be the making of your career already. Who knows what’ll come next? Judgeships, political office… hell, my boy could be a senator someday!

PRESTON: I always knew you’d take them Yankees by storm!

JACKSON: And you made quite an impression on your esteemed client as well.

PRESTON: I’m telling you, boy, it ain’t just anyone that Richard Corbett invites down to his plantation to meet his lovely daughter. Got a high estimation of you and no mistake.

CARSON: Must be.

PRESTON: And how about that Miss Lilah? Pretty little thing, wasn’t she?

CARSON: Sure was.

PRESTON: I hope you were a proper gentleman to her. If she takes a shine to you like her old man has, well, you might just get yourself in a position to inherit the whole place one day!

JACKSON: That’s quite a little kingdom to come into! Look at you, son, you’ll be a king in Georgia, and a conqueror in New York!

(They click glasses and laugh uproariously. CARSON forces a sickly smile.)

JACKSON: What’s the matter with you, now? You been frowning like a bullfrog ever since you got back. Things went well, didn’t they?

CARSON: Not certain I’d say that they did?

JACKSON: What? What happened?

CARSON: Been back east all this time, haven’t been on a plantation in so long. Wasn’t prepared.

PRESTON: For what?

CARSON: Seeing them. All the… all the slaves. Never saw so many before. Old ones, sick ones, covered with scars… pretty awful.

PRESTON: You’re from a plantation family, boy, you know we run on slaves.

CARSON: Yeah, but… I haven’t seen it, not with my own eyes…

JACKSON: Is that all that’s bothering you?

CARSON: No. I… I heard what happened to those boys.

JACKSON: What boys?

CARSON: Those boys we got sent back to Mr. Corbett.

JACKSON: You mean the runaways? What of them?

CARSON: I asked him what became of them when they got back. He told me he had them all killed.

(JACKSON is mildly surprised, but PRESTON shrugs.)

PRESTON: Did he, now? Well, sometimes it’s necessary. Make an example to the others.

CARSON: That’s exactly what Mr. Corbett said.

PRESTON: I’m sure he did. He knows how to run his own concern.

CARSON: We sent them back to their deaths.

JACKSON: Carson, be reasonable. Sometimes a man’s got to take drastic steps to take care of his own business. If he had to put a little discipline down—

(CARSON leaps out of his chair.)

CARSON: Pap! He beat them within an inch of their lives, and then he set a pack of dogs on them! They were ripped limb from limb!

PRESTON: Sure, that’s rough. But ain’t nobody going to run from that plantation anytime soon.

CARSON: Jesus Christ.

PRESTON: It’s the way of things.

CARSON: It’s sick.

JACKSON: What’s gotten into you, boy? Weak stomach all of a sudden? Well, you’d best get a handle on that if you’re going to move forward with your career.

CARSON: Can’t do it. Not anymore.

JACKSON: Can’t do what?

CARSON: I can’t… strut around Albany like I’m cock-o’-the-walk knowing that… this is what everybody respects me for. Fighting so hard to get five boys sent back to a whip and a pack of dogs.

JACKSON: Look here, now. I’m sorry you had to see the ugly side of things, but Carson, every case isn’t going be about slave law. You don’t got time to wrestle with a soft heart, you got a chance to make history here. You got to seize that chance while you can. This is just one case—

CARSON: No, Pap. You don’t understand. Everywhere I go, it’s all anybody can talk about. It’s the headline of every newspaper. How clever I was, how well I argued my case that the state was obligated to return Mr. Corbett’s property to him. “Congratulations, Carson.” “Job well done, Carson.” All I was thinking about was the law, and making it work for me, and the reward that would come once I did. But now… all I got is the blood of those boys on me. They wouldn’t have even been there if I hadn’t argued for it! And now they’re using my win as precedent for other cases against runaways. There are going to be others just like them. That’s my legacy, Pap. Sending boys back to Hell!

PRESTON: Jesus Christ, Carson!

JACKSON: Just what are you saying?

CARSON: I’m saying… I’m done. Done with the law, done with New York and Georgia, done with all of this. I’m moving out west. As far as out as I can go.

JACKSON: And why in God’s name would you do a thing like that?

CARSON: To get as far away as I can from all this. And from you.

PRESTON: You ungrateful wretch! What are you going to do out on some dusty godforsaken frontier? There ain’t no law out there!

CARSON: So much the better.

PRESTON: Have you lost your mind!? What about your career?

CARSON: I don’t want a career built out of dead boys’ bones.

JACKSON: You’d throw everything you ever worked for away… and everything we gave you so you could get there? You were such a smart boy, Carson, you was destined for something big. At sixteen you graduated Harvard Law at the top of your class. Your uncle sent this case your way to help you make your fortune. And you made it, Carson, you made it so that every jurist in the country is going to know your name. This could take you anywhere— the Supreme Court, to Washington, even to the White House someday. And you’d throw it all away for a pack of runaway niggers!?

CARSON: No, Pap. For five murdered men.

(CARSON turns on his heel and storms out.)