Day 24: The Half Tongue God

Write a play in gibberish/a made up language, again with a reason for things being the way they were, and if possible being dramatic, not funny, was today's brief. Functionally this is pretty similar to doing a play without language, at least in my opinion. So I thought it'd be more interesting if there were two languages, meaning it wasn't just the audience the characters could not communicate with. Although another option for that would be have only one character afflicted, which opens up exposition...

 I had a really clear idea of what I wanted to do with this and what I wanted it to be about. I'm not entirely convinced it's successful in that regard, so it may well be something I come back to later.        

                                                             The Half-Tongue God

                                                                  By Jeremy Linnell

Note: Megan speaks with a language that is deeply guttural, with strong, defined vowel sounds that contrast Frank words and statements. Musically she is the percussion.

In contrast Frank speaks with a more flowing soft consonant based language. He is the woodwind and the harp.

Scene 1

A normal flat in the UK. Megan enters, clearly back from a very long trip, carrying a large box with her. She is greeted warmly by Frank. He takes the box from her and places it on their table.

Megan: Whufta! Inha belinfth.

Frank looks deeply confused and deeply concerned.

Frank:  Malfulll? Uulluu folniholooo.

Frank approaches Megan. She shakes her head in confusion.

Megan: Intee…het philana.

They stare at each other. Frank places his hand on Megan’s forehead.

Frank: Malfulll? Swollvulm e houlmess?

Megan swats his hand away

Megan: Intuu het mintanta!

The stare at each other. The following is said together

Frank: Llllioul!

Megan: Pntan!

They laugh, having picked up on each other’s attempt to swear their tits off.

They both sit at the table and think.

Frank: Ouloul ou ellallial?

Megan shakes her head.

Megen: Yt mn htse… Wut wut khet fah.

Megan pulls over the box she brought back. She opens it. She pulls out an ornate, impossibly detailed statue.

 It is an ugly thing, an obese, genderless monstrosity, webbed feet, squat legs, rips in its stomach with detailed entrails poking out, wings stretching out from weeping sores of its back. Its face is the worst part though. Flaps of skin a carved off, revealing muscle, a horn grows out of one of these rips and curves up, poking out its own eye. Finally, and this is perhaps the most important, is its tongue. A huge flapping piece of meat that lolls out its mouth and down it’s torso that appears the have been cruelly cut in half.  

She sets it on the table. Frank stares.

Frank: Yallly y hulal!?

Megan: En ut na Wnt Wnt.

Frank: Il oul u “Wnt Wnt”?

Megan nods. The lights dim as they continue to talk, trying to figure out each other’s strange new language.

Scene 2

It is several days (weeks?) later. The state of the flat has deteriorated. Dirty dishes in the sink. Piles of clothing. Rubbish needs taking out. Bills on the table etc etc. Megan and Frank are on stage, in the midst of an attempt at discussion. They both look a bit dishevelled, perhaps they’ve not slept. Maybe not even left the house. On the walls are messages, scrawled bits of their languages, along with stick drawings depicting their meaning. Despite all the freshly growing chaos, hover, the statue sits on the table undisturbed.

 Megan: Jut jut int mohn!

She points at the dishes. Frank shakes his head

Frank: Willloullial. Nilhul. Nihul!

Frank angrily points at the bills and then begrudgingly goes to wash some dishes. He still understands that at least.

Frank: Jul ou lal. Illl hum allie.

After washing a scant few he stops.

Megan: Et mah endut?

Frank: “Et mah endut?”

Megan: Tunt? Aht ket wunt.

Frank rolls his eyes.

Frank: Heeloou llamnou?

Megan shakes her head in frustration. Grabs a pen and paper. Draws a picture of them trying to speak.

Megan: Mhuty mhut!

Frank knocks it out of her hand.

Megan stares at him.

Megan: Jut kut.

Lights dim.

Scene 3

More time has passed. The flat has been split in two, a no man’s land of boxes, rubbish and debris marking the centre. And yet, even still, the statue still sits atop this pile. Watching.

Megan and Frank are asleep on their respective sides.

Frank wakes up.

Frank: Illlilllilllililllll!

Megan wakes with a start.

Megan: Ght.

Megan and Frank do their morning routine on each of their sides. Make a tea, some food.

Megan throws a wadded up bit of paper at Frank. Giggles.

Frank: Oulal.

Frank picks it up and throws it back. It hits the statue instead. Megan rushes to it and caresses it, checking it’s ok..

Megan: Ffntna int rhunta!

Frank shakes his head. Walks over to the dividing line. Pushes the statue. It wobbles and threatens to fall.

Megan: Rhunta!

Megan grabs the statue from him. Frank tries to grab it back. They collapse in to the pile of boxes, wrestling over the statue. Suddenly Megan is astride Frank, statue in hand. She smashes it in to his face.

Megan: Pntan! Rhunta! Fnthu!

Each word is punctuated with a blow to Frank’s head.

Megan rests atop him breathing heavily. She climbs off. Calmly goes back to her side. Sits on her bed. Caresses the statue lovingly. Cuddles it. Her statue. Her Half-Tongue God.

The End.