Day 27: H2WHOAH

Today, the penultimate challenge, was a free choice, re-do a challenge you think you could do better. I decided to re-do the challenge about writing a play without emotion. It's ended up in a bit of a stream of consciousness style again, well I was reacting to it line by line. Probably failed at the emotionless part. If that's true let's say I re-did the "one that only makes sense to you" thing. Or the stream of conciousness one. HA! Only one day left.

                                                            H2WHOA

                                                      By Jeremy Linnell

A: Fire burns

B: Water drowns

A: But which is the victor?

B: The survivors.

A: And in mutual destruction?

B: Those who lost the least.

A: Casualties?

B: Scored points.

A: Callous of you.

B: Realistic.

A: I’d be careful what you say.

B: Aren’t I amongst confidents? Friends even?

A: I made no promises.

B: An unspoken agreement then.

A: Do we ever agree if we don’t speak of it?

B: You’re splitting hairs.

A: Not really. You never asked me. So how could I agree?

B: Friends know.

A: Then I guess we’re not really friends.

B: That feels unfair. I was there when you needed me.

A: And I was there for you. It’s a marriage of convenience. Nothing more. Get over yourself.

B: So you would really think nothing of…putting me out, as it were?

A: Not if I had to. Besides, I thought callousness was a virtue.

B: It’s different up close.

A: Have you eaten?

B: Not lately.

A: You look hungry.

B: I’m fine.

A: That’s a lie.

B: You can’t possibly know…

A: Of course I do. It’s written all over your face. You’re not even trying to hide it are you.

B: I don’t have anything to hide.

A: Is it possible for you to open your mouth and not lie?

B: Just because you disagree does not mean I’m lying.

A: No, lying means you’re lying.

B: We’re at an impasse.

A: No, your need for validation wants you to think that. You wish to think us equals.

B: I should crack your face and reveal your truth.

A: It’s not I who’s the liar. Yes the jellied holes beg for release. They swivel and hunt for a pairing.

B: I somehow feel we’ve gotten off track.

A: Finally something we agree on.

B: Fire and water meet. Who’s the victor?

A: Simple. Steam.

B: Ah so whoever arises from the conflict?

A: That has destroyed the old.

B: Will rise and find its strength.

A: Now you’re getting it.

B: Steam is good for the pores.

A: Pores, pours, doors, whores. What do they have in common?

B: Oh I know this one…I lost it.

A: Well think it through. It makes sense I promise.

B: They all…oh. Nothing. They all have nothing in common.

A: Exactly.

B: It’s a bit of a trick.

A: Sometimes there isn’t a link. Sometimes things just happen.

B: How nihilistic with you.

A: Not really, common misconception.

B: Can’t you let me win just one?

A: You win, when you win. Anything else doesn’t count.

B: It’d boost my self-esteem.

A: Not my job.

B: It’d be nice though.

A: Nothing to do with me. Up to you to manage yourself.

B: Can’t you let me have just one?

A: Pfft. No.

B: But why!

A: Because then I don’t win.

END

Day 26: (r)Evolution

Write a play only you understand. Ok. I can do that! This is based on a dream I had, I've had it kicking about for a while, so it's great to have some use of it.

                                                                          (r)Evolution

                                                                      By Jeremy Linnell

(N.B. All parts are gender neutral. Him is used due to author laziness. At several times the script calls for blackout. However this could be replaced with high pitched static, a siren or anything else that overwhelms the sense of sight or sound. Deprivation or assault)

Scattered about an area through which audience can walk freely are 4 characters Lion, Mouse, Monkey and Rabbit. They wear ornate masks. Their voices come from a place that is not themselves. Lion sits on a tall, ornate chair, on a raised platform with Mouse kneeling beside him. Monkey and Rabbit mill about the room, sometimes inspecting the audiences clothing, or their faces, with wonder or jealousy. They gaze at the platform with open, wanton lust. At various points they can interact with the audience Monkey cajoling, taunting and mocking, while Rabbit seduces and suggests. Mouse will whisper in ears of the best path to take and Lion will simply bark orders from the stage. A musical choice could really aid the atmosphere, one of paranoia, whispers and false hope that might be true.

Rabbit: Who’s Lion today? Is it you?

Monkey: It’s the same Lion as yesterday.

Rabbit: Where’s Parrot?

Monkey: Gone. Lion won.

Rabbit: Perhaps today?

Monkey: Unlikely. We’re short now. Lion will remain for a while, I think.

Rabbit: When will Parrot return?

Monkey: Never. As another animal perhaps, but when?

Rabbit: What if we…

Monkey: No, not with Mouse beside them. Mouse sees all. For protection.

Rabbit: The shades return. They surround us. They might help.

Monkey: Who, though? You could use your talents, Rabbit. Give them an incentive.

Rabbit: A Lion doesn’t use the skills of a Rabbit.

Monkey: Form was given to suit. Too much time doing what rabbits do?

Rabbit: You talk too much and give yourself away. Jealousy ill becomes you Monkey. Silence always wins. Now hush, Lion speaks.

A ritual begins, movement around the space, urging the audience to move with it. Mouse leads as Lion refuses to move from the stage.

Lion: Today I am Lion. There is no Lion other than me. Once I devour you all then Lion shall be free.

REST: You are Lion, to feast you’re free, but devour the rest and set me free.

Lion: So sure in my power this I decree: If it’s Lion that’s devoured then Lion you’ll be.

REST: Your generous rules keep us fair and free.

Mouse returns to the stage, standing slightly behind Lion. Monkey and Rabbit converse amongst themselves and consider the audience.

Mouse: Rabbit and Monkey appear to be plotting. I suggest, perhaps, that we, that is, you, could push them to devour each other.

Lion: My interference is unnecessary, their fight will drain and distract them, I shall devour their weakened corpses.

Mouse: If there is nothing left for us, pardon me, you, then what?

Lion: There are other options.

Mouse: Surely we must consider the day lost.

Lion: And try again tomorrow. There are many faces to wear. Death ends the day. I am Lion.

Through this exchange Monkey and Rabbit have continued to talk, to examine the audience and possibly close the circle or open up pathways in the room. They explore, examine and question. Monkey notices Mouse and Lion talking. Monkey beckons Mouse. After a moments consideration Lion gives their consent and allows Mouse leave.

Monkey: You betray us Mouse, Lion will devour you too.

Mouse: Later. Last survivor sees all.

Rabbit: We could blind you.

Mouse: Open violence? In this place? You’d ruin us all.

Monkey: An eternity seeking your ruin is more meaningful than your escape.

Rabbit: I still remember when Parrot pecked out your eyes.

Mouse: And yet here I stand, free to see. Lion guards. Parrot failed. Back they go. They must start again.

Monkey and Rabbit look to each other

Both:  Before this days end we will see your corpse upon Lion’s teeth, and feast upon his marbled flesh. Parrot’s fate will not be ours.

A dance, a synchronising of ideals, with broken intent. They want to click like gears yet they grind like the same.

A BLACKOUT OR PERHAPS A SIREN AND STATIC, AURAL BLANKNESS TIME PASSES AND DEATH COLLECTS

At lights up Monkey and Rabbit are panting, desperate, separate. Broken? Not quite, But close. Maybe they should be.

Mouse and Lion: The shades gaze. Why show your worst to those worthless voyeurs. Our Faces protect us.

Rabbit: We showed nothing, you own and control. Our eyes were shut. Anything seen was an illusion.

Mouse: You call Lion delusional?

Monkey: You twist through broken insight, Mouse. Projecting your own faults. The lights were black and the gaze was broken. You know the rules.

Rabbit: We can still break you little one.

Lion: Not while I command.

Monkey: So you say, but Lion is the least of us.

Mouse: Nonsense. He makes the rules.

Monkey: But easily displaced. He’s ours to use.

Lion: Silence. Monkey your petty attempts at usurping are not unnoticed. (A beat) Your partner is silent.

Rabbit: Considering my options.

Lion: Consider this. Monkey offers you nothing but taunting and betrayal. I offer comfort.

Rabbit: And your seated majesty promises more.

Monkey: Do not listen.

Monkey slaps Rabbit. A bell rings. Deep. Dooming. Damning.

ALL: We fail and now it comes. We must atone. Offer the prayer.

All sing. Loud. Anthemic. Hypnotic. The song is awful, broken, but oh so memorable. A chant.

Rabbit approaches Lion. There is arousal, we all want it. Suck it. Drink it. Taste them. Rabbit pauses before stepping upon the stage, Lion gives a gesture of approval.

Rabbit: Why trust the eyes of something so small?

Lion: Your face displeases me, frame it for my pleasure and I will listen.

Rabbit: You were once whore.

Lion: As were you. We rotate.

Rabbit: To please.

Lion: To survive.

Monkey: You broken fools destroyed us last.

Mouse: You do not get to interfere.

Monkey: They broke and damned us. My voice is needed.

Lion: Quiet. We’re here through choice.

Monkey: The choice to leave.

Rabbit: Afraid to stay?

Monkey: We all know the rules.

Mouse: And we know that Lion can change them.

Monkey: So why should he change them for you?

Rabbit: Why should we break for you?

Monkey: Your cock and cunt atrophies, your stagnation drags us down. Parrot knew better.

Rabbit: That’s not an answer.

Monkey: Lion is not our only escape.

Mouse: The masks guide us.

Monkey: The roles enslave us.

Lion: If we move up the door will open.

Rabbit: Parrot was a fool. Death was our door.

Lion: We can free each other.

Mouse:  If we follow the rules.

Monkey: You know nothing. Our blood is spilling and filling the veins of another. Parrot is gone and we shall follow. We cannot leave.

Lion: I was appointed.

Mouse: The rules were given.

Rabbit grinds upon Lion’s crotch

Rabbit: And we can follow.

Lion: We came. Freely. We joined. Willingly.

Monkey: Who remembers the joining? Our history is worthless.

Lion: It demonstrates my power

Rabbit: Tell us. Please.

Monkey: The words seduce, you fools allow them to fuck your ears. I will not watch their spunk dribble inside your worthless holes.

Monkey shrinks back in to the crowd, away from the stage. He sits among them, refusing to take part. Pointedly he turns his chair to face away.

Lion: I summoned all the lost and damned, to prove their worth. Those that were unworthy were cast away. Those that I favour will leave when I do. I shaped this place, and you, to bring out your best selves. This is why I am Lion.

Rabbit and Mouse listen intently.

Mouse: You are wise.

Lion: I know.

Rabbit: And powerful.

Lion: I know.

Rabbit rubs Lion

Rabbit: Tell us more of this place.

Lion: The shades that surround us are also my creation. To protect and guard; myself and my chosen.

Blackout. On Lights up Mouse is dead. The mask removed and replaced with one that is blank and featureless. Empty vessel. The Mouse mask sits on the floor beside Rabbit

Lion: Who killed Mouse?

Rabbit: Me, my Lion. To prove devotion. Mouse was a traitor. Plotting to murder you.

Lion: And you no doubt. You have proven yourself well.

Rabbit: My strength comes from you. I was only able to kill with you beside me.

Lion: When the time comes we shall leave together.

Blackout. When we return this time Lion is dead, slumped on the throne, mask removed and replaced with a blank face. Rabbit holds both trophies, rocking back and forth on their heels, contemplating Monkey

Monkey: Clever, Rabbit. Using your Face to hide behind. Looking to be the next Lion? They should have heeded my warning and ignored you.

Rabbit: Let me have your Face. It can be without pain. You have been Monkey too long, it becomes you.

Monkey: Surely you take me for a fool Rabbit. Our Faces are the key. A key that one earns, not takes through selling themselves.

Movement. Rabbit seducing Monkey. Monkey retreats in to the audience. A bell rings.

Monkey: The death trigger beckons. My body is not yours. The day is over.

Rabbit: But tomorrow I’m Lion. I shall devour you.

Monkey: But you won’t leave.

Blackout, faded down as the bell continues to ring. Sink out in to nothingness and oblivion.

END

Day 25: Static

Anger? What makes you angry? Write a play about that. Unleash your inner demons and tell the world what you think of it. Maybe even how to fix it. That's roughly what our brief was for today. I'm not smart/arrogant enough to tell people how to fix things. This was also kind of an experiment with format. The formatting is really important so I hope blogger preserves it. This is a pseudo stream of consciousness piece (I followed my nose mostly, but with time to reflect on what I was writing instead of a complete brain dump)

                                                                                  Static

                                                                        By Jeremy Linnell

A man, dripping blood, strapped to a school desk, is wheeled on by two people. Their forms large and imposing, their faces obscured. They hold the knives, ready to carve his meat. An explosion of static. Here we go.

Sound the alarm

                                    Can you hear me?

Stop that                                                                      You’re acting childish

                        It’s for your own good

                                                                                                                        You’re lying to yourself

1300 dead

Please fill out the form

New victims found at the scene

10-15 working days

                                                                                                            A number of children

Did you just push in?

                                                No

                                                                                    No

No

                        No

                                                            No

                                                                                                            I really mean it

What are you some sort of freak?

                                                                        It should be illegal

Monitoring

                                                            For your own safety

            Why didn’t you tell me?

                                                                                                            Mass graves

                        Dead for days

                                                            If you’ve done nothing wrong you have nothing to hide

Security enforced media blackout

                                   

                                                            It all hurts

3

                                                2

                                                                                                                        1

                                    Oh he’s off again

                                                                                                Another rant

Another one of his moods

                                                            Paedophile ring

2.5 million unemployed

                                                                                    £39 for breakfast

                                    Have you tried breathing?

            You just need to get on with things.

                                                                                                            Everyone gets sad

503,000 vacanies

                                                Immigrants cause traffic congestion

I wouldn’t worry about it

Oh look at this: Katie vs Katie

We’re here to help

£30,000 for getting you a job

Your best interests at heart

So trust us, ok?

You have a bit of an attitude

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

                        What are those scars?

                                                                                    I think we need some time apart

I can’t give you the help you need

                                                                                                You manic episodes scared me

            I tried to warn you this would happen

                                                It always does

                                                                        Over and over

                                                                                                And over

Until it stops

                                                            30 years is more than enough

Do you want 30 more? How about 35?

                                                                                                Why don’t you do something?

This is the way it has to be.

                                                Do you really think that would work?

You’re a fucking idiot.

                                                                        No you can’t leave.

                                    Sometimes you just have to take it.

             That’s what being a grown up is

                                                LET’S GET BACK TO THE REST OF IT

Ignore my problems

                                                            Tasers used on 400 children in 2013

                                    There’s probably a good reason

            Have you seen children these days?

No good

            No worth

                        No hope

                                    N

                                                E

                                                            E

                                                                        T

So how are the kids?

                                                                                    Expenses

                        ISIS soldiers

                                                                                                Blew up a school

Watched his friends die

                                                They’re all self-harming these days

                        Probably like the attention

                                    Is it really your place to ask?

                                                                                                            Maybe I should just shut up?

            No it’s ok.

                                                Please understand.

                                                This is how it has to be

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.