Scene rises on NATASHA RUDOLPH sitting on a stool CS.
She is holding a PEN and PAPER while writing and talking simultaneously. A series of projections play in the back showing the scene she’s about to describe. The series of actions between a man and woman show only body parts, no faces. This isn’t exactly just theatre, it’s meta, get over it. Natasha: I’m in a room. It’s dark. One spotlight shining right at me, so I can’t see anything but bright white light. I’m scared because I don’t know where I am. Where are you? I’m scared of a monster attacking me with his great strength and taking me down. I’m scared of the unknown, I’m scared of being lonely, I’m scared of missing someone I love. Where are you, Sam? No matter what I do, no matter where I am, no matter what dangers I face, all I can think about is you, just you, nobody else but you. She remains seated. Natasha starts observing her hands. Look at my hands. Have you ever just looked at yours? The tiny hairs sprouting up; my nails. My hands are rough. It’s not smooth or soft, like how I imagined yours to be…tender, warm. Would you like the roughness of my hands? I feel ashamed of them, but I still want you to come. I’m scared the time’s running out. What if I leave and never see you again? What if we both leave and you forget me? A flash of light and a change of scenery on the projection show, on screen, that she is lying on a large bed. The stage is mostly dark with a bit of moonlight hitting her. I’m cold, it’s cold in here all by myself. And it’s dark…but at least the moon’s shining bright. I can see the outline of the room—it’s huge. Winds coming through the windows, I’m cold. (beat) I feel something, it’s you. You’re right here, you have your arms wrapped around me as you sleep. The scene behind her shows a man embracing a woman in bed. Happiness can’t begin to describe how I’m feeling while I lie next to you. I feel comfort, I feel at home. Man's face is revealed on the video when he spots the camera. He looks angry as he picks it up, throws it down and steps on it. End of play.
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AuthorI write, you read, we friends. Archives
November 2021
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