Alysse Aallyn

Category: #InnerLife

  • The Dalingridge Horror – a play by Alysse Aallyn

    (Leonard & Virginia Woolf in the Conservatory at Dalingridge Hall)

    VIRGINIA
    If only I could trust you.

    LEONARD
    You can.

    VIRGINIA
    But these drugs turn my brain to cotton wool. There’s a pattern behind the cotton wool, if only I could find it. Did you know the Duckworths, that incestuous race, were cotton merchants? Coining money from the cotton wool that packs me now. If only I could fight back! But my will is so fragmented. My theory is that we all live so dishonestly, unconsciously, disconnected and detached. You are such a stranger! Everything about you is different. That must be why I married you.

    LEONARD
    Tell me everything, Virginia. Tell me what you fear, so we can kill it.

    VIRGINIA
    Where does one begin? Last night I looked in the mirror beneath a pitiless light and suddenly a dreadful animal face showed itself behind me. He bellowed, he stared, his nostrils flared. The pig’s snout broke the mirror until my thighs ached. How could one forget the thrusting of that ugly snout, the snout that meant starvation, pain and death? The purple foaming stain. Somehow it was all my fault. Roars of laughter at my expense. Dream or was it a memory? All that’s left is hopeless sadness. Being dragged down into a pit of absolute despair. Powerlessness. Paralysis. That’s what I remember.

    LEONARD
    Begin at the beginning.

    VIRGINIA
    The beginning is insomnia. I lie awake at night listening to a senile old man gasping, croaking vile indecencies. I thought it was Father, having a fit of the horrors. But the nurse said it was only a cat. Or perhaps the beginning was the whooping cough. I think I knew happiness before I became so ill. The grownups laughed with me, not at me. Whooping cough steals the breath – none of us could breathe. The atmosphere was tangled, matted with emotion. All the children came down with it, all of us gasping. Mother ran from bed to bed until her skin was paper thin and the bones stood out. I used to wonder if Mother had traded my life for hers, until I remembered she preferred the boys. Women serve, men are served.

    LEONARD
    But all of you recovered.

    VIRGINIA
    They threw me into a tank with Gerald, the alligator. Drowning. I knew I must not sink. Couldn’t get my head above the whirlpool.

    LEONARD
    Go on.

    VIRGINIA
    They covered the mirrors when Mother died. I was thirteen. Vanessa was sixteen, Thoby fifteen. Stella was twenty-five, quite grown up. George was twenty-seven, Gerald twenty-four. Adrian was twelve. No one told me what was happening. I was taken to her bed to say good bye but Mother seemed reproachful, so condemning and stern. She said, “Hold yourself straight, little Goat.”

    LEONARD
    Why were you called Goat?

    VIRGINIA
    I was Goat because I couldn’t control my purple rages. The others hated that he talked to me and gave me books. He didn’t allow Stella to read Cousine Bette but said it couldn’t harm me, because I had read Gibbons on the fall of Rome.

    LEONARD
    Did everyone have nicknames?

    VIRGINIA
    Adrian was Wombat, Nessa was the Saint. Thoby was the Goth because he fought. Mother advised self-control to everyone but Father. My mother had two characters, I think. Her real self, and the Angel in the House. Stifler and the life-giver. And to this day I have the oddest feeling that I’m two people, too.

    LEONARD
    Are you talking about the poet Coventry Patmore’s Angel in the House?

    VIRGINIA
    Yes. Wasn’t she so popular? Singing, “Sacrifice. Sacrifice yourself.” I caught her by the throat and killed her. It was self-defense. I had to kill her or she would have killed me.

    LEONARD
    Your mother died of pneumonia, Virginia. Don’t feel guilty, Children are disgustingly violent, every one of them. It’s a wonder anyone lives to grow up. I’ve decided brute strength is the enemy of thought – that’s why bullies rule and why we must all be pacifists and abjure force, even though it goes against our natures. Tell me, was this “angel” thing why Nessa was called Saint?

    VIRGINIA
    No. That was because she was too proud to tell a lie. We hid from Father in the garden, and when he demanded, Didn’t we hear me calling? We all said No. Only Nessa said Yes. I told her she was an old fraud.

    LEONARD
    Goat is the worst name, I think.

    VIRGINIA
    No, that was Stella! She was the Cow, because she brought the milk.

    LEONARD
    These nicknames are strangely degrading.

    VIRGINIA
    I named myself Miss Jan. I so longed to be someone else. Laura was the worst of us but she was called Her Ladyship of the Lake.

    LEONARD
    How old was Laura and why on earth was she called that?

    VIRGINIA
    Laura was exactly Gerald’s age. But she was gone by the time mother died. Sent away, because she wouldn’t mind. Father said she was the Giver of the Sword because she forced him to punish her. Then she screamed so he had to punish her more. When Maitland was writing Father’s life he said that everything about Laura would have to be suppressed. Everyone hated Laura.

    LEONARD
    Why did you hate her?

    VIRGINIA
    Temper tantrums. We all had temper tantrums, but hers were worse. Father was still having them, but Mother could calm him.

    LEONARD
    So, Laura went to an asylum?

    VIRGINIA
    When I was ten. Until then she lived with a governess at the top of the house. At night, we heard her howling like an animal.

    LEONARD
    Did your parents ever say what exactly was the problem?

    VIRGINIA
    Mother said she was wicked. Father said she was perverse. Thoby thought she wouldn’t stop touching herself. I read all Father’s letters when I helped Maitland with his book. Father begged Mother to marry him to help with Laura.

    LEONARD
    But she couldn’t help, could she?

    VIRGINIA
    Abominable system, family life. It goes from ignorance and indifference to denial and contempt, open attack and ultimate destruction. None of it was Mother’s fault. She was always visiting the poor and making them clothes. I always thought the poor knew how to enjoy themselves better than we do, because we are cooped up, day after day while they walk out freely.

    LEONARD
    Did you ever visit Laura?

    VIRGINIA
    Once I went with Stella. Laura spoke only gibberish. The only comprehensible sentence was, “I told him to go away.” I couldn’t go back because that was where I saw the deformed men.

    LEONARD
    I don’t understand why Stella was The Cow. Wasn’t she a young, beautiful girl?

    VIRGINIA
    I thought her lovelier than Mother. She was so pale, so white, she looked like cow parsley by moonlight. I don’t think Mother loved her, really. She was Mother’s loyal handmaid. Stella taught us our letters. She was supposed to look after Father when Mother was gone, and Mother was absent a lot.

    LEONARD
    Where did your mother go?

    VIRGINIA
    Nursing the sick. Mother loved nursing the sick, she said they were easier than the well. She seemed always so far away, in her mind. When we spoke to her she looked through us as if she didn’t see us. While Mother was gone, Stella stood in for her.

    LEONARD
    Didn’t Stella have a life of her own?

    VIRGINIA
    She turned down proposals, I know that. Mother didn’t want her to marry. Cousin Jem was obsessed with her – we children were frightened of him.

    LEONARD
    Cousin Jem? Wasn’t he the mad cousin?

    VIRGINIA
    Yes, but before he was locked up, he conceived a passion for Stella. He would run into the house, shouting, while Stella fled up the front stairs. He pursued her, bellowing, right to the nursery where he speared our toast on his swordstick. I thought he looked like a tormented bull. Father said to tell him Stella wasn’t home, but Mother said she could never bar her door to Jem. She said she loved him and he needed us because he was banned from all his clubs. Once he abducted me and Mother.

    LEONARD
    He abducted you?

    VIRGINIA
    Yes, funny, I’d forgotten it till just this moment. I suppose that’s how memory works. He took us to his rooms because he wanted me to pose for him. Mother didn’t want to go, but she couldn’t stop him. As he painted, he declaimed his own poetry:

    “if all the harm that were done by men
    were doubled and doubled and doubled again
    squared and raised to the power of ten
    there wouldn’t be nearly enough, not near
    to keep a small girl for a tenth of a year.”

    LEONARD
    And you were a small girl.

    VIRGINIA
    I was. The smallest. I never saw the picture.

    LEONARD
    How did you get away?

    VIRGINIA
    Did I get away? I don’t remember. I always stammered when I told him Stella wasn’t home so he knew I was lying. When he grabbed me by the collar I thought of the Ripper Man who had been in all the papers. This is what they must have felt, those women, when they were grabbed by Ripper Man. I’m afraid I wet myself and Nurse was angry. She punished everything I did, but I never listened to her. Nurse claimed all emotions like fear, dread, disgust – come from desiring the wrong food or not moving one’s bowels. Children must accept whatever’s given. If you show a preference, then that’s the very thing you’re not allowed to have. It’s as bad for a girl to cry for what she wants as for a boy to land a blow. Yet we did both, because Nurse was nobody.

    LEONARD
    Cousin Jem was taken away to the madhouse. That was a good thing, surely.

    VIRGINIA
    Where he starved himself to death, and that’s what I shall do if ever you lock me up in one of those places.

    LEONARD
    Go back to your mother’s death.

    VIRGINIA
    I didn’t know what had happened until I saw the nurses crying. I thought they were pretending and we should laugh at them but everyone pulled a face. I went to kiss Mother but she was cold as iron. I never touch iron without thinking of her. Father caromed off people and walls, seeking anyone to wail against. It was like being shut up in a cage with a wild beast.

    LEONARD
    My family was rigidly quiet when my father died. Stiff upper lip, get on with it, try harder, everyone must buckle down. That sort of thing.

    VIRGINIA
    A family is a conspiracy, driven by uncontrollable lusts. I saw a man sitting with mother’s corpse but the others saw no one there. We became unmoored, entering a time of hopeless suspense, muddle, mismanagement, battling the stupidity of those in power. It was as if a finger had been laid upon our lips, sentencing us to a sultry, opaque miasma that choked us and blinded us. Father shouted at Stella if she didn’t stock his writing paper or ordered too much fish. I knew it really was because she couldn’t tell him he was a first-rate writer, as mother always did. Stella had no mind and nobody respected her. Poor father was haunted by fears that he only had a third-class mind.

    LEONARD
    And did he, do you think?

    VIRGINIA
    His ego crippled him. Self-assertion is so loathsome. Father began writing The Mausoleum Book. About death. He wailed from the top of the stairs, “We perished, each alone.” Nothing is to be dreaded so much as egotism. Stella tried her best to rescue us. I wasn’t kind to her because she dragged me to the dentist and ordered all my clothes. I couldn’t bear standing for inspection while being stuck with pins. She was made me wear stays for the first time. Then Stella fell in love.

    LEONARD
    With Jack Waller Hills. Did you like him?

    VIRGINIA
    I did then, but I realized later he was a terrible old Fascist. He used to say, “the weak are wrongdoers who foul the nets.” I know he meant me, that I was a weak wrongdoer. In the end, he was a typical man who liked to have his way. He always put his great hoof down. But at first, he seemed the only truth-teller we had ever met. I was thirsty for knowledge, and he knew things. He taught me how to sugar trees for moths, how to collect and mount butterflies, how to take pride in killing beautiful things. He told me everything about sex, about “street love”, common love, why it is that women can never walk alone. I was so shocked. I asked, What about honor? He said men never think of honor, that they had women constantly, so all their talk of purity is nonsense. Every man has his whore. Every woman except the cheap ones must be locked up tight. Yet they call women fallen! Men are the whores. It makes no sense to me.

    LEONARD
    It does sound mad.

    VIRGINIA
    The night Jack proposed a tramp broken into the garden. Thoby threatened him, shouting at him to go away. We were always frightened of tramps – it seemed they could get in anywhere. I was afraid one had invaded the house and was lurking and leering, waiting to pounce. But it was only Jack. When Father found out about the engagement he tried to stop the wedding but Stella had her own money so he could do nothing. He postponed the wedding until Stella agreed to buy the house next door so that she could still take care of him. During all this Nessa and I were forced to chaperone. You can’t think how awful it is to sit between a couple whispering and trying to touch. I was so angry at Stella I broke my umbrella in half.

    LEONARD
    Child chaperones? Whatever will they think of next?

    VIRGINIA
    I know! I often think I’m the only one who isn’t crazy! Stella and Jack convinced the aunts that Nessa and I could accompany them properly to Bognor but immediately we got there they sent us two out into the rain so they could be alone. We were soaked to the skin!

    LEONARD
    Was there no one who could speak for you?

    VIRGINIA
    The old aunts were the worst of the lot. They curdled our brains with their falsehoods and their pieties. The wedding was the most horrible ordeal. Nessa and I resolved to be Stoic and show no emotion, as if it were nothing touching us. If ever you show feelings you are treated like a beast at the zoo and will never escape the cage. Thus we were buried beneath obligations, under torrents of uncomfortable clothes, awkward visits and unspeakable rituals. I think we are to be congratulated, you and I, that we sidestepped that whole mess so neatly.

    LEONARD
    Yes, the registry office is so much better. It’s over so fast. But after the wedding?

    VIRGINIA
    The happy couple went to Italy, and we were left alone with Father. He was awful to Nessa, how I hated him! He shouted at her as he’d shouted at Stella. But Nessa stood up to him, she was a rock, she didn’t care. That’s when she summoned up her supreme indifference. It’s the bane of all who love her.

    LEONARD
    But Vanessa had no money of her own.

    VIRGINIA
    No. If Stella hadn’t given us allowances we would have had to beg Father for every penny. And then Stella and Jack came home early because Stella was ill.

    LEONARD
    What was wrong with her?

    VIRGINIA
    Violet Dickinson told me Jack must have hurt her with his violent lovemaking. That he broke her somehow. But Violet was just a spinster, so what could she possibly know? The doctors called it appendicitis but you know what cretins they turned out to be. They couldn’t operate because of the baby – she was pregnant, of course. On the night she died, I was sleeping in her new house – in her dressing room in fact –

    LEONARD
    You were sleeping in Stella’s dressing room?

    VIRGINIA
    Yes, I’d been so ill, you see. I always got ill when people went away. But Stella was dying so they sent George to fetch me. George the over-fed pug dog, fat as a louse, beady-eyed as a rat. He wrapped me in Stella’s fur cape and carried me back to Father’s house.

    LEONARD
    And then?

    VIRGINIA
    Stella died and Jack was left bereaved. Now we had two widowers wailing. The men in our family hardly waited for the bodies to be buried before turning to their next victim. I remember Jack holding my wrist on one side so tightly he left bruises, and George holding me on the other side. I was trapped, you see, I couldn’t get away. George won so Jack settled on Nessa. They actually wanted to marry! I couldn’t believe it. I told Nessa, you can’t be serious! She said, “So you’re against me too,” and gave me a look that broke my heart. But she knew they couldn’t marry because of the Deceased Wife’s Sister’s Act.

    LEONARD
    They could have married in France.

    VIRGINIA
    That’s what they say about everything, that “the French get away with it.” Luckily it all blew over because Nessa was granted a place at the Slade. Then I was quite alone. George pounced immediately and began ordering clothes and jewels to release me into society. I was the sacrificial offering to his violent gusts of passion and his mean little piggy brain.

    LEONARD

    And then?

    VIRGINIA

    And then Father began to die and I went mad a little. After he died, I went mad a lot.

    LEONARD

    Well, it isn’t any wonder, from what I’ve heard. If you are mad then so am I.

    VIRGINIA
    You can’t think how long I’ve waited for those words!

    (she reaches out a hand to him – he clutches it and kisses it)

    LEONARD

    Dearest! You will always be my only love!

    (they gaze at each other, both trembling with pent-up emotion)

    VIRGINIA
    But darling, if Dr. Craig consigns me to deepest darkness you will have to marry someone else. You can’t waste your life waiting for me.

    LEONARD
    That won’t happen. Craig says our future’s what we make of it.

    VIRGINIA
    Oh, honey mongoose! Let’s make a pact right now to rise above the nay-sayers. You have given me all the best things I have ever had in life, rescued me from the cliff edge again and again. You have been absolutely perfect to me, and I have been disgraceful to you. You work so hard and I do nothing. It’s all my fault. I was mad and angry before I met you and I am madder and angrier right now. I want you to know that I do want to cuddle you but I don’t know how to show it. In spite of my vilest imaginings I’ve always known that I love you and that you love me.

    (he leans his face towards her, she awkwardly moves closer and they kiss delicately)

    LEONARD
    Virginia, I promise not to ever push you any farther than you want to go.

    VIRGINIA
    Oh honey! And I promise to follow all your rules; early bed, milk for breakfast; just so long as I can always read and write.

    (they embrace)

    LEONARD

    If ever you cease writing I shall divorce you immediately.

    VIRGINIA

    (laughing awkwardly as if she has forgotten how)

    It’s a bargain. Oh, darling, shall we really have our own press and print all our own work?


    LEONARD
    Yes, and some of your friends if they are good enough. You decide.

    VIRGINIA

    And can I have a bulldog, too? I’ve always wanted a bulldog pup.

    LEONARD

    Certainly, my pet.

    VIRGINIA

    And can we live in London? A new house all our own?

    LEONARD

    Not London but perhaps some leafy suburb.

    VIRGINIA

    Leonard! Suburbs!

    LEONARD

    Think of the bulldog, Virginia. He must have a healthful life.

    VIRGINIA

    You’re right of course, Leonard. You are always right.

    LEONARD

    Bulldogs need a place to roam.

    VIRGINIA

    Fresh air and food. Lots of good red steak.

    LEONARD

    May I order dinner now, Virginia? Surely, it’s time.

    VIRGINIA
    Yes, Leonard.

    (She clutches his hand fiercely while with his other he rings the bell) CURTAIN – END

  • The Dalingridge Horror – a play by Alysse Aallyn

    (In the Conservatory at Dalingridge Hall)

    VIRGINIA
    Go away, Leonard. I can’t bear to hear you lie to me.

    LEONARD
    I’m not lying when I say I want you to get well more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.

    VIRGINIA
    Don’t bother making me feel guilty, I already know I’m wasting your life. If only I weren’t so stupid a Mandrill, so unworthy of her poor, virtuous outsider Mongoose who is so thin, who trembles so much and who tries so hard. You have headaches too, you suffer from recurring malaria. Why should you toil so that I can be idle? I know these doctors’ bills are crushing us. Nessa sold the silver, I sold the jewelry, Thoby sold the Thackeray letters. What’s left, Leonard? Will you scheme with them to isolate me until there’s nothing left?

    LEONARD
    I can earn money writing. I’ve proved that. You can earn money writing, you’ve proved that. But to get back in the fight we must be hardy and strong.

    VIRGINIA
    I should never have married you. What kind of a wife can I ever be? Save yourself, Leonard. It’s too late for me. Let the wind blow, let the poppy seed itself, let the carnation mate with the cabbage. Let the swallow build her nest in the drawing room where the thistle thrusts between the tiles. Let all civilization be like broken china tangled over with blackberries and grass.

    LEONARD
    That you demand so much of existence, still fighting as you sit among George’s flowers, shows you’re feeling better. What we must do is keep up the strengthening. A few more days, Virginia.

    VIRGINIA
    But how can I return to you? There’s the undisputed fact of my sexual cowardice. Perhaps it’s really nothing but my terror of real life that keeps me in this nunnery. I tried telling my parents but they didn’t want to hear. Parents have forgotten their own childhood. Or they don’t want to remember.

    LEONARD
    What did you try to tell them? You can say anything to me.

    VIRGINIA
    I saw the spirits of evil as soon as I could speak, but because I was a girl child I was not supposed to know. Each child hugs its vice, brooding over the swollen vein, the bruised flesh that was white and sweet but yesterday.

    LEONARD
    I told my parents that life is unquestionably vile and humanity’s nothing but an ant heap. Parents never want to hear that.

    VIRGINIA
    That’s what I love about you, Leonard. You at least will speak the truth. Sometimes.

    LEONARD
    It’s a fallacy to think that children are happy. They’re not. I never suffered so much as when I was a child. Children never forget injustice. But here is the heart of it, Virginia. What we write depends upon what we think. What “spirits of evil” did you see?

    VIRGINIA
    Going to practice Dr. Head’s talking cure on me, are you? Is that the plan? I could make up a dozen stories – I see a dozen pictures. But when I open my mouth I am locked up and shut away. What is my true story? Something lies deeply buried. Shall I grasp it or let it mortify in the depths of my mind? I want to describe the world seen without a self. But I am afraid that there is no future. There are no words.

    LEONARD
    There are words, and there is a future we shall make. Tell me. Tell me everything.

    VIRGINIA
    When I was young, I dug furiously to uncover myself. When I discovered that I was me and not anyone else it seemed a wonderful achievement. Once I sat beside my stepsister Stella on roots as hard as skeletons, and the next day she was a skeleton. It’s strange how the dead leap out on us at street corners or in dreams. Don’t you remember that morning at breakfast when I saw my mother? You said she wasn’t there.

    LEONARD
    I saw nothing.

    VIRGINIA
    Cambridge educated everything but your eyes. What is the hope of talking to you? That was the morning was when I first became aware of the enemies who change but are always present; the forces we must fight even though we suffer terribly becoming separate bodies. Don’t you recognize the enemy advancing against us, pawing at his pavement? It is death. Death is the enemy.

    LEONARD
    Marriage is the opposing force against death. A marriage of true minds can fight all enemies. Once upon a time we shared our thoughts, and fell in love. I needed someone who could hold her own, and there you were. You are the only wife I ever wanted, the only woman I have ever loved. Please, Virginia, I want you to come back to me.

    VIRGINIA

    (dazzled)

    Oh to be a wife, to be wanted, would be so complete! Is it possible, Leonard, after the terrors, the disgusting dangers we have seen?

    LEONARD
    If it isn’t I don’t want to live either.

    (She holds out a hand to him. They clutch hands briefly)

    VIRGINIA
    Sit down, Leonard. You look silly on your knees.

    (She looks away. LEONARD sits)

    VIRGINIA
    I used to make the family laugh. They thought me clever. But when I chased the evil spirits through a hole in the escallonia hedge, I resolved to tell the exact truth and write down the phenomena I’d seen. But no one believed me, and at that moment the laughter turned against me. I said, must not we find some way to get outside ourselves, to give our brains a wider scope? My parents declared God was dead and the world empty and meaningless. Father said to be weak is to be wretched. He said that Society is a ravenous appetite, and Nature is a state of war. You’ve laughed at me behind my back, I know you have. You, my own husband, want to get rid of me, to lock me up forever and steal my money.

    LEONARD
    I love you, Virginia. Maybe it’s a bad thing to love you as much as I do – it cuts me off from the outside world. But the outside world is worthless and your world is so rich. When I went away to school for the first time I was shocked and appalled by the horrifying corruption of dirty-minded schoolboys. It marked me. Then I realized all of humanity are mean, nasty, untruthful, cowardly, and cruel. Perhaps I’ve been searching for a world that doesn’t exist.

    VIRGINIA
    Perhaps we both have.

    LEONARD
    If you will care for your health – if you will allow me to care for your health – you’ll recover. As you’ve recovered before.

    VIRGINIA
    Nessa won’t rest till I’m brought low. When she was ill with typhoid Savage wanted to put her in a home but I backed her up! I told Savage I would care for her. Now look at what she’s done to me. You betrayed our secret, telling Nessa I’m a frigid failure as a wife. She told Clive and now everyone knows. They’re all laughing, jeering. plotting behind my back. You were sent to Ceylon to break the natives and now you’ve been sent to break me. I have been derided, insulted, sacrificed and betrayed, by all of you.

    LEONARD
    Virginia, I am on your side. My eyes were opened in Ceylon. I was an anti-imperialist wallowing in the fleshpots of imperialism. But I changed. Now I support the independence movement with all my heart. All problems can be solved by science and logic, Virginia. It was I who was a failure as a husband. It was my marital duty to arouse you but you seemed so afraid of me. At my wit’s end, I asked your older sister for help.

    VIRGINIA
    Does she offer lessons in humiliation? She knows how better than anyone. Is it my fault that I hate my legs being pried apart? I should never have married you, but I couldn’t bear to remain a spinster. I was struggling at everything, and you seemed so different. You said you liked women. You said you admired women’s minds.

    LEONARD
    It’s true. Women feel more deeply, think more deeply, talk more deeply.

    VIRGINIA
    Yet men demand obedience. You want me to obey you but I never will. You know nothing about me. Did you know that before I tried to die I read a book? Would you like to know which one?

    LEONARD
    Which book did you read?

    VIRGINIA
    It was your book. Your book that I read.

    LEONARD
    My book?

    VIRGINIA
    Your book about me.

    LEONARD
    (a gratified author, in spite of everything)

    You read The Wise Virgins? What did you think?

    VIRGINIA
    So you admit it’s about me!

    LEONARD
    Virginia, please. I’d love to discuss my book with you.

    (She hesitates, turning away her face, then facing him with rage)

    VIRGINIA

    You locked me away so I’d never find out!

    LEONARD
    You were ordered rest cures long before you met me! I don’t believe in guilt or blame. Honestly, I wanted you to read my book as soon as you were well.

    VIRGINIA
    I won’t be stamped and stereotyped. You have publicly lampooned me as a frozen, dowdy, fussy, futile woman.

    LEONARD
    Not true at all. I called you my Aspasia.

    VIRGINIA
    “Cold and snowy, like the rocks.” You said.

    LEONARD
    I’m a bad writer. I agree. I’ve got nothing of your genius. I can never explain what I really want to say. If it’s any comfort to you no one else likes or understands it either. Sales are awful. All I was attempting to do was contrast the world of a poor Jew from Putney with the rarified aristocratic Olympus for which he yearns.

    VIRGINIA
    You hold my world in contempt because you can never be a gentleman.

    LEONARD
    Virginia, you hold “your world” in contempt.

    VIRGINIA
    And then the hero marries the other girl. The stupid, cow-eyed one! It’s a betrayal.

    LEONARD
    It’s just a bad novel, I’ll give you that. Don’t laugh at me. Not everyone is born with your gifts. Consider my perspective. Any rational mind must inevitably face disillusion and depression. I tried to show how poor Harry just couldn’t escape his past. He couldn’t but I think we can. I probably shouldn’t have published it but Arnold was willing and I couldn’t bear to waste all that work and all that suffering.

    VIRGINIA
    What can you, a prizewinning Apostle from Cambridge, an imperialist potentate of a subject country, possibly know of real suffering?

    LEONARD
    Virginia, I’m a Jew from Putney. All my life I’ve been spat upon. Job is the only book of the Bible I ever understood. Who ridiculed who first? I trained myself to avoid personal feeling. Admit you despised me. Your set. You made me into a joke.

    VIRGINIA
    My set despises everyone. That’s what we do. It’s self-defense, from growing up amongst the most monumental hypocrites.

    LEONARD
    You despised me personally. Be honest. You hated kissing me. You could barely bring yourself to marry me.

    VIRGINIA
    But I did it, didn’t I!

    LEONARD
    You wanted to shock them. You were competing with Nessa to see who could be most scandalous.

    VIRGINIA
    I wouldn’t dare compete with Nessa. Competition is a male thing. It’s a brutal, endless game. I think all competition should be abolished.

    LEONARD
    But it’s all you ever do! Your flirtation with her husband –

    VIRGINIA
    (cringes visibly)

    Oh God, not that. Somehow that memory turns a knife in me more than anything. How it catches at me, the fangs of that old pain. I know I lost Vanessa forever. She will never forgive me. I simply couldn’t comprehend why she married such a strange, intolerable creature with his twitching pink skin and a jerky laugh. Before Clive, Nessa and I drifted together on a sea of seducing half-brothers,
    hiding together beneath the dining room table. We spoke a special animal language.

    LEONARD
    But you were no longer children. Vanessa waited till twenty-eight to marry.

    VIRGINIA
    Who would willingly grow up? I never wanted to. As soon as you’re pushed out of the nursery, the happy moments vanish. Vanessa was the bowl of golden water that brims but never overflows. I lie prostrate at her shrine and still she won’t forgive me. When she brought home friends from the Slade they laughed at me behind the door. You can’t think what it feels like, having one’s self so thoroughly extinguished.

    LEONARD
    I do know it. That was my exact experience at both St. Paul’s and Cambridge. St. Paul’s was a disgusting brothel, but at Trinity I met G. E. Moore. He taught me how to ask the important questions.

    VIRGINIA

    And what are the important questions?

    LEONARD
    The most important question is why. Why can’t Vanessa forgive a mere flirtation? She must know by now that Clive sets out to bed every woman he meets. You at least resisted him.

    VIRGINIA
    But I did wrong. Clive and I made common cause against my sister, his own wife. Some things should be sacred.

    LEONARD

    Wasn’t it true that he respected your intellectual work more than he could ever appreciate Vanessa’s daubs?

    VIRGINIA
    Leonard! How can you!

    LEONARD

    If it’s the truth, shouldn’t we say so?

    VIRGINIA

    I tried speaking the truth, yet here I am locked up among the imbeciles. And weren’t we just arguing whether all imbeciles should be killed?

    LEONARD
    You’re hardly “locked up with the imbeciles” at Dalingridge Hall!

    VIRGINIA
    You’re wrong. In this castle beats the very heart of idiocy and evil. Aren’t you the one who said the most dangerous imbeciles are running the nation? Here I am at home among the hunters, where the miner sweats and dies and maiden faith is rudely strumpeted.

    LEONARD
    But you used to love George! He told me you’d make an adorable wife.

    VIRGINIA
    Perhaps I’ve been given too much time to think. Get a sense of proportion, the doctors keep telling me. So now I stare for the first time into the very mouth of doom. Look your last on all things lovely.

    LEONARD
    Virginia, if you don’t want to be called crazy, you really must explain yourself. Whatever do you mean?

    VIRGINIA
    George behaved little better than a brute. He never let me alone for a moment. That he was the pet of duchesses hardly excuses him. And yet it was Gerald who broke my hymen, when I was six years old. It’s a painful process. and now I freeze like ice. Give up on me, Leonard, there’s no awakening the dead. I’m ruined by incest, I’ve even desired my own sister. I’m locked up because I stew in murder, just as Laura did. I long to slice Gerald’s fat, transparent flesh, to take a rifle and shoot George directly in his smug, piggy face. Or could I bag him with a net and killing bottle? And why shouldn’t I turn on my tormentors? I suffered, I was helpless, why should I be the one forced to writhe with shame? I longed to be petted but instead was trapped in a cage with lions as sulky and angry as they were ferocious. I’m just a little monkey and little monkeys are too easily squashed and trampled. It’s too late for me, Leonard. My body is spoiled forever by George and Gerald.

    LEONARD
    (shocked)

    George? Gerald? These are pillars of society, your own half-brothers! It’s so unbelievable.

    VIRGINIA
    George drowned us in kisses, me and Vanessa. Each kiss was an amputation. I used to sign my work, “One of the Drowned.” Oh, those horrible parties! The oppressive gatherings of Stephenses ground one to a pulp. Because I wanted to discuss Plato I was told I had no conversation. George was so angry! After I removed my ball gown and stripped off my gloves and stockings, he would come into my room and lock the door.

    LEONARD
    But how can any of this be true? How could nobody have noticed it?

    VIRGINIA
    Everyone did notice it. People contrive to bend it to the conventional heroic shape because he kept insisting on the purity of his love. I saw him kissing Countess Carnarvon behind a pillar at the opera! And now she’s his mother-in-law. I asked to join the British Sex Society, dedicated to the study of parent/child incest, but they wouldn’t let me in. Now that you know, you’ll have to spit in George’s face at the club.

    LEONARD
    We don’t belong to the same clubs.

    VIRGINIA
    Then when you thank him for this execrable house, challenge him to a duel. Will he at least feel some regret? Will he take the pigeon gun and blast himself instead? Then the aristocracy will hate me because it’s all my fault. Yet is it not a noble work, letting light in upon the evil Duckworths? Probably he’ll feel nothing. Possibly some vague imbalance.

    LEONARD
    Let’s try to be objective, Virginia.

    VIRGINIA
    If only I could! What a luxury that would be! How I hunger for the objectivity of beloved Macaulay or the stern analysis of cherished Carlyle. Lockhart’s ten volume Life of Scott was the best present I ever received. Reading relieves all my pain, but they won’t let me read anything here. In spite of them I’m continuing to learn. Only life itself matters, nothing but life – and the process of discovery, the everlasting perpetual process, and not the thing itself at all.

    LEONARD

    Virginia, I am speechless.

    VIRGINIA

    Now you know how it feels. I used to think it would be enough to have someone share my loneliness. But if no one believes me, the solitude is total. The Duckworths are guilty of nameless atrocities, and you’re complicit. You locked me away here, so I couldn’t speak. As soon as I open my mouth they try to destroy me. It’s a conspiracy of hush.

    LEONARD
    If this is something you’ve only just remembered how can it possibly be true? It sounds mad.

    VIRGINIA
    I don’t think memory is always at the forefront, Leonard. There’s only so much a human being can bear. Memory comes and goes. One requires tools to think with, to make sense of one’s experience, and these tools are alternately dull and sharp.

    LEONARD
    Well, there are some things no one wants to think about.

    VIRGINIA
    It’s clearer in my mind than the bad, stodgy meal I was force-fed yesterday. Our summer place at St. Ives, in the dining room; I must have been six years old. Eighteen-year-old Gerald lifted me up to a high ledge and explored my private parts. I fought and I struggled but I couldn’t get away. I could see his face in the dining room mirror. It was the face of a demon. I’ve seen that face since, on the drooling men who expose themselves in the park. Now I no longer look in mirrors. I can’t cross a puddle. The depth looks back at me, concealing malicious, hairy arms to reach out and grab. I can’t go forward, I am stuck in the loop of the six, no power even to lift my legs.

    LEONARD
    The loop of the six? I don’t understand.

    VIRGINIA

    I was learning numbers. Six was my number. But I couldn’t close the loop.

    LEONARD

    This was Gerald you say? But Gerald is your publisher!

    VIRGINIA
    I know! If I am not a madwoman, then the world itself is mad. What was I to do? I wrote a book and my incestuous brother was a publisher! Who else would even look at my work? When I delivered my manuscript to Gerald I was in such acute despair – so near the precipice!

    LEONARD
    Did you tell anyone?

    VIRGINIA
    I told Nessa and she told Dr. Savage. Who is an idiot, as you well know.

    LEONARD
    I can’t believe it. Gerald seems so – so – well, ordinary. So completely controlled.

    VIRGINIA
    Get out of here! I’m sorry I told you. I wish I was dead!

    (She is tearing at her own throat – he rushes forward to hold her hands down, lifting her body out of the chair)

    The use of force is all you know!

    LEONARD
    Virginia, I love you.

    (He kisses her neck, she becomes a dead weight. He lowers her carefully into the chair, arranges a blanket on her knees)

    VIRGINIA
    When you touch me, I feel nothing. My body goes dead. That’s how I froze when George came into my room, night after night.

    LEONARD
    Oh, Beloved!

    VIRGINIA
    Don’t. He called me that. I don’t want to be loved, I want to be believed.

  • The Dalingridge Horror – a play by Alysse Aallyn

    (Scene 2. The Conservatory at Dalingridge Hall. VIRGINIA sits slackly in an old-fashioned wheeled chair, gazing into nothingness.)

    LEONARD
    How are you today, Virginia? Sleep well?

    VIRGINIA

    (galvanizing)

    How can there be sleep for those of us who see the flesh melted off the world? Have you come to gloat over the shattered splintered fragments of my body? You care nothing for what they do to me! You macerate my soul. With sleep comes horrible dreams. I was trapped in a drainpipe with the savage hairy man who squats, gobbling and belching, dabbling at my entrails. Soon I will be shrouded in snail slime sticky from the hollow stalk.
    Get away from me! I don’t want to see you!

    LEONARD

    (humbly)

    I’ve brought chocolate creams. You used to love those.

    VIRGINIA
    You are a shadow. You torment me with shadows of the people I might have been, all my unborn selves. Go away, Leonard. Your cause is hopeless.

    LEONARD
    No cause is hopeless as long as we can talk.

    VIRGINIA
    I have nothing to say to you. Your kind disgusts me.

    LEONARD
    You can’t realize how utterly you would end my life too if you died or ever dismissed me. Aren’t I still your precious Mongoose? Aren’t you my beloved Mandrill?

    VIRGINIA
    Any real relationship between men and women is unattainable. It’s all nonsense and lies.

    LEONARD
    Weren’t we going to create our own special relationship? A real marriage, unlike everyone else’s, a vital, living thing. That’s what we promised.

    VIRGINIA
    And then you brought me to George’s house, you traitor.

    LEONARD
    Officialdom requires certification following suicide attempts! You’d be a ward in chancery! This is the only way!

    (He seems about to sit down, she stops him)

    VIRGINIA
    If you sit I’ll start screaming and I won’t stop.

    LEONARD
    I’m so afraid of the future, Virginia, if you can’t get strong.

    VIRGINIA
    You want me to tolerate filthy fingers stuck down my throat! That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it?

    LEONARD
    Is eating chocolate creams so terrible?

    (He offers the box)

    VIRGINIA
    Don’t come near me.

    (He sets the box on the little table, kneels)

    LEONARD
    I would grovel to you and kiss your toes if you would only listen to me, Virginia. Aren’t you better now? Aren’t you getting stronger? Look, you’re free and out of your straps. You’re sleeping some and eating a little. Have the hallucinations gone away?

    VIRGINIA
    I’m terrified of sleep. I’m terrified of chloral and the nightmares it provides. When I wake at night and understand all the terror, violence and unreason still presiding over the universe it is worse than death. I am nothing. I am nobody. I am I-less.

    LEONARD
    Didn’t you always say that only writing that brings order to madness? You called art humanity’s one defense.

    VIRGINIA
    Art is a conspiracy among the civilized. Yet how can we call people civilized who insist on enslaving half their populace? Behold myself, empty-handed and force-fed, by your order. I know I have a good mind, but you have surrendered me to the very people bent on destroying it.

    LEONARD
    Civilization is largely humbug, Virginia. That may be the only thing I’ve learned. I always felt I’m playing a part upon a stage. You’re the only honest person I’ve ever met and now you’re at risk. I just want you to get well, Virginia, so we can plan our hundred books.

    VIRGINIA
    You care nothing for my plans! Shall I ever write again one of those sentences that gives me the most intense pleasure? For years now, people jerked wires to make me jump like a jack in the box when all I want is peace. I long to be ten miles beneath the sea. Here I am stuck in polar ice, harassed by barbarians.

    LEONARD
    Your ice drifts toward home.

    VIRGINIA

    I have no home.

    LEONARD

    You will get well and our life will become possible again. As soon as you gain weight and master some calm and some cheer, we are free!

    VIRGINIA
    Calm and cheer in a world like this one! Don’t treat me like some retarded infant. When we walked together at Asheham you inveighed against the world as a stupid, corrupt brothel.

    LEONARD
    And I still believe that. I wanted to go into politics but politics is brutal and discouraging. Now I think I must change the world through workers’ cooperatives. We must stand up against all the evils that we see.

    VIRGINIA
    You said writers are born to be unhappy.

    LEONARD
    I fear to some extent that must be true. It’s harder on you, because you’re a sensitive, poetic writer. But if we swear to support each other –

    VIRGINIA
    My punishment is unending. Mother didn’t approve of school for girls. Boys should go everywhere and know everything, and girls should stay home and know nothing. All my brothers were sent to school, where I must say they did horribly. George and Gerald were incurably stupid and Thoby jumped out a window rather than write his prep. But I learned Greek! I learned Latin! I read every book in Father’s library, all on my own! And here I am, sentenced to Bedlam for it.

    LEONARD
    When you have seen the squalor that I have, you will realize that Dalingridge Hall is no punishment, Virginia.

    VIRGINIA
    It’s a punishment for me. Think of its owners, in their smug pride, rulers of the universe. How can you of all people, abide them? But they seduce even you with their privilege, luxury and glamor. What is the use of the finest education in the world if it teaches people not to hate force but to use it? Why can’t we learn the arts of understanding people’s lives and minds? All that the professions preach is worship of the sacred tree of property.

    LEONARD
    The doctors say you pushed yourself too hard.

    VIRGINIA
    Is that what you really think, that diving deep is dangerous? Go away, Leonard. I can’t bear to hear you lie to me.

  • Queen of Swords – the end of the Tarot play by Alysse Aallyn

    SCENE 7


    (Lights up on Hamptons cottage, as before. WHITNEY assaults the door.)


    WHITNEY
    Charmayne!! Charmayne!!


    (Her stepmother opens the door. Slower, less confident; accusatory)


    CHARMAYNE
    You’ve been avoiding me, Whitney. Why haven’t you returned my calls? I thought we were besties.


    WHITNEY
    I wanted to bring you something.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Haughty, but momentarily excited in spite of herself)


    And what could you possibly give the woman who has everything?


    WHITNEY
    Just this.


    (Tenders a bullet)


    CHARMAYNE
    Ooooo, scary! And what’s this supposed to represent?


    WHITNEY
    It’s a bullet, Charmayne. It matches the bullets in your gun, the bullets all over this beach and the bullets in your stepfather.


    CHARMAYNE
    My stepfather!


    WHITNEY
    Yup. I’ve been to visit his grave.


    CHARMAYNE
    Well, thank you for this –


    (Mockingly, as she throws it out to sea)


    I was never was two-faced as you, Whitney. My stepfather – who’s in hell, as you very well know from the personal, confidential disclosures that I made to you during a Girls Night Out – doesn’t have a grave. Anyway, nobody cares about that old stuff anymore.


    WHITNEY
    There’s no statute of limitations on murder.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Tries to grab her)


    Statute! Limitations! Whit, do you need cash to go to law school?

    WHITNEY
    (Evading her neatly)


    It’s time to answer for what you’ve done.


    (CHARMAYNE walks past her towards the ocean – crossed arms, thinking)


    CHARMAYNE
    Your father wouldn’t want this.


    WHITNEY
    I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for me.


    CHARMAYNE
    This feels so odd. It’s not what I expected, at all. You never fail to surprise me, Whitney. Your enmity is so flattering. I feel… courted.


    (Turns around to face WHITNEY, back in control)


    So you think you know everything about me now?


    WHITNEY
    I know all I need to know. For example, that you’re wondering right now whether it’s worth your while to get rid of me. Whether I have a partner in my researches who knows everything I’m doing. And the answer is yes.


    CHARMAYNE
    I was not wondering how to get rid of you, Whitney! As if! I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried. You’re one of the Immortals.

    WHITNEY
    Am I supposed to know what that is?


    CHARMAYNE
    We Immortals have been here since time immemorial. We recognize each other. We are transformable, but essentially indestructible.


    WHITNEY
    Wow, that’s so comforting. Lucky for us! And now it’s time for my second gift. I’m going to tell your fortune. 



    (Sits at the patio set table and starts shuffling cards)


    CHARMAYNE
    (Approaching nervously, interested in spite of herself)


    You can’t tell my fortune.


    WHITNEY
    I’m the only one who can.


    CHARMAYNE
    But that’s not my deck. So you can’t use it.


    WHITNEY
    No. It’s my deck. You have to play the cards the goddess deals, right? Sit down. First, I’ll tell you your past.


    (Produces a card – Hermit leaps up on the screen. Cards seemingly tremble, shimmer in the air)
    Recognize him?


    (CHARMAYNE sits down)


    CHARMAYNE
    It’s the Hermit.


    WHITNEY
    There he is, with his broom and his light. Don’t you recognize him?


    CHARMAYNE
    That’s a staff.


    WHITNEY
    It’s a broom. It’s holding him up more than he’s holding it up. I saw him. I spoke to him. Mr. Butterbatch.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Sounds delighted)


    Old Butterbatch! Is HE still ticking! I can scarcely believe it – he was a hundred when I knew him.
    How is the old geezer?


    WHITNEY
    Fine and dandy. I must say he remembers you very well, Destiny. He told me all about how the police have been longing to find the source of the female DNA all over the frog gigger they found sticking out of Burt’s throat. You must have cut yourself! Imagine that! Probably just a little nick. How would you even have noticed it, when there was so much blood?


    CHARMAYNE
    Burt was vile, Whitney. Vile. Anyone would have done it. He needed to be put down.


    WHITNEY
    Maybe, Charmayne. Who can judge? O, right, this guy! Justice!


    (Tarot card leaps up to screen and trembles in the air)


    CHARMAYNE
    Justice is female, Whitney. But I have faith in you. You’ll figure it out.


    WHITNEY
    Must be where the phrase “stings like a bitch” comes from. And see that box she’s sitting on? That’s the box they’re going to put you in.


    CHARMAYNE
    No one’s putting me in a box. Never.


    WHITNEY
    Oh, they’re going to put you in a box, Charmayne. They’re going to put you in a series of boxes, like some kind of dangerous Matrushka doll. That’s three separate states you’ve unleashed mayhem in and they’re all going to want a crack at you.
    And who’s this? The Lovers!


    (Tarot card onscreen)


    There’s your girlfriend, Charmayne Carr. You must have known the cards would turn on you someday, Charmayne. Why don’t you just tell her family where you stashed that body? The prosecutor’s going to get it out of you, one way or another. After a few weeks of instant mashed potato mix, egg substitute, baloney and wonderbread you’ll tell them anything they want to know.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Mocking)
    Shows what you know! I wonder if your much-vaunted “classical education” isn’t a pair of distortion goggles after all. Dr Carr’s family rejected her and she never gave a damn for any of them! She was free of all that. And for your information, the Lovers was never was her card. She was the Empress.


    WHITNEY
    You said you weren’t two-faced like me, Charmayne. But you were careful, weren’t you? Did you give her the honor of confronting her the way I’m confronting you now or did wait until her back was turned?


    CHARMAYNE
    She gave me her life! She was longing for me to absorb her! It was her free choice, one I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I was an Immortal! She recognized it and she yielded.


    WHITNEY
    Sure, sure. That’s what always happens. The fish throws himself into the boat to save you from spearing it. Tell yourself anything that lets you sleep at night. Oh, wait, you can’t sleep, can you? It’s starting to show on your face.


    (CHARMAYNE stands up and turns away, touching her face)


    CHARMAYNE
    That was just mean, Whitney. That was uncalled for.


    (WHITNEY produces another Tarot card – it leaps to the screen and shimmers in the air)
    Who’s this? An Emperor with the long white beard! Who can that be, I wonder!


    CHARMAYNE
    (Turned away from the card, forces herself to sit down, put her feet up and make a show of relaxing)


    Let me guess. A certain cardiac surgeon of our acquaintance?


    WHITNEY
    Thoracic.


    CHARMAYNE
    Thoracic surgeon. Now we get within sight of your real problem, Whitney, the real fountain of your rage. Your father was such a charming man, even in extreme old age. The Lady of Life met the Lord of Death: it was just the way he wanted it, it had to happen. He was so touchingly eager to enrich me, to pass along his acquisitions. You’re just jealous because he found a new pupil.


    WHITNEY
    You thanked him by killing him!


    CHARMAYNE
    I did reward him, Whitney. Your father was suffering. He begged me to put him out of his misery. Would you like me to summon him from the grave so you can ask him? You’ll see I’m right! I think from the first moment our eyes met in the job interview he knew I was the only one who could get the job done exactly the way he wanted. He begged me for that extra dose of morphine. Having a body became a torment to him. He could no longer enjoy anything.


    WHITNEY
    As your body will torment you, while you rot away in jail. But at least somebody will get to enjoy it – whatever bullies or “Immortals” you’re lucky – or unlucky enough to run into. They’ll pass you around like a pizza.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Snatches her feet off the table)
    I’m not going to jail, silly Whitney! Not ever! I served my time!


    WHITNEY
    (Pulling herself forcibly together she produces another card – Judgment on screen – hugely vibrating )


    Sorry, Pearleen – or whoever you are this week – childhood doesn’t count. Now here’s a lady you’ve never met. She showed me your stepfather’s grave.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Labored change of tactics)


    I like this new you, Whitney. So forceful, so ablaze.


    (Pretends to shiver)


    It’s so sexy. Pity it’s all wasted, that you’ve been so misled. Judgment is not the card you’ve been looking for all your life.


    (Picks it up and sends it spinning – onscreen card – which she avoids looking at – seems to swell)


    WHITNEY
    But this is the one card we have in common. The lady who tends your stepfather’s grave – saving it for the investigators – she brandished a trumpet and everything. Looks like the goddess has given up on you, Charmayne.


    CHARMAYNE
    Nice try, but my stepfather doesn’t have a grave. He didn’t deserve one.

    WHITNEY
    Yeah, he does, and I took a picture of it. See?


    (Shows her phone)


    The Hidden Glade developers found him when they paved over Dead Lake and they treated him to a nice box of his very own. There he is, just waiting for someone to find a match to those bullets.


    (She pulls a bullet from a chain around her neck)


    This bullet, for example. I chose it from the many bullets you’ve sprayed around this beach. You’ll never find them all.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Crossed arms)
    I never transitioned anyone that didn’t want it or deserve it.


    WHITNEY
    Transition! Now there’s a word! But the law doesn’t respect your private language, you know. They have a language all their own. You killed Charmayne Carr to steal her identity. You killed my father to get rich. You killed the night manager to steal his stash. You killed your stepfather to steal his wheels and run away.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Firing up immediately)


    None of that is true and you of all people –


    WHITNEY
    That’s what they’ll say. I’m just trying to prepare you. That’s what prosecutors always say, based on what they can prove. It’s worst case scenario right at the beginning, Pearleen, so prepare yourself. I’m sure your oh-so-expensive defense attorney will explain to them about your “Immortals” theory. That’ll sound good to the jury. Or maybe he’ll just give up and plead insanity. Possibly you should represent yourself in court – after you’ve had all that plastic surgery you’ve been thinking about.


    CHARMAYNE
    I ‘m not bothering with the law, Whitney. Don’t you see that the law’s a charade? A puppet dance for marionettes? I was greedy for life, Whitney. For ecstasy, for joy. For experiences and possessions, so I took them. I’m not ashamed. I’ve had everything I ever wanted.


    WHITNEY
    Then isn’t it time?


    CHARMAYNE
    For what?


    WHITNEY
    To give up.


    CHARMAYNE
    I’ll never give up!


    WHITNEY
    (Produces a final card)


    Because here’s your future. The Hanged Man. He sees the world upside down. And it’s the last thing he sees.


    (Card onscreen)

    CHARMAYNE
    You’re young, Whitney. Nothing wrong with that! You know nothing about the real world, by which I mean the invisible world that pulses beneath the visible. Your father kept you from it with that “classical education”. You need to take your time figuring out who – and what you really are. I could help you. We could share all this.


    WHITNEY
    No.


    (Throws a card at her – Death appears onscreen)


    Death, Charmayne. That’s your future. Your future is Death.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Upends the table, scattering everything – rises from her chair)


    I can’t die. It won’t happen. Didn’t I explain it to you? Listen, Whitney. We make our own reality. You’re my mirror.


    WHITNEY
    I’m your parabolic mirror, sent to fry you to a crisp.


    CHARMAYNE
    Don’t say it like that. What if I admit you’ve won? Here, take the dagger. Now you’re the new Queen of Swords.


    WHITNEY
    Someone told me never to “settle”.

    CHARMAYNE
    (Kneeling beside her)


    It’s breaking my heart that I can’t explain this to you.


    WHITNEY
    Don’t kid yourself, Destiny. A heart was one of the encumbrances you left behind.


    CHARMAYNE
    Is this what love feels like? I’m not used to wanting things I can’t have.


    WHITNEY
    You just tried to convince me you’re immortal, you’ll never talk me into thinking you’re human!


    CHARMAYNE
    It’s so strange! You feel about me the way I thought about them. Murder kills feeling. And if you can’t feel, you can’t enjoy. If you can’t enjoy, you might as well be dead.


    WHITNEY
    I guess there’s a limit to everything, and you’ve reached yours.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Turns to face the audience)


    Maybe it is my time to find out my next stage. I’ve always wondered who I really am. Your father called me a “living doll,” Burt said I was cold as ice, the Empress named me “the marble-hearted”. My step-dad said I wasn’t a little girl, I was a cockroach like him.


    (Touches WHITNEY)


    Help me.


    WHITNEY
    I’m helping you to see that it’s the end. You’ve had a good run, but it’s over.


    CHARMAYNE
    You don’t even know what you’re rejecting! Let me show you what you’re missing –


    (Tries to embrace WHITNEY who pushes her away)


    WHITNEY
    (Roughly)


    You’re not my type.


    CHARMAYNE
    Isn’t there anything I can give you to change your mind? Think, Whitney. Aren’t I the only person in the universe who really understands you? Sees you for what you are?


    WHITNEY
    Actually, you aren’t. But there is something you can give me.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Such relief)


    What? Anything! Name it.


    WHITNEY
    I want you to prove your immortality.


    (Points out to the audience)


    Swim out there. Keep swimming. And don’t come back.


    CHARMAYNE
    Are you sure that’s what you really want?


    WHITNEY
    (Gesturing)


    Challenge your Goddess to a swimming match. Be my guest. Bye-bye.


    CHARMAYNE
    A swim? That’s all you want? When I am willing to share everything? All the secrets?


    WHITNEY
    A swim to eternity. That’s all that I want.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Brittle laugh)


    You can see me naked any time, Whitney. No need to go through all this.


    WHITNEY
    Just swim. I don’t care how.


    CHARMAYNE
    But it’s freezing!


    WHITNEY
    You swim here every night.

    CHARMAYNE
    But the weather’s changed. It’s gone dark and cold. Still, they say beyond the water lies a place where all waters part. I could re-invent myself.


    (Looking out)


    So once again I’m the initiate, am I? It’s funny how things come around.


    (Comes closer peering way, way out beyond the audience’s eyes.)


    I wonder what’s out there. A little tequila before I go? For old time’s sake?


    WHITNEY
    You’ve had all the tequila. Go.


    (WHITNEY’S implacable so CHARMAYNE starts undressing.)


    CHARMAYNE
    Look at my beautiful body, Whit. Won’t it be a shame to waste it?


    WHITNEY
    Stop begging and save your strength.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Insulted)


    Begging? Is that what you think I’m doing?


    (To herself)


    The Empress told me that to find your dominant was heaven. I see it now. You’re the goddess who can never be denied.


    (Bows at her feet – WHITNEY steps away in agitation)


    WHITNEY
    Stuff it. Soft soap won’t work on me. I’ve never had it and I don’t want it. Your goddess is out there. Go find her.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Kicking her clothes away)


    This is all so different from what I imagined. I’m so different. It’s the ultimate surprise.


    WHITNEY
    You may have more surprises waiting just around the corner.


    CHARMAYNE
    I can feel myself getting younger. Like a child, begging for that one last story before lights out! Who knew after all this time that sacrifice – that giving up my strength would prove to be the missing fountain of youth! Will the Goddess reveal herself to me unveiled? Whose face will she wear, I wonder?


    (Shivers)


    WHITNEY
    You knew this was coming! You had to know!


    CHARMAYNE
    I thought if my past ever caught up to me I’d…be destroyed. Disemboweled like the Hanging Man. Poison. The asp. Who knew it would feel so sweet? Relief.


    WHITNEY
    (Somewhat shaken)


    More cons.


    CHARMAYNE
    What relief to concentrate on the physical challenge ahead. Oh, the blessing of the physical!


    (Steps into the “water”, clutching her arms.)


    There was always another freedom, right around the corner. What new thing comes next? Freedom’s the lover I pursued all my life, and still she evades me. There’s always a greater freedom… somewhere.


    (Steps down into the audience. Swimming)


    Suddenly I feel so shy. It’s like being thirteen again. If my stepfather had never existed, who would I have become?


    WHITNEY
    (Coming down to the water to watch)


    Maybe you’ll find out.


    CHARMAYNE
    The Empress recommended surrender. She said it felt so good! They all told me…or tried to tell me. Who could predict that Death would come to me as a beautiful young woman?


    (Breaststroke)


    Is this right? Am I doing it right?


    (WHITNEY gestures “farther out”. CHARMAYNE blows her a kiss.)


    Goodbye, my nemesis.


    (Faces outwards.)


    Hello, Virginity!


    (Swims away through the audience. Exit.)


    (WHITNEY drops her “Judgment” pose, leaps to her feet, paces up and down the beach, peering out to sea. Increasingly anxious. Enter EIGHT to stand behind her and put his arms around her. She shakes him loose. Pacing.)


    EIGHT
    Is she gone?


    WHITNEY

    I’ll never know!
    I thought it was all an act! I never thought it would work! She can’t be gone if I don’t feel she’s gone, can she? I’m so scared she injected herself inside me, like a brainworm!
    Am I a murderer now, too?


    (Calls loudly)


    Wait, wait! I’ve changed my mind! Come back! Let’s talk!


    (EIGHT tries to calm her, she collapses into bitter weeping.)


    EIGHT
    You’re acting like you lost your best friend. Don’t forget she was your bitterest enemy. She was the world’s enemy.


    WHITNEY
    You confused her with your demon, but she was my demon.


    (Shaking her head)


    No, no. It was over too fast. What did I say? I blurted out a bunch of lies, just like she did. I had to turn myself into her in order to catch her! What if I can’t change back? I did everything wrong.


    EIGHT
    (Hugs her)


    Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re decompressing. You were in an impossible situation. It worked! You did everything right.


    WHITNEY
    But I miss her. Now I have nothing. No offense, but now I have nobody.


    EIGHT
    No offense taken. You’re just feeling the emptiness where the anger used to be. Let it melt away. Of course it’s going to hurt. There’s a whole wide world out there and it needs you. The universe is full of treasure.


    WHITNEY
    Didn’t I tell you I hate it when you talk about treasure?


    EIGHT
    No. Sorry. Maybe I need a new expression.


    WHITNEY
    I need a lot of new expressions. New words. I need a whole new language.


    EIGHT
    It’s out there, Whitney. When you can’t manage forgiveness, just let go.

    WHITNEY
    That’s what she said! It’s myself I can’t forgive.


    EIGHT
    It takes awhile. You’ll figure it out. It’s like being born all over again. I have faith in you.


    WHITNEY
    She said that too!


    EIGHT
    She doesn’t own ideas, Whitney. She doesn’t own emotions, or the past, or even the future. She used those things as camouflage for her greed. For her appetites. Come. Walk with me.


    WHITNEY
    No. No. I can’t leave. She might come back. You’re just trying to re-make me in your image.


    EIGHT
    Absolutely not. The thing I like most about you is, you’re not me. Take your time, Whitney. This is your chance to be you. You’re telling your own fortune, now.


    WHITNEY
    (Looking out over the ocean)


    If I’m telling my own fortune I might as well give myself a really good one. Do you think she’s really gone?


    EIGHT
    She’s less than nothing now. Hold my hand.


    (Touching her)


    You’re cold. Don’t you want to go inside?


    WHITNEY
    No. I have to stay right here. For awhile.


    (Sits down.)


    In case she comes back. She might come back. Will you wait with me? At least till dark? Or till I get used to missing her? There were so many things I forgot to say.


    EIGHT
    Rehearse them. Tell them all to me. I’m here.


    (Sits beside her, they clutch hands, staring out into the audience. Lights out)


    END

  • Queen of Swords – the Tarot play by Alysse Aallyn

    (On the beach. Door in the house opens and CHARMAYNE, wearing only a filmy cover-up over her bikini, steps out exultantly to spread her arms to the moon)


    CHARMAYNE
    Moon, Mother-Sister-Goddess, whose tears fertilize the world, I seek permission to penetrate your veil.

    WHITNEY
    (Awkwardly standing)
    Er – Char –


    CHARMAYNE
    Oh, my God, Whitney! You scared the life out of me. What are you doing here?


    WHITNEY
    Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Insulted)


    I’m surprised, that’s all. You’re never here this late. Should I be flattered? What have you got there?


    (WHITNEY proffers the bottle.)


    WHITNEY
    I was trying to get up the nerve to speak to you.


    CHARMAYNE
    Tequila?


    (Laughs.)


    WHITNEY
    It’s my drink. Want some?

    CHARMAYNE
    Why couldn’t you just come to the door?


    WHITNEY
    You were…with someone.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Burbling laughter)


    Ramon’s gone, you must have heard the television! Don’t be jealous of the television. You’re adorable! Give me some of that.


    (Seats herself comfortably and takes the bottle)


    WHITNEY
    Sorry I don’t have any cups.


    CHARMAYNE
    Oh. Whitney, I’m the Queen of Cups, didn’t you know?


    (Laughs and drinks)


    Queen of bottles, too. So what did you want to talk to me about?


    WHITNEY
    I wanted to ask your advice on something.


    (Making it up on the spur of the moment)


    I’ve got a problem at college, and you know all about men. My advisor is…handsy.

    CHARMAYNE
    Handsy! There’s an expression I haven’t heard for awhile.


    WHITNEY
    (Inspired)
    He’s a real – Casper the Grasper. He always pretends it’s a joke or a mistake. I don’t know what to do. He’s the head of the department. If I complain –


    CHARMAYNE
    Never complain, Whit. Never settle. We’re better than that. You need to get even. Trust me, that’s where all the real satisfaction is.


    (Takes another swig – offers it to WHITNEY who pretends to drink)


    This is so much fun! I was yearning for a Girls Night Out!


    (Puts her arm through WHITNEY’S)


    This may amaze you, but I get lonely too. It’s a well-kept secret life can be lonely at the top. Finding my equal just gets harder and harder.


    WHITNEY
    There’s Ramon –


    CHARMAYNE
    Oh, please! Ramon’s just an employee and he knows it. Men! Even well-trained men are…a limited indulgence. And there’s one thing they can’t ever get right.


    (Smacks WHITNEY’S thigh as she cuddles up to her)


    This part.


    (EIGHT looks over the boulder. WHITNEY seems emboldened by his presence)


    WHITNEY
    So have you ever done it? Gotten even?


    CHARMAYNE
    (Bragging)


    I always get even. Nobody messes with me twice.


    (Swig. She’s not even sharing the bottle anymore)


    WHITNEY
    (Settling down for a story)


    Tell me about it.


    CHARMAYNE
    You’ll have to take off your clothes first.


    (Uncomfortable moment. WHITNEY pulls away.)


    Did you think offering me a drink would be enough to get me to unburden?


    WHITNEY
    What are you talking about?


    CHARMAYNE
    I need to know you’re not recording me, silly girl. I’ve been blackmailed by pros. What happens on Girls Night Out stays on Girls Night Out. Hos before bros. Come on. Hurry it up. Look at me, I’m not wearing anything.

    WHITNEY
    (Peels down to her underwear)


    Believe me, I’m not “recording” anything.


    CHARMAYNE
    That’s what they all say. Knowledge backfires in the hands of the novice. Turn around. Let me look. Phone turned off?


    (She runs her hand thru bra & panties)


    You know what? I believe you. You couldn’t lie to save your soul. And you’re the most awful blusher, has anybody ever told you that? You blush with your whole body!


    WHITNEY
    (Blushing)


    I’m aware.


    CHARMAYNE
    Lucky for you. People automatically trust blushers because blushing’s involuntary.


    WHITNEY
    People trust me because they know I care about the truth.


    CHARMAYNE
    Oh, bullshit! The truth! The Sacred Truth! There’s no such thing! There’s what happened and there’s what we think happened – who can tell the difference? OK, sit down. Take a load off. Have a drink to loosen you up.


    (WHITNEY pretends to drink)


    You’ve got a good body, you know that? Nice and hard. Lovely tone. You’re lacking a waist, that’s all. You inherited your father’s physique as well as his brains. It’s all about pluses and minuses. You have to work against the minuses. Men are prejudiced against waistless girls because their hard wiring makes them suckers for a certain waist to hip proportion. Did you know that? But we don’t care about them, do we? Who needs them? Prisoners of their reflexes! Born to mate! Man proposes, the goddess disposes!


    WHITNEY
    Charmayne, you turn every conversation into a Whitney – critiqueathon. Why’s that?


    CHARMAYNE
    Because you interest me, little Whit. You interest me extremely. You’re smart. The way your father was … at first.


    WHITNEY
    (Refusing to be drawn. Grits her teeth to get through this.)


    Please don’t talk about him. And don’t tell me to make myself gorgeous for Casper the Grasper.


    CHARMAYNE
    Listen, if you were gorgeous he wouldn’t have the nerve to touch you.


    WHITNEY
    I think the beautiful get harassed, too.


    CHARMAYNE
    But they have more options. They can –


    WHITNEY
    I want to hear about you. Tell me about that time that you got even.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Very expansive)


    There are so many! But let’s start at the beginning. Here’s something you didn’t know about me. I had a stepfather. You may complain about me, but the problem with you, Whit, is that you always take your good luck for granted. I never take anything for granted. I’m a day at the beach compared to that guy. Talk about “handsy”!


    WHITNEY
    (Pretending to drink, then surrendering the bottle)


    So what was he like?


    CHARMAYNE
    What was he like? He was a monster, that’s what he was like. He was Death, the Hanged Man, the Tower. He thought he was the God of Wrath, that asshole. He was only a king of Destruction.


    (Swigs from the bottle)


    Destruction is easy. It’s creation that’s hard. It’s creating that takes it out of you. Every time I look in the mirror and recreate myself, I am spitting on his grave. He acted so convinced that I’d end up nothing, just like him. All he ever gave me was a spiral fracture of the arm.


    WHITNEY
    (Shocked and appalled)


    Why’d your Mom marry him?

    CHARMAYNE
    She couldn’t believe he wanted to marry her! She’d never been married – God knows who my real father was. She thought if any vaguely presentable guy – even some unemployed wastrel on disability – proposes to you, you HAVE to say yes. She met him at the diner where she cooked.
    Oh, yeah, my Mom worked. And worked and worked. Two shifts a day. My step-dad was supposed to take care of me. She thought she’d hit the lottery to win some guy with a disability check and nothing but time on his hands to look after me for free. He used every second ratcheting up my misery. I couldn’t stay at school every minute, but you better believe I wanted to. I knew I had to go home to him eventually. But the joke was on him. He thought he was so smart but he sure underestimated me.


    (She’s lost, now, talking to the audience)


    What a scrawny, worthless loser! He knew the entire universe despised him so he thought he’d get himself a slave. Someone he could push around. I was eleven when he told me it was his duty to teach me about sex. He said that was what stepfathers were for.


    WHITNEY
    But your Mom –


    CHARMAYNE
    (Angrily)


    Oh, my Mom knew perfectly well what was going on! It meant she didn’t have to cope with him!


    (Returns attention to courting the audience, cultivating her reverie. WHITNEY muffles up to ease the flow)


    Mom’s cooperation (I should say her silence, because she was way too fat to “cooperate”) could be bought with a carton of snack cakes.


    My step-dad pretended I was ugly; that he could barely bring himself to touch me. He expected me to worship him. But he must have known that the moment I grew up I’d try to get away. Maybe he thought he could keep me forever, like a hostage. Once, when my girlfriends and I streaked our hair for a sleepover, he acted as if I had set the house on fire. Luckily it was the kind that washes out; otherwise I think he really would have shaved my head.


    I remember exactly how scared I felt the first time I decided to ignore my stepfather’s dictates about how I should look and dress. My first day of high school I knew I couldn’t go in there looking like some Amish refugee. I had to step up my game. It was terror, rank terror, the kind that makes you wet yourself; but you know what enemies forget? That fear is the rocket fuel of rebellion. Remember that, Whitney. You’ll never experience an emotion like that; you’ve been too sheltered. My stepfather’s own possessive rage became the engine of his death.


    I try not to think about him too often because my energy is the only thing that gives him life, but you know, I’m glad to share this with you. Open it up, get it out of my head. The memories are still there, perfect and crystal clear. Nothing that happened in all those years since packs that kind of punch. I was just beginning to realize that my stepfather couldn’t actually read my mind, had no eyes in the back of his head, could not see through walls, did not have spies everywhere, was not connected to the Mafia or the CIA. It was him or me. How could I destroy him?


    That year Saturn and Mars were equally fiery, it was dry and there was a comet. Perfect for revolution. He was weakening and I was strengthening. Your father taught you that in chess queens rule: my step-dad was too stupid to know it. So our battles escalated. I was getting as tall as he was; he must have figured his fists and penis were no longer sufficient to control me. One day he produced a gun. His idea was that we would have a threesome, little me, paralyzed with fear, and Superman with his two dicks. My idea was different.


    He knew I was afraid of the cellar. He used to lock me down there for punishment when I was little. As a child, I thought it was the mouth of hell; a dirt hole stinking like a sewer clawed out beneath the bowels of the house. When he pushed me down there I never even passed the top step but just clung to the doorknob, eye pressed to the light crack, wailing for release.


    (A slug of fast-vanishing booze. Turns her attention back to WHITNEY)


    Will is a muscle, Whit; you can train it just the way you train the body. I had transcended so many fears already; why couldn’t I outgrow this one? What is the fear of confrontation, really, but the fear of change? What is the fear of being caught but the fear of ultimate failure, of not being powerful enough? Poisoning him didn’t work – I tried that – hoping to make his death look accidental; so, what if he simply disappeared? Nobody except his bar buddies would even notice he was gone. And they were way too fuzzyheaded to stage any meaningful hunt. Mom could just keep cashing his checks. Who would know? And she owed me. He’d overstayed his welcome on this planet; neither of us needed a babysitter any more. If weapons are engines of confrontation, Whitney, both of us could use them.


    That was when I fell in love with power, Whitney. I had to, and you can too, or you’ll never get anywhere. Let me be your teacher.


    (Strokes WHITNEY’s hair, uses finger for a gun)


    Pop, pop, pop, and “pop” is gone. I knew how to cock the pistol; I knew how to release the safety because I’d seen him do it countless times. If the cellar was dirty and stinky, and no one ever went down there, why couldn’t I bury him where nobody would ever look?


    So, while he was out buying smokes I fired up my nerve and took a flashlight down to check it out. That wooden staircase rocked like it was going to collapse, but I told myself it had only to hold me two more times. There were bugs, just as I feared; centipedes and worms, but now I saw them as my friends. Let them eat the bastard up; if only they’d chew his bones as well. The walls were caving in; hunks of unhewn stone overpowered by tree roots. Then I saw my blessing. A wooden well cover. I knew the time was now.


    I recalled the furor when the county forced us on to public water. My step-dad raged that fluoridation was a commie plot. And all that time the old well was down there. Water in the bottom reflected my flashlight as I leaned over. It was even set flush with the floor; what could be easier? I practiced moving the wooden cover; no problemo. The only difficulty now was to get him down here with the gun.


    So I told him I heard rats; I knew he longed for targets; especially in front of me. When I said they were scratching at the door, he was ready to go.


    But he liked being a man of surprises, fancying he was in control. He made me go down first, carrying the flashlight and a garbage bag. That meant I couldn’t tackle him from behind the way I’d planned. It cut down on my time for action, because as I think I said before, the place was just a tiny hole. He would see I was a liar.


    But if he had surprises, I had ideas. The garbage bag gave me a good one.
    I had a friend who earnestly believed violence engenders hauntings, but she didn’t see her own death coming. But if what she said is true, that cellar’s haunted forever by me in a red sweater, red kilt and plaid tights; and my step-dad wearing a garbage bag over his head while we struggled for the gun. I had to drop the flashlight; it shot a crazy, useless stream of light across the floor; we were in darkness.


    He was wiry and desperate and amazingly strong, but I had the gun two-handed and I would not have let it go if the world around me exploded into flames. I discovered in that moment the secret of power, Whit, if you want something with your whole being, if you have not one cell of doubt, you are invincible. I had to kick his crotch to loosen up his grip, but the gun came to me pre-cocked. What an idiot! I shot him right through the bag. That gun kicked like a rattlesnake. I shot him again and again and again, and one of the bullets somehow came back to graze me in the face. Doesn’t bother me. This chip along my cheekbone – see? I wear it as a badge of honor.

    (Demonstrates to WHITNEY)

    I still have that gun. I can show you if you want to see it.

    (She’s slurring her words now. Shakes the empty bottle.)

    There’s another one that fell before The Queen of Swords! Think we should put a message in this thing? What would we say?

    (Pulls arm back to throw bottle into the audience, sits down hard)

    WHITNEY
    So you’re telling me to shoot my way out?


    (CHARMAYNE laughs. shakes & holds her head)


    CHARMAYNE
    Oh, Whitney, you’re always so literal! Your father hoped you’d be a lawyer. Wow, am I drunk. Guess I should have eaten dinner, but who wants to eat alone? Don’t be so silly, Whit. You can’t dip your hand in the same river twice. Your guy’s got weaknesses is all I’m saying. Search – searching –


    (Seems like she’s losing track of her thoughts)


    You’ve got to search them out. I can’t do everything for you. Learn to defend yourself. No one helps anyone else and the sooner you find that out, the better off you’ll be.


    (Throws herself on her back)


    Look at those stars, Whit. So many stars. Every star’s a lost soul, struggling for a piece of sun. Did you know I can’t sleep, Whit? I haven’t slept in days. But, I think I can sleep now. There’s something so safe, so reassuring about you.


    (Loud snoring. EIGHT and WHITNEY stand over her looking down)


    WHITNEY
    Should we move her?


    EIGHT
    Don’t disturb her. Jeez, when she goes down, she goes down hard.


    (CHARMAYNE reaches up scrabbling at the air.)


    CHARMAYNE
    I hear you! What did you say?


    (Burps)


    This has been so fun. Look out, there’s two of you!


    (Rolls over, cuddles up in WHITNEY’s clothes. WHITNEY tries to cover herself – EIGHT lends her his Hawaiian shirt)


    WHITNEY
    I don’t – thanks.


    EIGHT
    Hey, it’s a beautiful night.


    WHITNEY
    Well, they say confession is good for the soul. But you have to have a soul.


    EIGHT
    I’m sure she’s got something left way down deep in there. But it’s probably a poor, stubby, underfed little thing. You take off, I’ll watch over her.


    (Meaningfully to WHITNEY)


    Don’t you have someplace important to be?


    (Lights out.)

  • Queen of Swords – the Tarot play by Alysse Aallyn

    SCENE 4


    (Lights up on Strip club., “Guilty Pleasures”. Pole, stage, café table with chairs on top. MR BUTTERBATCH wearing apron is sweeping floor. Enter WHITNEY with wheeled suitcase)


    WHITNEY
    Didn’t this club used to be The Gentleman’s Secret?

    BUTTERBATCH
    Long, long ago. Are you the new dancer?


    WHITNEY
    Not hardly.


    BUTTERBATCH
    Well, that’s lucky.


    (Shakes his head.)


    WHITNEY
    I’m looking for the owner.


    BUTTERBATCH
    Oh, the owners never come in. Day manager arrives after eleven.


    WHITNEY
    Maybe you can help me. Were you here sixteen years ago?


    BUTTERBATCH
    Lady, I’ve been here since the beginning of time. Butterbatch is the name. Butter by name and bachelor by nature.


    WHITNEY
    You’re just who I’m looking for…if your memory is any good.


    (Takes down a chair and sits exhaustedly)

    BUTTERBATCH
    My memory is fantastic. It’s pretty much all I’ve got these days. What is it that you want to know exactly? Are you implying I’m too old to know anything because I said you were too fat to be a dancer?


    WHITNEY
    Did you say that?


    BUTTERBATCH
    No. I’m polite. So maybe you shouldn’t go casting aspersions.


    WHITNEY
    Honestly I wasn’t casting aspersions. I’m too tired to cast aspersions. I’ve been up all night, flying standby.


    BUTTERBATCH
    (Vigorously sweeping)


    Traveling steerage, were you? Well, that was dumb. That one’s on you.


    WHITNEY
    Let’s start over. I’m investigating a murder.


    BUTTERBATCH
    We’ve got two. Bar fight 96 or stage manager 99?


    WHITNEY
    (Eyes popping)


    Stage manager 1999! Wow! You get right to it.


    BUTTERBATCH
    See? You’ve come to the right place. I know everything. We oldsters are the guardians of the past. Not that anyone cares these days. Crime shows don’t like unsolved crimes. Can’t get the media interested. What’s the “spin” is all they want to know. I can answer any question you’ve got but first, I’ve got a little question of my own.


    (Getting comfortable leaning on his broom)


    What’s it to you?


    WHITNEY
    I don’t understand.


    BUTTERBATCH
    Of course you don’t understand, that’s what I’m here for. I’m gonna explicate. But first you’ve got to riddle me this; Why ya wanna know?


    WHITNEY
    Oh. Well, I think I know who might have killed that guy.


    BUTTERBATCH
    Really? Cold case like that? Why ain’t you talkin’ to the police?


    WHITNEY
    Because I need to talk to you first.


    (Shows her phone)


    Recognize this woman?

    BUTTERBATCH
    I’m not sure. She wasn’t a waitress, I can tell you that, and she wasn’t a patron any night I was here. But those dancers – they change. Wigs, makeup. Costumes. They transform themselves. Professional chameleons.


    WHITNEY
    Her name was Pearleen Purdy.


    BUTTERBATCH
    Oh, Pearleen! Of course I remember her. Destiny! She barely used the pole! She worked the edge of the stage. Everyone remembers her. I’ve got guys that still ask about her. Poor Lester Westerhaven ain’t never got over her.


    WHITNEY
    Destiny?


    BUTTERBATCH
    That was her stage name. On account of the palm reading. Yup, she had quite a following. Now I always thought she was kind of scary.


    WHITNEY
    You did? Why?


    BUTTERBATCH
    She had these terrible eyes. She looked at people like she was trying to figure out how much space they took up and whether she could relieve them of it. Gave me the heebie-jeebies. You think Pearleen killed Burt?

    WHITNEY
    Tell me more about these “heebie-jeebies”.


    BUTTERBATCH
    You know how when women, like, go for things they want, they go all roundabout? Making nice? Playing coy? She wasn’t like that at all! She told you what she wanted right up front! The audience never saw that part. But when she was looking at everybody, it was like she was looking at nobody. I always felt like this was her world and the rest of us were just passing through.


    WHITNEY
    So what did she want?


    BUTTERBATCH
    Well, not me, I can tell you that much. And not Burt either, though he was pretty handsy. Casper the Grasper the girls called him. She was dating a couple of customers, I seem to remember. Rich guys. Married guys. She blew through Lester’s little stash like he was standing still.


    WHITNEY
    (Reads her phone)


    Says here Burt was found dead at nine AM June 16.


    BUTTERBATCH
    By yours truly! You never saw such blood! Handcuffed to his chair; throat slit with a frog-gigger. Nasty little knife. Right here in the office. Blood everywhere!


    (Shivers)

    WHITNEY
    A frog-gigger?


    BUTTERBATCH
    I’m still not over it. But you know I just don’t see how a little thing like Pearleen could manhandle a fellow that size! Burt was 250 pounds of hard blubber! Even handcuffed to a chair…


    WHITNEY
    How about surprise? I mean, what if she just came up behind him? Say he was blindfolded.


    BUTTERBATCH
    That would work. Now you’re talking. And he could have been high. He liked to be high when he thought he was gonna get some.


    WHITNEY
    So what happened to Pearleen? Where was she at the time of the murder? Or after it?


    BUTTERBATCH
    Who knows! You kidding me? Them dancers scattered like cockroaches in the sunlight! Half of ‘em were undocumented and the rest were violating parole. Everybody’s wanted for something or other.


    WHITNEY
    But who had a motive?

    BUTTERBATCH
    Everyone had a motive with Burt! Yours truly excepted, natch. Burt was the drug connection. The police pounced right on the drug angle because his stash was missing. Nobody wanted to be connected to that. Nobody even went to the poor guy’s funeral. It was just me and the owners. This place closed down entirely for a couple of weeks. We had to reopen under a new name, new dancers, everything.


    WHITNEY
    Anything else you can tell me about Pearleen?


    BUTTERBATCH
    Oh, she was a fortuneteller. She’d look deep in your eyes – right through to the back of your head – pretending to read your palm. Oh, my God! Gives me the shiverbumps now.


    WHITNEY
    She never told your fortune?


    BUTTERBATCH
    (Shudders)
    Heck no. I stay away from that stuff. Feels like they’re trying to put a mark on you. Somebody gives you a fortune, it might come true. I like to keep the future unexpected. Keeps life interesting. I wasn’t expecting you, see? Keeps me alert. And I’m still here, aren’t I?


    WHITNEY
    This is just what I needed. Thanks for all your help.

    BUTTERBATCH
    (Calling after her)


    Off to the police? Planning to star on one of them crime shows?


    WHITNEY
    Why not?


    BUTTERBATCH
    Don’t waste your breath. They “lost” all the evidence. It’s just another grassy knoll!


    (Punctuates with finger commas.)


    Lost the evidence! That’s what I’m telling you. Thing they said was, “We don’t have the room to store all that stuff.”


    WHITNEY
    Who said that?


    BUTTERBATCH
    Cold case guy. I called him up because Burt’s dealer turned up dead in a mobile home out on Rt. 80. You’re not the only one wants to star in a crime show. I said should they take DNA for Burt’s case and they told me –


    WHITNEY
    Evidence destroyed. Just my luck.


    (Wheels suitcase away, staggering.)


    BUTTERBATCH
    Don’t take it so hard. What comes around goes around. I always say.


    WHITNEY
    And that helps how?


    BUTTERBATCH
    Nobody gets away with nothing, not in my experience. Say, you’re sure you don’t want to audition? Talking to you now, I see a glimmer of light beneath that bushel of yours. Could be hidden talent. Let ‘er out and let ‘er rip. Tips here are very good.


    WHITNEY
    Thanks but no thanks.


    (Dragging away depressed. Lights out. )

  • Queen of Swords – the Tarot play by Alysse Aallyn

    (Behind WHITNEY’S back appears an old man dressed for fishing. He carries a tackle box and two fishing rods.)


    WHITNEY
    (Shouting after EIGHT)
    Some “master of the elements” you are. Scared of a little chill!


    DR. QUANTREAU
    Whitney? Ready to go fishing? The bluefish are running.


    WHITNEY
    (Overcome)


    Dad! Dad! Oh, my God! Dad!


    DR. QUANTREAU
    Don’t touch me. I’m covered with hooks.


    (He casts a line)


    WHITNEY
    (Confused)


    Dad, you can’t catch bluefish from here!


    DR. QUANTREAU
    Whitney, you’re forgetting that I’m dead. I can do anything I want.

    WHITNEY
    (Collapsing emotionally)


    Dad, you’ve left everything in a mess!


    DR. QUANTREAU
    I don’t think so. You seem fine to me.


    WHITNEY
    Dad, Charmayne is some kind of monster! She kills people who get in her way! She probably killed you!


    DR. QUANTREAU
    What does that matter now? It was my time to go.


    (Casting, moving up the beach.)


    WHITNEY
    This is NOT the way I imagined it.


    DR. QUANTREAU
    Nothing ever is.


    WHITNEY
    Let me put it this way, Dad. You married a lying, greedy, murderous stripper!


    DR. QUANTREAU
    Not bad for a deteriorating old geezer, huh?


    (WHITNEY is gob smacked. Watches him silently for a while.)


    WHITNEY
    (Mustering all her energy)


    Well, I’m not letting her get away with it.


    DR. QUANTREAU
    Forget it, Whitney. Allow an old man to have his fun. I made plenty of money for everybody. Let it go.


    WHITNEY
    Dad! She made you beg for water! I saw it!


    DR. QUANTREAU
    Adults play games, Whitney. Conflict makes life interesting; keeps the fish fresh. I guess you wouldn’t understand. You were always so serious.


    WHITNEY
    You made me serious! You wanted me serious! You said life was serious.


    DR QUANTREAU
    (Reflects)


    Besides, I probably deserved it. Ever heard that expression “what goes around comes around?” I made your mother beg for money. We all did it. I regret it now.


    (Shrugs)


    You should have seen the faces on the other guys when I brought Charmayne to the club!


    (Cackles gleefully)


    Were they jealous! Didn’t know I had it in me!


    (Wandering away into the “water” – into the audience)


    WHITNEY
    (Calling after him despondently)


    Dad, don’t go! Let’s talk about…things. We never talked about real things. We only talked about…history. Why Alexander the Great didn’t need armies as big as the people he attacked.


    DR. QUANTREAU
    Honey, I don’t have to worry about “things” any more. Or Alexander the Great. You could come fishing with me. I love fishing. I get to fish all the time.


    WHITNEY
    (With a passion)


    I see now I’ve always hated fishing. It’s the most boring activity on the planet.


    DR. QUANTREAU
    I like it. It relaxes me. It’s just a game, Whit. Our games define us. Elevate your game, Whit.


    WHITNEY
    You against some nine pound fish! Like that’s fair!


    DR. QUANTREAU
    Honey, no one cares about fairness. Fairness is impossible. Expertise, that’s the thing. Self-improvement. Mastering whatever it is you set out to do.


    (Casts)

    WHITNEY
    But you keep leaving me, again and again, over and over! Don’t you still love me?


    DR. QUANTREAU
    Of course I love you, Whitney. And Darby and McKenzie and Charmayne and your mother – what was her name? Doris. I loved Doris and before her I loved Edna. But the fish are running! See them go? If the fish are running, I’ve got to follow! Goodbye, Whitney! Be a good girl.


    (Exit.)


    WHITNEY
    (Shouting after him)


    You’re just a figment of my adolescent imagination!


    (Bursts into tears sobbing her heart out.)


    I refuse to take advice from ghosts.


    (Dries her tears, sighs, takes out her phone)


    Unsolved murders in Branson, Missouri…what was it? Fourteen years ago?

  • Queen of Swords – the Tarot play by Alysse Aallyn


    (Evening. Lights up on the Hampton house. )


    WHITNEY
    (Banging)


    Charmayne!! Charmayne!!


    CHARMAYNE
    (Appearing at the door – seemingly annoyed)


    Whitney, you really do have to make an appointment. I don’t have time to play with you today.


    WHITNEY
    Oh, I think you’ll see me – Pearleen.


    CHARMAYNE
    (Steps outside, closes door carefully)


    Oh? Are your efforts to master the black arts finally paying off?


    WHITNEY
    There’s no “black ops” about it. I’ve been investigating you.


    CHARMAYNE
    Moi? Little me? How flattering. I love being the center of attention. I revel in your…involvement.


    (Making it sound sexual. Crosses her arms defensively, but says boldly)


    It’s not illegal to change your name, you know. Some names are very common. You can call yourself anything you want. And some of us were saddled by our thoughtless parents with disabling monikers we couldn’t wait to get rid of.


    WHITNEY
    But you are pretending to be someone else!


    CHARMAYNE
    Prove it.


    WHITNEY
    You’re wearing her necklace!


    CHARMAYNE
    She gave it to me. Among many other gifts. I thought I explained all that to you.


    WHITNEY
    And now no one can find her!


    CHARMAYNE
    Poor little know-nothing. You’re not even a Querent, you’re lower than that. Sludge. Pity you didn’t pursue my entire course of instruction. Then you’d see that when there’s a new Queen of Swords it’s traditional for the previous Queen to make herself scarce.


    WHITNEY
    You did something to her!


    CHARMAYNE
    Prove it.


    WHITNEY
    Plus, you misrepresented yourself when we hired you!


    CHARMAYNE
    Oh, I told Arthur all about it! It only made him admire me more. He proposed, didn’t he? I don’t think you knew your father as well as you thought you did, Whitney. He appreciated people who made something of themselves, who figured out the physics of existence. He didn’t care for helpless wannabes who hang around trading on their birth names and trying to cash in on the past. We complemented each other. He told me, I “embraced multitudes.” And that’s what he loved about me.


    WHITNEY
    He was quoting Whitman. I doubt your marriage is even legal!


    CHARMAYNE
    Now hold on, sister. Have you bothered to research common law marriage in this state? Don’t come annoying me when you haven’t done your homework! I’ll give you a head start by telling you Dr. Quantreau’s trust defines his wife as “ux” – not by name but anyone he called his wife at the time of his death.


    WHITNEY
    Prove it.


    CHARMAYNE
    I don’t have to. And a further piece of advice? When you’re coming after someone, it’s very dangerous to put them on notice. Because then they’ll be ready for you…fully armed.


    (Disappears into house, slamming the door)

  • Queen of Swords – the Tarot Play by Alysse Aallyn

    WHITNEY

    (Getting up her nerve…calling after CHARMAYNE …too late)

    Like you speak French!

    (Goes to sit disconsolately on a boulder.)

    This is MY story and I’m not letting her tell it.

    (A beachily dressed;  closely shaved man with a metal detector comes up the beach slowly.  Investigating.)

    WHITNEY

    Hey!  Don’t you know this is private property?

    EIGHT

    Only to the waterline.  No one owns the ocean.  Which means it belongs to everyone. This your place?

    WHITNEY

    No.  Belongs to my stepmother.  The place she sold to buy this one was the house I grew up in.

    EIGHT

    So now you’re free.  Like me.

    WHITNEY

    (Watches him work)

    Who are you?  What are you doing?

    EIGHT

    I’m a beachcomber and a treasure hunter. Name’s Eight.  Like Pieces of Eight.

    WHITNEY

    Is that what you find?

    EIGHT

    I find everything eventually.  Look at this.

    (She comes closer)

    WHITNEY

    What is it?

    EIGHT

    Prehistoric shark’s tooth.

    WHITNEY

    Looks like an arrowhead.

    EIGHT

    They could have used it for that.  You want it?

    (She shrinks from contact)

    WHITNEY

    I don’t know.  What would I do with it?

    EIGHT

    (Lifts his arm)

    Treasure seekers help other treasure seekers. It’s the beachcomber’s code.  Otherwise it goes back to the sea.

    WHITNEY

    Then I’ll take it.

    (Turns it over in her hands.)

    I wish it was a magic charm.

    EIGHT

    Really?  Why’s that?

    WHITNEY

    I need magic to fight her.

    (Gesticulates at house and whispers)

    She’s a demon.

    EIGHT

    You mean demonic?  Or an actual demon?

    WHITNEY

    I mean an actual demon.  Like from another planet.

    EIGHT

    Most demons are homegrown.

    WHITNEY

    This one cultivates magic.  Reads Tarot.  Calls herself The Queen of Swords.

    EIGHT

    That’s nothing but a pack of cards. No magic there.

    WHITNEY

    She murdered my father.  I know it.

    (A beat. Game change.)

    EIGHT

    You sure of that?

    WHITNEY

    Absolutely certain.  He had this neurological condition, and he hired her to be his attendant. She wasn’t qualified – not at all.  He had me sit in the interviews since I lived there too.  I could see how taken with her he was.  I begged him not to do it but –

    (she shrugs sadly)

    EIGHT

    Let me guess.  She was a sight for sore eyes.

    WHITNEY

    (Nodding)

    Yeah.  But so fake, though!  Fake everything: hair, breasts, accent.  Fake résumé, even.  But he didn’t want to see through her.  He just didn’t care.

    EIGHT

    I get it. He wanted to take his own path to health.

    WHITNEY

    He wanted to grab for the gusto. As soon as they were married –

    (Slits her own throat with a finger.)

    EIGHT

    Any idea how she did it?

    WHITNEY

    Smothering? Drugs?  It wouldn’t have been hard. She cremated him right away and there wasn’t even an autopsy.

    EIGHT

    Did you tell anybody?

    WHITNEY

    I told everybody. But she has them all under her spell. People were relieved he was gone!  Less trouble for everybody.  Even my sisters who – neither of them can stand Charmayne  – said, “Well, at least he died happy!” I was the only one who even missed him.  He was already old when we were born, you see. Darby – that’s my oldest sister – said – “Oh, he’d been gone a long time already.  Can’t you see that?” And McKenzie – she’s the other one – said – “Everyone dies “unnaturally” nowadays.  That’s what death is.” I was the only one who thought it was wrong. My dad said the only education worth having is learning to tell right from wrong.

    EIGHT

    I get it.  You thirst after righteousness.

    WHITNEY

    Justice.  Justice is what I want. People keep telling me it doesn’t exist.

    EIGHT

    Are you certain it’s not revenge you’re looking for?

    WHITNEY

    Well, that would be nice too.  I mean, she makes me so mad. Don’t you feel it?  Wouldn’t anyone? But justice is what I’ll settle for.

    EIGHT

    It’s a bad situation.

    WHITNEY

    You don’t know what a relief it is to have someone actually listen to me. I even – one day – I saw him.

    EIGHT

    You saw him? Your father’s – ghost?

    WHITNEY

    (Nodding vigorously)

    I did.

    EIGHT

    Was he all about vengeance?

    WHITNEY

    He didn’t speak.

    (Tears up.)

    He just showed up in my room at college – probably the same moment she was killing him – and looked at me so sadly.  I knew it was some kind of vision because he was his younger self  – from before he had his stroke.  I thought he was angry at me.  Going away to school and leaving him alone with Charmayne – maybe I let him down.

    EIGHT

    Hey, you told him not to hire her.  I mean, you were just a kid!   What could you do?

    WHITNEY

    He admired people who “spoke truth to power”.  He wanted me to be self-sufficient, use logic and hone my own instincts.  She was awful to him!  She made him beg for water.  I saw it.

    EIGHT

    Sounds like a demon all right.

    WHITNEY

    “Withholding hydration” they call it. I should have protected him, the way he always protected me. He said I was his intellectual heir.

    EIGHT

    Are we talking money?

    WHITNEY

    No, I don’t mean that.  We already had trust funds and things.  What I mean is, he told me I was like him, that I had the same kind of mind. He said knowledge is everything and you have to cultivate a bullshit detector. Even though I was the youngest – me and my sisters have different mothers – he told everyone only I was fit to stand in his shoes.

    EIGHT

    Well, I’m starting to see why your sisters might not want to cooperate.

    WHITNEY

    People have to stand up for what they believe!

    (Very earnestly.)

                                                    EIGHT

    You blush when you’re angry.

                                                    WHITNEY

    I blush whenever there’s another person in the room.  But what do you think I should do?   I’m scared of her.  She threatened me.

    EIGHT

    How?

    WHITNEY

    She said I’m nothing and she created everything.  She’ll send me back into the darkness.  She wants to “tell my fortune” so she can predict all the terrible things that are going to happen to me.  When she calls herself Queen of Swords, she tries to sound like she’s Master of the Universe.

    EIGHT

    Sounds like a con artist to me. They just feel around for anything someone will believe. Don’t let her get the drop on you. 

                                                    WHITNEY

    But what if those cards tell the future?

                                                    EIGHT

    Tarot’s just another dead language, Whitney. You could learn it if you really wanted to. Language shapes how people think.

    (Taps his head)

    Don’t meet her on her turf. Predators like their prey frozen.  And confused.

    WHITNEY

    How did you know my name?

    EIGHT

    I hang around.  I hear things.

    WHITNEY

    So, you’re an eavesdropper.

    EIGHT

    Treasure seekers are serendipitous. We pick up what we can find.

    WHITNEY

    Well, you can’t pick me up.

    EIGHT

    (Still working his stretch of beach)

    I wouldn’t dream of it.

    WHITNEY

    (not thrilled to hear this)

    But what if she really is magic? It seems that way sometimes.  I don’t know how to stand up to her.  

    EIGHT

    Don’t sideline yourself so quick. You’re here, aren’t you? A person who can see the dead can do anything. Magic’s a game and anyone can play.  Games are about rule-making – about control – gaining advantage on somebody, Whit.

    WHITNEY

    My father said never to play a game that’s rigged.

    EIGHT

    What if its rigged in your favor?  And this one is. You know what happens to murderers?

    WHITNEY

    I’m hoping they get caught.

    EIGHT

    The truth will out.

    WHITNEY

    (Looking nervously up at the house)

    Charmayne thinks she’s indestructible.

    EIGHT

    Wow.  Sounds like a dare. I’m partial to dares myself.

    WHITNEY

    She says anything anybody tries to do to her comes back on them a million times. That it’s pointless to fight her.  But I’m not giving up. You see why (looks at the tooth) I might need all the magic I can get?

    EIGHT

    Make her play your game. 

    WHITNEY

    I’d love to see that!  What do I do?  Exactly?

    EIGHT

    Today’s your lucky day.  I just happen to know some magic.

    WHITNEY

    Is that part of being a treasure seeker?

    EIGHT

    Sure. First, you master the elements. That’s way bigger magic than flipping cards and cutting off old men’s hydration.

    WHITNEY

    (Skeptical)

    So how’d you that?

    EIGHT

    I’ve been swept out to sea. I’ve been buried in sand and I’ve been frozen in snow.

    WHITNEY

    We’re going to need way bigger magic than that.

    EIGHT

    See this mark on the top of my head?

    WHITNEY

    (Rubbing his head)

    Looks like scars!  Where did they come from?

    EIGHT

    I had a demon of my own. Once.

    WHITNEY

    You did?

    EIGHT

    Yeah, and he was hard to destroy.  Took a piece out of me, I can tell you.  He marked me right here.

    WHITNEY

    (Very hopeful)

    Did you mark him?

    EIGHT

    I told you I destroyed him. And then I marked myself.

    (Opens his Hawaiian shirt to show tattoo)

    WHITNEY

    (Reading)

    “Be not Afraid.”  How’s that help anything?

    EIGHT

    It’s a reminder.

    WHITNEY

    But you defeated him?

    EIGHT

    Sure did.  He’s locked in a box and he’ll never get out. That’s what sent me wandering.

    WHITNEY

    How come?

    EIGHT

    Because every action produces an opposite reaction.  He’s static, I’m in motion.  Searching.

    WHITNEY

    But if he’s still alive…can’t he still hurt you?

    EIGHT

    No.  He’s lost all his power.  But I did have to take control.  And I had to work on setting myself free.

    WHITNEY

    (Flouncing down onto the beach)

    I’d rather just kill her.  Serve her right.

    EIGHT

    No, no; don’t give her that. That’s what she wants.

    WHITNEY

    Trust me, that is NOT what she WANTS.

    EIGHT

    (Nodding vigorously)

    Trust ME, it is.  She’s hoping to turn you into HER.  She’d have a new young life, a new young body.  I’m not sure anyone could rescue you then.

    WHITNEY

    So tell me what you think I should I do.

    EIGHT

    Play it by the Bible.  You’ve got to call a demon by its name.

    WHITNEY

    (Unimpressed)

    Really? The Bible?  That’s all you’ve got?

    EIGHT

    Hey, the Bible’s full of demons.

    WHITNEY

    So how do I learn her name? Tell me.

    EIGHT

    You said she had a fake everything. If that fake résumé still exists.  I’d start there.

    WHITNEY

    (Arms crossed)

    She probably destroyed every copy.  Then what?

    EIGHT

    Don’t be a “yes, but”.  You know she’s got secrets.  The past’s the best predictor of the future. Find out her past and make sure she knows you know.  Believe me, suddenly she’ll find you the most interesting person on the planet.

    WHITNEY

    Why’s that?

    EIGHT

    Because here’s the secret.  Demons long to be revealed.   If she invites you to dance –

    (Does a little dance, waltzing the metal detector)

    Dance with her.  Then – suddenly, at the time of your choosing you – step aside.

    WHITNEY

    Step aside?

    EIGHT

    (Involving her in his dance)

    Step aside. Let her own momentum bring her down.

    WHITNEY

    (Very frustrated, dancing like she has two left feet)

    I‘ll never get it.

    EIGHT

    First you have to tell your own fortune. Then you tell hers.

    (Heads off down the beach while she’s thinking about it)

    WHITNEY

    She’ll try to put ideas in my head!

    EIGHT

    But if she’s a demon, your ideas are stronger than her ideas.

    WHITNEY

    You don’t know how persuasive she can be.

    EIGHT

    (From the end of the beach)

    Oh, I know.

    WHITNEY

    Wait!  Where are you going?

    EIGHT

    I’ve got to get moving.  I only found one treasure here.

    WHITNEY

    And you gave it away.

    EIGHT

    (Looking at her meaningfully)

    That’s not the one I mean.

    (Resumes his quest)

    WHITNEY

    Wait, wait!  Give me your phone number!

    (Pulls out her phone)

    EIGHT

     I don’t use those things. 

    WHITNEY

    But where can I find you? When will I see you again?

    EIGHT

    Don’t worry.  I’m always around. I like this beach.

    (Exits)

  • Writing a novel for class – a memoir by Alysse Aallyn

    THE PINCH OF DEATH – Writing a novel for class

    After my fiancé graduated law school in Kentucky, we came East – where our families lived – to get married. I applied to Brooklyn College for the MFA program and was hired as a writing fellow. What followed was an experience so discouraging I can well understand why graduate students are at a high risk of suicide.

    First, there’s the contrast between the high prestige of the position and the pitiable pay. You could literally make more money (and spend the same amount of time) combing the subway for lost change.

    Next, there’s the “job” they want you to do, which is to prepare seriously undereducated freshman to write an essay justifying their admission into the hallowed world of academe.

    I had fun developing my own syllabus, which was basically teaching critical thinking in the most fun way I could possibly imagine. A teacher “reviewer” who came to watch the class wrote me a rave review – I don’t think anyone in my life has ever praised me as much as he did. I still cherish that evaluation. But don’t get excited – the second guy (months later) disparaged me so much that if you add the two reviews together I think you’d have to give me a sad C-. But at that point, They Knew About Me – that I had no college degree -and so they were trying to get rid of me. Really, you can’t blame them – how could I prepare students to get something I didn’t have myself? And what – you may ask – was wrong with MY thinking and reasoning powers that I had not expected this?

    The truth is, I had flouted “rules” all my life – they always seemed ridiculous – and because I was a “rara avis” I usually got away with it. But clearly, this could not continue. Much chastened by my brush with the universe (which represented itself as “sanity”) I did go ahead and get a BA degree in psychology from LaSalle. I even got half a masters under my belt from Springfield College until I saw that it was useless.

    But back to Brooklyn. There were classes I took, of course, in WRITING – which was my absorbing interest and passion. I kept the fact that I had actually published a novel a secret because the class expressed such a tragic belief that being published was their deepest desire and most desperate and holy quest. I knew that it was the writing of the book itself – finding the subject AND the expression that was your spiritual release into the world – that was the most important absorbing and exciting. My first book was written to specifications – what was “popular” – under the ingenuous theory that I would develop important publishing relationships (my editor lost her job, my company bought out and revamped.) You could hardly brag about an experience like that.

    For my class on the Novel I decided to write a novel. I thought it would be fun. If you wrote a chapter every week you would have a novel at the end.

    One of my classmates was an ex-nun – a most interesting person – whose experiences strongly affected me. I effortlessly adapted her into my heroine, because my book was a mystery. Surely these are the easiest to write – they must evolve according to a plan. You have to introduce the problem, then the suspects, give clues, and make the reader care about the outcome. I had an idea it would be less emotional than my first book, which got bogged down into a bizarre love story about a fatherless girl pathetically seeking mentorship. THIS book would be all business.

    I got such massive pushback from the class I’m kind of surprised I went through with it – but I was enjoying the writing and the characters were alive to me. “Criticism” in class was students laboriously reading each others’ work, describing its emotional effect on them and describing different ways things could be said. The forward motion of a novel – the sweep, the assumption of power – was thereby utterly dissipated. Everyone just rewrote the first chapters of different books endlessly. So it shouldn’t have been called “Novel Writing”, it should have been called “Paragraph Writing” – a class I wouldn’t take.

    This teacher and I butted heads on all kinds of issues. First off, he said great writing couldn’t have a “happy ending.” I saw his point but I thought it shallow. Surely completion of a quest – solving a mystery – is an enormous relief. But mysteries aren’t serious writing, he insisted. (Uh oh. Since I was engaged on one.) Well, what about the Odyssey? Jane Austen? {Probably Tom Jones, if I could recall the ending.)

    MODERN literature!! He insisted. We can’t have happy endings anymore!

    That was when I realized the whole thing was bogus. If I was bogus, they were even more bogus. I was eight months’ pregnant at the time and this man’s feeble philosophy defied the spinning of the planets, the arrival of spring, the creation of Life itself. What a silly fellow.

    I finished Pinch of Death, and still reread it with pleasure, A very charming book.