The Battle of Beloved: The Puppet, The Strings, and The Other

 *Note:  Characters are not actually a puppet, strings, etc.  Those are  only their given names

 

(On stage is a room with plain walls and a door at the back of the stage. There is a plain wooden table and chair in the center of the room with a wine glass holding red wine resting on it. There are three characters standing on stage. We don't know their names, but we will call them Other, Strings, and Puppet*. Puppet is in between Other and Strings. Other is standing closest to the table. Strings is standing closest to the door. Though, throughout the scene, all three characters are aware of the others' presence, Strings will only address Puppet, Puppet will only address Other, and Other will also only address Puppet. Strings and Other never speak to one another. And Puppet never speaks to Strings.)

 

The Other: (Other speaks while standing between Puppet and the table) Do you know this room?

 

The Strings: No, you don't.

 

The Puppet: No, I don't.

 

The Other: Does nothing seem familiar?

 

(Strings' back is turned and is looking at a wall. Puppet looks all around the room; eyes avoiding the wine glass on the table)

 

The Puppet: No.

 

The Strings: You shouldn't be here. You know that.

 

The Puppet: I think I should leave. (Puppet turns toward the door)

 

The Other: No, don't worry. Why don't you take a seat? (Other pulls and offers a chair from the table to Puppet)

 

The Puppet: (Puppet glances quickly and nervously at the wine glass) No. I don't belong here.

 

(Strings steps closer to Puppet and frowns. Other smiles kindly)

 

The Other: Of course you do.

 

(Puppet hesitates; looking at Other, then sits)

 

The Strings: (Strings speaks angrily to Puppet) Who do you think you are? You know better than to think you could belong here. Look at that (Strings points to the wine glass). You know that's not for you.

 

(Puppet begins to rise from the seat and stutters)

 

The Puppet: I…I…

 

(Other interrupts Puppet)

 

The Other: It's alright. Just sit here for a while and rest. I've been waiting for a while to talk to you.

 

(Puppet speaks nervously)

 

The Puppet: About what?

 

The Strings: You don't want to stay here. It isn't safe here. You will get hurt.

 

The Other: You know why I want to talk to you. Can't you hear your name being called?

 

The Strings: Anything that would call to you would not be calling for a friendly chat.

 

The Puppet: No, I haven't heard anything.

 

The Other: Really, then why are you here?

 

The Strings: Don't answer that.

 

(Puppet stutters a bit while Strings steps close to Puppet's side)

 

The Strings: Don't answer that!

 

The Puppet: (Puppet says quietly) Because I Want to hear it.

 

The Strings: Shut up!

 

The Other: I can hear it right now, in this room. Why do you think you aren't hearing the same?

 

The Strings: Fool. This is what we both knew would happen. Do you want them to see you? I'm here to protect you. If you tell them anymore we'll both be dead.

 

The Other: If you want to hear it, what's stopping you?

 

The Puppet: I just…I think I am afraid.

 

The Strings: What are you thinking? Don't say that. What do you have to be afraid of? I'm here. You don't need anything else. But if you continue like this, then you really will have something to be afraid of.

 

The Other: What should you be afraid of? Don't you know your own name?

 

The Puppet: My name?

 

The Strings: That name is not yours. You can't take it because you are a liar, and you would be even more of a liar to try and take it.

 

The Puppet: It can't be my name.

 

The Other: Why not?

 

The Puppet: That name can't be meant for me. (Puppet looks away ashamed)

 

The Strings: You know what you are. I know. I protect you from yourself. Remember that.

 

The Puppet: I'm nothing. Like a puppet animated falsely to impress. (Puppet looks at Other sadly) That is not my name.

 

The Other: It is what you are called; the name of the puppet, (Other looks at Strings for the first time) but not its strings.

 

The Strings: You should leave now.

 

The Puppet: (Puppet looks down at the floor) I wish my strings and I could rest forever. (Puppet glances up at Other to explain) Not lazy. Not apathetic. Just…something else. (Puppet's gaze shifts up to the ceiling) Something like Home. (Now Puppet looks back at Other) Just me.

 

The Strings: You don't know what you are saying. Remember the nothing—the emptiness. That's the "Home" you are talking about. That is you.

 

(Puppet looks down as Strings speaks)

 

The Other: (Other looks only at Puppet) By answering to your name, you could be Home.

 

The Strings: You know that name cannot be yours.

 

The Puppet: But I am held tightly by these puppet strings. (Puppet lifts up both arms) I see my edges are frayed by too much pretending. (Puppet laughs bitterly) There is too much fiction to life.

 

The Strings: All this talking is foolish. You know the truth.

 

The Puppet: Through it all, all the pretend, all the lies, all the confusion, one truth circulates in the never-ending undercurrent of my thoughts. (Puppet looks at the wine glass on the table and pauses, then looks quickly away) I hate myself.

 

The Strings: That is it. Your story. That is your name.

 

The Other: That is not the one Truth. The Truth is in the Calling. Can't you hear your name?

 

The Puppet: (Puppet speaks in a desperate anger) It is not my name! (Puppet continues more sad than angry now) It cannot be.

 

The Strings: Something shallow cannot be called anything but what it is unless it has a way to hide.

 

The Puppet: I would like to think myself something more complex, like a body of water. I would look into myself, past the surface reflection to the unending depths and be awed. (Puppet smiles sadly and looks at Other) But that is only first glance. The reality is, this depth is nothing more than the black slimy ground beneath the drop-deep pool splashed at your feet.

 

The Other: (Other steps forward and takes Puppet's hands) It is your name. (Puppet tries to pull away but Other hangs on) Not because you deserve it, but because it was given to you.

 

The Strings: Don't believe it! The truth! The truth about yourself! You feel it. You can't forget the truth.

 

The Puppet: It cannot be true.

 

The Other: Why? Because you cannot believe it? You cry out and find fault with yourself, but then claim to know the Truth to be impossible. Though there may be fault with you, there is none with your name.

 

The Puppet: (Puppet cries) Oh, God! I know! I know I am hiding. I feel the block set at the base of my neck. (Puppet gestures toward Strings) Cutting off my thoughts. Cutting my heart. (Other steps closer but Puppet draws away) You see it, too! I can think, but I can't ever let myself know. I can't let myself feel. (Puppet's eyes are closed and head shakes in denial. Puppet looks up at the ceiling) Oh! What horrible emptiness! I know why I despise being alone. Sitting in the room with that (Puppet points to the wine glass on the table) Only you and me. I've worked too hard at ignoring both to stop now. (Puppet turns sharply away from the table) I feel sick.

 

The Strings: It's time to leave and forget this.

 

The Other: You are trying too much. Look at your strings. (Other gestures to Strings) You cannot deny or hate them. They have become part of you. You must accept them. You know your name. If you accept your strings there will be nothing to block you from hearing the Call.

 

The Strings: (Strings steps back; afraid, and speaks quietly but sternly) No.

 

The Puppet: (Puppet is crying) Oh! These tears burn my face as they fall. I am dry. How long has it been since I started? How many years ago did the first burning drop slip its way from my soul?! (Puppet gasps and stops crying) I am empty. They are all gone now. All that surrounds my eyes now is dark. Darkness leaving its imprint on my skin. (Puppet reaches up and touches the skin below the eyes) Dry skin, from all the years of burning.

 

The Other: Do you still reject what has found you? It is still waiting for you. (Other turns and points to the wine glass)

 

(Strings backs away toward the door)

 

The Puppet: I am afraid if I touch anything I will make it dirty.

 

The Other: How can you make dirty what has made you clean? (Puppet looks away from the table) Look. The glass has not moved. Your desire has not changed, but fear and pride have you rooted just outside the glass's reach.

 

(Strings' mouth moves to speak but no sound is heard)

 

The Puppet: My name. I hear it. (Puppet begins crying again) It's beautiful.

 

(Puppet reaches out timidly and wraps fingers carefully around the glass.)

 

(Black out. End of play.)