Train tunnel

A play I wrote for my drama group... unfortuanetly we're unable to use it as of yet, but maybe one day.

CHARACTERS:

Old Woman [OW]

Confused Man [CM]

Disgruntled Youth [DY]

 

 

 

Four chairs facing the audience, gap in the middle.

 

 

OW: (Enters SR. Steps onto train, pulls door open. Seats self in chair right of aisle. Walking stick on lap. Gazes out of the window. Time passes.)

 

CM: (Enters SL. Also climbs onto train. Seats in seat left of aisle. Huddles down into jacket. Time passes.)

 

OW: (Glances at CM, looks as though about to speak)

 

DY: (Enters through audience. Appears to squeeze past people. Gets to chairs, glances around. Squeezes past CM and sits. Time passes.)

 

OW: Lovely weather.

 

CM: S’been better.

 

DY: Been worse

 

(Pause)

 

OW: Aye, it’ll be worse in London. That’s where I’m headed. London. (Pause) I used to live there. With my daughter. She was a lovely soul. But, as I’m sure you know, London was heavily bombed in the war and…

 

(No response. Silence, and pause.)

 

DY: What’s your name?

 

OW: Me?

 

DY: (Nods)

 

OW:  Dorothy. And yours?

 

DY: (About to speak; changes mind) I’d… rather not say.

 

OW: Oh. (Pause. To CM:) Yours?

 

CM: (Looks up) I… don’t remember.

 

(Pause)

 

DY: Do you want to get off?

 

(Pause)

 

OW: What?

DY: Get off. We’re almost at London.

 

OW: Oh. Okay then. (Squeezes past CM & DY. Begins to open SL door. Pauses) Nice to meet you, dears. (Exit SL)

 

CM: I suppose London’s a good enough place to go. (Stands, as if to leave.)

 

[LIGHTS DOWN. ACTORS EXIT]

[LIGHTS UP]

 

(OW enters US. She walks down; sits on far SL chair)

 

OW: This used to be my favourite place, Elizabeth. You know, I wondered if this could have become your favourite place too. I did bring you here. Once, anyway. Of course, you were only a lil’un. Probably too young to remember. I brought you here because I thought the fresh air might help you sleep. You were a lively child, even as a baby. Always exploring. Sometimes, you’d explore too far. I only wish you hadn’t gone exploring that day. Because if you hadn’t, you would have been at home. Not in the woods behind the arms factory on the other side of the block. (Pause) It’s funny. I come here to talk to you, because on the other side of the park was where our house used to be. It’s a block of flats now. Things have changed over the years. I only wish I could have seen you grow up and change with them. (Pause) I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you, Elizabeth. But you see, I’ve tried to avoid London since then. Too many memories. But… (shaky laugh)... when you become as old as me, you don’t know how much longer you have left, do you? So I thought I’d come before it was too late. It took me a lot of planning, to decide where to come to see you. Funny that the only place I could find was the park you’d only visited once.

 

(OW freezes. CM enters USL. He sits on one of the SR chairs.)

 

CM: (Glances around) This place, it… seems familiar to me. I’m not completely sure how, or why. There’s just something about it. Not the pigeons, or the grass or flowers. Not the people, although they are the same. Not the same names or faces, but the same constructs. The young couple sitting under the trees; the old man walking his dog. The student, reading through a thick book, no doubt for a report due in tomorrow lunchtime. The business man on his mobile. The runners, and the young mother with her screaming kids. All the people you assume you’d meet in a park. (Looks over to OW) Even the old woman sitting on a bench… (Pauses / frowns.) I could have sworn I remember that old lady from somewhere, but I can’t quite place her.

            That’s my trouble, I think. I can’t quite place much anymore. Even my own name has gone missing…ran away from me. I know things about things, and things about people… but I don’t know the things and people themselves. I don’t even know myself, and I don’t know why.

            I need to stop talking to myself. I do it because it might let out the things I do know and create some gaps in my mind. But these gaps fill up with more thoughts of the same. Perhaps I’m always destined to be a thinker… but never a knower.

 

[BOTH EXIT. LIGHTS DOWN]

                        [OW ENTERS, SITS IN SEAT LEFT OF AISLE, CM MOVES OVER TO STAND IN TRAIN AILSE. LIGHTS UP.]

 

(Again, all are on train.)

 

(CM sits next to OW. He doesn't recognise her)

OW: Hello again.

 

CM: (Looks up.) Hm?

 

OW: You were on the train earlier today, were you not?

 

CM: Yes, I… Dorothy, wasn’t it?

 

OW: That’s correct.

 

(CM smiles at the sudden return of a memory)

 

DY: (Enters through audience again, climbs onto train. Seats on left seat next to aisle.)

 

CM: (With confidence) And you again, too! Such a coincidence.

 

DY: Oh… it’s you two again.

 

OW: Did you decide to visit London too?

 

DY: I did not decide to visit London. I didn’t want anything to do with London. The only reason I was there is because… Well, what does it have to do with you, anyway?

 

OW: I used to be the same. London used to be a bad place for me. But it’s at rest for me now.

 

CM: London is a place to think.

 

DY: London is a place where dreams go to die.

 

CM: Why on earth do you say that?

 

DY: Because somebody told me that London would embrace me with open arms. Somebody told me that in London, I could actually use my psychology degree for something useful. Somebody told me that someone in London would employ me. I’ve been back and forward to London six times in the past three weeks and have found nothing. I’ve wasted 22 years of my life, and all because as a young lad somebody told me it would be a good idea to go into psychology. But I only ever studied the theory courses, not the practical courses. What’s the use in a psychologist that can’t even do experiments? Who’s going to hire me when I’ve not had any experience?

 

CM: Who says you have to be practical to get anywhere in psychology?

 

DY: What’s that supposed to mean?

 

CM: Isn’t psychology a… thinking subject?

 

DY: (Scoffs) Psychology, not philosophy. Something worthwhile. Or so I’d hoped.

 

OW: Why does it have to be practical to be worthwhile?

 

DY: What else are you supposed to do with it?

 

CM: I believe you are wrong. Firstly in the insistence that philosophy is not worthwhile. When all you can do is think without knowing, thinking is all that exists.

 

DY: Well, I see your point, but who is like that?

 

CM: I am. My memory’s shot and I don’t know a damn thing solid, by my thoughts are always ticking over. My knowledge is poor, but my understanding is good.

OW: Doesn’t the study of memory come under the psychological banner?

 

DY: Well, yes, but"

 

OW: And practicality always has to have a basis in theory.

 

DY: Of course, but"

 

CM: You’re young, and you have your life ahead of you. Instead of giving up, expand on your knowledge. You don’t want to waste what you have. It’s all I’ve ever done in my life, and it’s too late for me.

 

OW: Me too. It’s a sad state of affairs when your sole company is your own head.

 

DY: But that’s the problem! The theory has put me so close to my own head that I can’t even work out what I want anymore! I have no goal in my life. I’m wandering down a blind road, a road with no signposts. There is not light at the tunnel, don’t you see that? I’m going to end up as a nothing and as a nobody. Which one am I going to be? The lonely old lady that has to butt her nose into everything to feel like she actually has a life, or the man who doesn’t even know his own name?

 

CM: Did you ever stop to think that we’re all the same? We’re all blind in our lives. I don’t think there’s a single soul alive who truly knows his own wishes. We have to create the light at the end of the tunnel, regardless of whether we believe it is possible or not.

 

DY: Perhaps you’re right.

 

OW: You will always find something, as long as you try hard enough. Whomever said what you’re looking for isn’t closer to home? London isn’t the only place in England. So you couldn’t find what you wanted there? Look somewhere else. You say yourself you don’t want to become a nobody, so you make sure you become a somebody.

 

DY: Is that possible?

 

CM: Nobody knows, unless they try.

 

(Pause as all consider, looking away from each other.)

 

DY: …Earlier, I never told you my name.

 

(All look back towards him.)

 

…It’s Michael.

 

OW: Nice to meet you, Michael.

 

CM: (Extends his hand) Erik.

 

DY: (Shakes hand, in wonder) You just remembered your name.

 

CM: Why… so I did. Seems like this train ride did something for both of us, son.

 

DY: Perhaps you’re right. (To Dorothy) I wish I could do something for you, Madam.

 

OW: That’s okay dear. You already have.

DY:  I…have?

 

OW: But of course, dear. You reminded me of the spirit of youth I was never able to see since Elizabeth died.

 

(All sit in wonderment.)

 

CM: You both living in Southampton?

 

(OW & DY look at CM in confusion)

 

OW: Yes…

 

DY: How do you know?

 

CM: Because that’s where we all got on. Let’s go, we’re nearly here.

 

(All three pull themselves to their feet, and exit the train.)

Reviews

[Unwelcomeguest]

As someone who has to act in this, do you think our begginging still makes sense now you have re-written the end. Just came to me now.