The CITY TragedyA Stage Play by Marlowe147The start of a play I'll eventually finish about a New York City detective.The CITY Tragedy
ACT I Scene I
Enter Detective Frank Marlowe, emerging from the darkness, the lighting of his cigarette a quick flash of his face and that is all.
MARLOWE (Aside) Politics make me sick. They are the reason that I keep a shaker of pills and a bottle of gin in my middle desk drawer. The department’s all politics. I don’t care much for them. It tore away the last shreds of humanity this city had. No more decency. Nothing like blue skies at the edge of storm clouds. Nothing like…
She was bleeding, still, though two hours had passed since she was shot down. A pretty face, but not that pretty. Not before, and definitely not now. So young. And pale and lifeless.
Lights and the scene is revealed. Caution tape, yellow and rippling with wind. Police Officers stand in still positions. The red and blue lights silently revolve.
MARLOWE (Aside) I whisper to her, “Little Sheep,” and there is no response. The pool was now collected deep in the apartments black carpet.The officer on the scene was saying something, but it was all muffled and underwater. It wasn’t her.
Lights are up again. The girl moves slightly, cocking her head to stare directly into Marlowe’s dark eyes. GIRL Hello.
MARLOWE …
GIRL Where did you go? Why weren’t you here?
MARLOWE I, I didn’t know. I couldn’t-
The girl was again motionless, head on the ground, her eyes toward the ceiling
OFFICER TIPPIT Frank. I didn’t know you were on the case.
MARLOWE Neither did I an hour ago. And yet here we are.
Tippit loses interest in the conversation and walks out of the room..
GIRL You’ll always fail me.
MARLOWE …
The lights fade, submerging Marlowe and the Girl in darkness; the attention is shifted back to the Police Officers gathered at the buildings entrance .
OFFICER TIPPIT This is fucked up, Sarge. She’s just a kid.
SARGE We’re chasing a monster.
Fade to black
MARLOWE (Monologue) I can’t sleep most nights. The flies crowding the door keep me awake with their incessant buzzing. Sirens. Sirens keep me awake. Sirens are like flies, always, always… Everything is that girl. My little sheep.
Sometimes I dream of her. I dream and she tells me to love and then she says to forget. Then she goes to sleep. That’s when I wake up, shaking and feeling like parasites are eating away stomach lining, head pounding radioactively. My guts churn empty, hollowed out like the stump of a tree. Decayed by the grim air. I hang my sick head in my sick toilet and clutch, with each heave, the base of it. I claw the floor with bloodied hands. The bloods on the mirror’s glass on the floor next to me. I see a piece of my reflection in a shard and rush my head back into the bowl.
Three pestering knocks came at the door
MARLOWE (Monologue) If I can get to sleep I try not to dream. Some of my darkest moments hide in them. But they always find me. After that I can't help but keep awake, pacing my one room overlooking the filth-streets.
Every morning at 5:00am the same damn thing happens: there are terrible scre-
Again a knock at the door. Frustrated.
LUSK Marlowe! Get up, Marlowe! Your late with your rent!
MARLOWE Shut the f**k up! I have to put some clothes on.
Shuffling to the door, Marlowe unlocks the bottom lock, leaving the chain fastened and opens
What?!
LUSK You think you’re king s**t or something? F****n’ talkin’ to me that way, who the f**k are you?
MARLOWE Me? I’m your personal f*****g Mother Teresa. Are you so brain-dead, stupid, that you already forgot that I’m the only tenant that does pay?
LUSK I ought to throw you to the wolves
MARLOWE Yeah, and I ought to get laid, but neither is gonna happen.
LUSK Ah, go to hell, Marlowe.
MARLOWE Already there.
Lusk Exits
MARLOWE Lusk, you dumb sonuvabitch...you're my only friend.
It gets real lonely in dumps like this. The rain dripping outside is good company. I ought to get up. After all, the rent's due and the wolves are howling.
This city is dirt and nobody wants to admit it. The rancid s**t smell at every corner. Sewers that are overflowing, packed to the brim with waste. The drug fiends are in the same damn alleys they were born to. But they're no different from the Prozac-dazed that lace the malls. The ones that carry out sacks from their plunder and pillage.
I pass all of this in thick traffic. A fat f**k in a wheelchair crawls past in his electric rolling. So this is envy?
MARLOWE ‘And this also has been one of the dark places of the earth.’ I read that in some book a long time ago. I find it fit’s the occasion quite well.© 2010 Marlowe147Author's Note
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