Pinch's River

This is a play I had started (which could easily be a screenplay, if willed to be so), but I never managed to finish this tale of Pinch. Let me know if you enjoyed it enough to want more.

 

Pinch sits at his desk within his office, staring into the empty chair across from him, as if he is looking into it for a person, almost hoping they were sitting there.

 

Pinch (to himself): To unknown depths my light has drowned,

Much like rare fem' ring luxuries misplaced.

To have nada nearby--nada in future, nor past--

Places achings within mine many vessels.

Demons titled "Laughter" and "Joy" are but

Mere memories; memories drowned with Nora,

My divine enlightenment in the flesh.

Wandered wither her, I must ponder

Till black, approaching, tick-tocking moments,

I suppose. Ashes of wishes rest upon my thoughts

Like left 'hind tear-stains streaking mine underlids.

Dearest Nora, here hath we acquainted each, the lands

Almost fall opposite us. Green growers now crisp

And withered, as mine bosom beater.

Thy blank presence scar mine eyes with

Abandoned memoribilia, thou tipskins hath met

At one or another date. Mine arms returneth,

Dearest, most truthful harp, I beg you!

 

A beat. Pinch stands, turning to stare out of the window.

 

Together must be jerked strings of I.

Immediate, unless questionable thoughts beat me

Over the temple-crown with epic aches of lonesomeness.

After passing, whether experienced or witnessed, we

Are kidnapped of sincere grins, for availability to hope

Might be thought factored, in eventuality.

Victims of us Life--not Death, but Life--hath made.

All left is urgency for all to end, for the Shadowmen

To come 'round, storing the many hate-filled together.

No more are we, even in daylight's brightest wakings.

 

Enter Julia, after knocking, through the door.

 

Julia: 'Hind me stands thine double-clocked appoint of this day.

Hope Tilly she hath entitled herself.

Steady art thou, dear Pinch? Why

Hast thy face not yet twisted mine and Hope's way?

 

A beat.

 

Julia (to Hope): Minutes I plead your day. Momentary

Be this, yet I form this barrier shortly for friendship

Company is a necessity right and now.

Momentarily, nothing more than its absolution,

I confirm with definite heart unto you, Miss Tilly.

 

Hope nods in understanding as a worrisome face beshadows her. Julia closes the door, then steps towards Pinch.

 

Julia (quietly): What silence hath shadowed over you, Pinch?

Miss Hope shan't be asked to keep calmed patience as

You peer throughout neighboring city yonder.

A curse upon corporation that reputation becometh

Over year's slipping. An ending curse, it might well be deemed.

 

Pinch still doesn't acknowledge her.

 

Julia (aggravated): Abscenctmindedness is noticable,

Pinch. Fair suitings and head expressions

Are discouragements to thine patients; for a want

Of existence is often pleaded by them whom come willingly,

Simply as beggers of an ear or double that.

 

A beat as Julia waits for Pinch to answer. When he does not, she turns and stomps toward the doorway.

 

Julia (flustered): Settled! Assumptions speak aloud, in these lobes, even!

Arrangements for a dawning day shall be dated

In key with thine recently irritable shades! Prayers of pleasant--

 

Pinch: Pardon pleaded by I, always timely Julia friend.

Blue the thoughts bottled in my skull and heartskull

Of late hath adopted, regardless of thy pleasant prayers

Scoping over I and it. Filth mine mindset hath placed in

The corner which "Faith" belonged, at one age.

Hurt's tracks are traced by pen-like inkings

Of depression and gloom acquired--and gripped--

As easiest as peace on a Californian wave during eve'.

Presence of my long-stretched bond with She-Whom-Is-Vanished

Remains. Not only hauntings of dearest Nora in the

Living shack stand firm, in refusal to pass me

Mercifully; achings of mere ideas of hauntings sit, sleep, then

Thrive in this river I have morphed. True heartfelt issue

Is the cure to these mere feelings adopted without crave.

Boulders upon my back, attempting to shake from is

Regretful, almost multiplying achings already thriving.

What say you this mad feel I live?

 

Julia hugs him.

 

Julia: Poor Pinch! Thy heart is crushed in misery, yet

Thine eyes look on, into hopeful skies dangling by the outer.

Minus punning, hope resides in the clouds past that glassy square,

Much like Hope Tilly sits in wonder, in wait of your time.

Time-making is as crucial a deed for hope as 'tis for

That ear she--and itself--beckons to.

 

A beat passes as Pinch attempts to adjust himself for Hope. Julia heads to the door. She turns to him.

 

Julia (smiling): Is readiness a settled thought, dear Pinch?

Or resume, shall I, the dating Miss Hope for an alternate morn?

 

Pinch (hesitant): Nay. Remove her to here, fair Julia.

 

Julia: Aye, lovely-daunt Pinch.

 

Julia exits, shutting the door behind her. We see Pinch pull forth a kerchief and wipe at his face nervously. He breathes slowly.

 

Pinch (softly): Hold firm, Pinch. Hold firm,

And do not let slip. Still, still, still.

 

Hope enters, then shuts the door gently. Pinch squabbles toward her, shakes her hand.

 

Pinch: For first papers, Pinch thou may knowest

Me by. Miss Tilly, I inquired through fair Julia?

 

Hope nods as Pinch turns back to his desk, still wiping his face a bit. Hope proceeds to the seat across from Pinch. She sits.

 

Five beats of silence passes as they stare at each other. They both give small, mean-ingless smiles at points, but both end up looking downward, into space.

 

Hope (hesitant): Pray for buggeries not, yet inquire

Must I whether an exchange shall come trippingly

Between thy and I. Assurance towards early ago,

I find very shady. Art thou in feel for such a speak?

 

Pinch: Aye, aye, like a c**k in wait for morning's

Greet!

 

Hope (unsure): Thy posit'? Methinks thou art in some

Category terror. Thy brow drips whilst thine

Scitterish eyes meet all objects save mine own.

When so, thou make expression of a beast of me!

 

A beat. Pinch clears his throat.

 

Pinch: Avoid such thinkings. Latest light-passings

Hath spit me out in unrest, Miss Tilly.

Along now. We genisis thy issue at the 'fore,

Till the present, whenst steppings brought thy being hither.

 

Hope: Wouldst thou admire I as the 'logue to my telling,

Pinch? Toddler tips afore plowing fields, aye?

 

Pinch: A cent-passing hast no glance at I, deary.

'Tis thy pennies, much like thy very own clock.

Remaining are the end barriers, yet week's end

Is perceived in no way, at present. 'Tis eternity

In thy favor, Miss Tilly.

 

Hope: O-aye, Pinch. No concrete barrier draweth nigh,

Praise be given. View me so, in mine appropriate

'Logue, with thy thoughtful nog'. Far-glanced choice set

Is the sin of modern generation.

 

Pinch (tapping his own head): Gander within headbone, Miss Tilly,

For nay a judicial chosen per any man.

Anti-profession is ne'er a progression in herespot.

 

Hope: Regards, Pinch, yet my casting of this clump--

Miss Tilly--hath morphed to necessity. 'Tis boiling

Mine bugs, I speak sound.

 

A beat of awkwardness. Their eyes do not break away from each other.

 

Hope (sighing): Apologies, fine Pinch. Eager art mine

Lips. Long-picked collections art but graves

In endtime days. A decaying mass doth rest easy, till

Acknowledged, like a once-loved youth mutt.

I--Hope, strict Hope--art riddled complexities inner and

Outer. Simplicity doth never knewist I. At time's spots,

I praise paradise Himself for such, dropping

My short drippings of mad feel momentaire.

Most Evil Acknowledge tramps passed repeated--

In cycle--to stir that rot mass, no matter firm declaration

Of peace the mass retired of late. Unwound

I stand, in pasttimes of mine own recreation. Nay, nay,

Simplicity doth never knewist I.

 

A beat.

 

Pinch: 'Twas thy 'logue, faithless Hope?

 

Hope: Aye.

 

Pinch (laughing): Murderous you me! Murderous you me!

Dearest, what doth thy count simple? Murderous,

I deem!

 

Hope stands in fury.

 

Hope (hurt): Thy own teethbaring aches mine spirit, whether

Presented in grumbles or laughter, dastardly Pinch!

 

Pinch: Quit, quit I plead! 'Twas a large mass of

Rotting cackle within I in need of spitting, fair

Hope! Fingercrossings, harm was not minded

Beforehand, sweet, kind, Hope.

 

Hope (angry): Surely, surely! Spit other withholdings,

As I recede through yonder frame!

 

Pinch stands and rushes to the doorway, holding the door shut.

 

Hope: Remove, foul potpiece!

 

Pinch (serious): Pray you take spot, Mi--

Hope! Hope.

 

A beat as Hope reconsiders leaving. She then sits in the chair she was in previously.

 

Hope: Ill I label myself, at present.

Methinks thy presence unworthy of bosom ticker.

Withdrawal would be adequite, in such a mome'.

 

Pinch begins to walk towards his desk, then sits.

 

A few beats pass as they say nothing whilst staring into each other's eyes. Finally, Pinch looks away.

 

Pinch (sighing): Apologies, flower. Sincere, my word be known.

Thou spit truthful collections this way. Thy ticker

Shan't be wasted present herespot. Yonder frame is thy

Runaway, if willed. 'Tis not a bidding for I.

"Misery loveth company", wrongly spat?

 

Hope: Much like a river in crackling skies;

'Tis reaching out, tugging for company.

 

Pinch: Aye direct at that spot, Miss Hope.

A flood may rob, yet same such flood gains.

 

Hope: Whether it be nit-picks, tinkered fiddlings,

Or doodads silly at once glance, only

To be missed after swallowed by same such

Flooding. Sporatic gooseflesh thus rise in mine

Upper shoulder towards present thinkings pondered

Of beings swallowed by same such currents.

Canst thy nog depict a pull of the toe-ligs

Below, below, below, into such depths?

Further cast, harsher pressure doth squish,

Heard I by Science courses taught by

Robotic beings--peeps unfamiliar to losings.

A singular beg of whim to life forces our arms

Outward, investigating whilst tugging goes on

For a hold our five digits meet in short

Greatfulness. Foolishness consumes us, once passed,

Much like former currents once did.

Belief in thunder-lightings striking a spot doubly

Disispates. In later sun orbitings, thy and thy

Fool selves are welcomed in nonwarmth to

Former flooding's depths. 'Tis a risk

To remain ill-prepared eversome times.

Thy guesses art mere possibilities of

The Maker's timing. Frightful, frightful mindings,

Earnest Pinch.

 

Hope notices that Pinch is crying.

 

Hope (worrisome): What set thy tearing, Pinch? Didst

Thou losings, at one age, such horrors involve?

Or art thy salt-tears merely in mortality realized?

 

Pinch wipes his eyes and tries to get a hold on his breathing. Pinch does not answer her, for he begins to cry harder.

 

A beat passes, and Hope rushes outside of the door, to collect Julia.

 

Hope: Madam, rushingly here! I plead you,

For poor Pinch hath gone tearful, for things

Unknown to I!

 

Julia rushes inside, with Hope, toward Pinch. She wraps her arms around the crying man and hushes softly for him to calm down.

 

Julia (to him): Why hast thou broken at current

Mome', dear Pinch? Hush, now. Hush.

Thine tears must be spilt for fullness

In feel restored.

(To Hope) 'Twere thy and he spaking

Of, Miss Tilly? Pinch shivers like a startled

Hound.