a talk with death

A Stage Play by Martin Alexander O'leary

We are in a graveyard. It’s over grown with
grass, the tombstones are lopsided and cracked
and decayed. It’s night time and the stars shine
brightly in the velvet sky.
One spot light comes up on DEATH. She is in red
overalls, hair tied back, make up sharp and
glittery. She sits on a grave stone, still and
poised as an bird before taking flight. She
stares out towards the audience scribbling into
a black note pad and not looking to see what she
is writing.
When she speaks her mouth does not move but
three different voices come from her at
different tones and pitches.
Allure Of Darkness by BrunuhVille fades in.
DEATH
I am the one thing that all humans fear the most,
they do not know of what can wait for them after i
have escorted them to their destination. I strive to
make a good first impression when we meet.
I make sure my roots are bleached, most of them love
a blonde, I steam and wash my apparel every day. the
red was my idea, my father wanted me to wear skulls
and crossbones and a badge saying ’Hello I’m here to
take you to hell’.
him and uncle argued on my fashion for ages. I
started my first shift in my black dressing grown,
they wouldn’t allow me to wear make up so i kept my
hood up, it a fasion craze amoung the protentail
clients. It’s all they ever ask me about. ’I thought
you were meant to wear a black clock and all skeleton
like?’ To which I give the same old responce of ’No
thats just me when i haven’t had my morning coffee.’
I remember each one of them as i took them to their
new homes, each one a satified client. sometimes i
got a call from them asking to take a trip back to
their old home.
The MOTHER comes on. Everything she wears is
black, her hair loose and curley. she carries a
backpack. she rests it on a grave. the backpack
has marked on it ’MOTHER’.
DEATH
She left her eight year old son behind after events
that could not be avoided. When I heard that uncle
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 2.
DEATH (cont’d)
wanted to move her into a new house, i protested. I
was outraged that he would seperate a mother from her
child. Their is no greater tradedy than a child who
has to see me.
the night before her send off i came to him, she came
with me as well. they both sat down and talked for
ages. He cried all the way though their moment. He
turned on me afterwards, shouting and pleading with
me to give her back. What can I do? I am only the
means to the end, I can’t give her back her old
property. He tried to kill me in front of her. But i
never die, Never. And he never forgot, nor did he
forgive.
The SON enters into the light. he wearing a
smart suit. grey, white shirt, black tie. He
carries a brand new looking suit case, on it is
marked ’SON’. He opens it up and pulls out a
revolver and some bullets. He loads one in the
chamber and spins it. He points it towards
DEATH. He is a playing RUSSIAN ROULETTE.
DEATH
He Became a challange afterwards, I’m not allowed to
take him to her yet but I keep my eyes on him. If he
was’nt trying to distroy Uncle though me.
SON pulls the trigger, no bang, he points the
barell to his head.
DEATH
He would be trying to get himself moved up on the
propity ladder.
SON pulls the trigger, the gun does not fire. He
rests it on his lap and stares at it.
MOTHER looks at him and rises from her grave.
SON points the gun at her.
DEATH
I alway’s was their to stop him from doing something
stupid but that can only go so far. He just kept
going on and on. he did’nt know what pain he was
causing.
SON pulls the trigger, the gun fires, MOTHER
falls to the ground in pain. she opens her mouth
letting out a silent scream.
DEATH
How can I reach you when you even see what your doing
to me, to your flesh and blood, your god.

© 2013 Martin Alexander O'leary

Author's Note

first draft, who gets it, fight fight fight

My Review

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Featured Review

Ama May Cooper

Im gonna be honest with you and say my first impression upon loading the page was...this is not how you write a script but im aware that writers cafe has a habit of reformatting things so that might not totally be down to you.

The content on the other hand is fantastic filled with a creepy and eriee sense, i love the idea of death being a female with a fashion sense rather than the sterytypical skeleton guy in a hood. Such a deep and thrilling end. I raise my hat to you good boy :)

There are a few spelling and grammer errors here or there but nothing serious... bloody well done i hope to see this come to life before my eyes in times to come