Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!

Myst in the Dark (1 Viewer)

S

Sorean

This is the first act to my play.

ACT 1

Scene 1:

[Jon, Deborah, and Bill are on an office floor. Jon is in his cubical. He is standing just tall enough that he can see into the next cubical over. Jon hears someone coming and sits back down in his chair.]

Bill: What are you doing, Jon?

Jon: Just trying to get Jeremy’s program running.

Bill: Let me have a look at it. You haven’t ended the program. You need a set of parentheses there to end your code. How long have you been working on this?

Jon: No more than half an hour.

Bill: It’s taken you half an hour and you didn’t see that it needed ending parentheses? You’ve been making a lot of mistakes lately. Are you sure you’re doing alright? Maybe you should take a few days off.

Jon: No. I’m fine. I’ve just been a little out of it lately.

Bill: Well, figure out what it is soon, and get back to the programming you’re supposed to be doing.

Jon: Yes, sir. [Bill leaves. Deborah passes by his cubical] Deborah, how are you doing today?

Deborah: I am doing well. How are you?

Jon: I am as always fair. How is Richard?

Deborah: He is doing very well. He just got a job at another company. He’s marking a lot more money, and hopefully it will not be long before we are married.

Jon: Are you two engaged yet?

Deborah: Oh no. He hasn’t asked me yet, but I’m sure he will soon. I can tell something has been on his mind lately, and I hope that’s it.

Jon: Will you still work here after you are married?

Deborah: I am not sure. I might move up north with him, or maybe he’ll move down here. We haven’t really figured it out yet.

Jon: You’ll have to tell me if you two get engaged.

Deborah: I will. Well, there’s Richard with his BMW. I’ll see you later.

Jon: See you tomorrow. [Deborah leaves]

[aside] Deborah is so lovely. I would date her were it not for her boyfriend. There is no way a geek like me can compete with him. As Deborah reminds Bridget often, Richard drives a BMW. I only have a Ford. I don’t know why I torture myself like this. It is a fleeing dream. All I will ever have is my endless screens of code. I will never know the touch of her warm smooth skin. I am an idiot for even thinking about these things. [Deborah leaves] He gives her endless kisses. If I were her boyfriend so would I. I shall never know what that would be like.

Scene 2:

[Jon leaves to his apartment. There is a bed on one wall, a couch in the center and a TV in front of the couch. Next to the TV is a pile of black and white movies. There is also a large pile of poetry on the other side of the TV]

Jon: I am not the man she thinks I am. I am not who anyone would except. I am not a geek or nerd. Secretly I write poetry. I watch the classics. I read Shakespeare almost every day. I dream of knights and ladies. I hate these unsatisfying action movies of today. They have no plot or good characters. I think of these things constantly. I would write a book if I only knew how to start.

All she sees is this rugged corpse. She does not see my heart. I am not bitter and boring like so many men of today. I am kind and gentle like the Knights of the Round Table. I use force only when needed. Over the years I have learned how to woo but am too afraid to attempt it. What would I do if she said no? Is there even a woman today who wants to be wooed? Most would have their ten-minute men. They have their man cling to their arm as they parade their bodies through the streets. I think it is disgusting and only a perverted form of love. No. It is not even love. It is nothing but slimy lust.

What ever happened to playing the guitar under the window? What happened to reciting poetry of old to her? Where did all the kisses on the hands go?

Why do I think of these things? Who else in this world thinks like this? I am trapped in this life. I dream so much of another world. I see myself there as another person. I am bold and confident instead of this spineless man I am today. I remember Deborah before she knew Richard. She was as lovely as ever. I wanted to ask her out so many times, but I never did. What a coward am I. I wish I could put aside this worthless and witless man for but a moment. I would fly to her and kiss her on the cheek, but like all spells, it must end. I would turn back into myself, and she would leave me again. There is no hope for me with her.

[Looking through the pile of movies] There’s no classic here I haven’t seen a dozen times. I’ve memorized every line. There’s no book of poetry I haven’t read. I used to love it, but now I find my taste for rhymed words is severely lessoned.

[Sits on the couch] How did it come to this? How did I ever sink so low? I left my childhood friends and family in Nevada. I came to California seeking my fortune, but I have found nothing. I only have this vacant apartment with only one poster on the wall, and I crave the love of a woman I will never have. Why could I not be someone famous or passionate? Why can’t I be romantic? Why have I never known anything outside these white walls? Why have I come to be bound in this prison as if I have committed some terrible sin? What have I done to deserve this?

What would it be like to give it all away for some wild thing, and to press this life to the limits of my imagination and become whoever I desire to be? That is so out of character for me, it just might work, but I do not know how to become someone else, and I do not know who to be. Would I do all this for a woman’s affection? How should I recover should she refuse my love, and I am left alone once again with my infection? I do not think my heart could take it. These good plans I weave can be only to deceive. She has fallen in love with another, and I must lie to have her fall in love with me. This would not be true love. This would be forced love, and what good is that?

Unless it is not a lie, but the truth. I do not know who I am, but only know who I am not. Perchance I am that other man and am in disguise now instead of the opposite. Yes. I am bent on it now. So easily is my mind given into it. What deeds shall await me? What will my new path be? What shall I suffer to bend her mind? What must I do for her to call me kind?

So quickly this new wave comes over me. I only hope I will find the man I am supposed to be. Am I hidden there in the cleft of her hand? Am I behind those beautiful blue eyes? Where is that man I am to be? Surely there must be a place for me. I have not found him in these tangled coils. He is not in the endless code. I will surely find him if I woo her. As she rests in my arms, I will find him. We will be together always.

First, I must attend to the changing of myself. What shall be the paper on which I will write my tale? This world is far too frail for such a yarn, and I am far too weak to woo here. Not in this world will my seduction lie, but in a world where I am more godlike. I will create a world like a dream. I will sew it with a golden seam. The stars will linger low, words will walk to and fro. Poetry will ooze out of my world like a brook. There I will open up my heart and let her look. She will not see this average man that she now calls Jon. In my eyes she will see the light of poetry dawn.

I will forge this world out of the backbone of my knowledge. I have spent my life being ruled by computers, but now I will rule them. They will become the slaves of my imagination, and I will give birth to my wonderful creation. It will be wonderful. It will be beautiful. She will stand in awe of my mind, and we will be one of a kind. I would do all this just to show you how much I really care. Deborah, you have only to take my hand, and we are there.

[Jon looks through the phone book for a moment and then calls a number]

Jon: Yes. I was wondering if you sell mainframes.

Clerk: Yes, we do.

Jon: I’m going to need accelerated graphics, and several large hard drives. I also need them to work in hot temperatures.

Clerk: We have exactly what you need.

Jon: How much would two of them be?

Clerk: After we make the special modifications you asked for, they would probably be around three or four hundred thousand dollars. I could run the numbers for you if you’d like.

Jon: That will not be necessary. Thank you. [Hangs up] I don’t even know anyone with that much money much less anyone who would be willing to lend it to me.

But come, squeamish boy, let foul deeds awake. Your precious morals must be put at stake. All will have to be sacrificed for love if I am to have the prettiest dove.

There is a place where I can find the things I need. In fact, it is familiar to me. I can gain entrance to it without struggle. Getting out, that’s the torture. How would I slip past the guard carrying such a burden? Surely someone will see, and the police will come to get me. But if the guard were dead, not a word would be said. It would be innocently simple.
Come now, mind, back from your horrid state. Why should you mar your perfectly clean slate? This woman loves another. She cannot love you. I will not have her torn in two.

To have her close to my side and touch her silky skin is worth all the evils this world within. Come, mind, shake off this moral dilemma, choose and never go back. Decide now to stay or attack because I refuse to be a double-minded man.

I will fight for her as well as anyone can. Dark deeds no more boil in my brain. Too long has my slate been without a stain. Morals, fly. Darkness, come. Guards will die before I’m done.

Scene 3

[Jon, dressed in black, is approaching his work]

Jon: Here I am in the dark, covered in shadow and in sin. But hush now, someone comes from within.

Voice 1: That’s why I told them not to do it, but headquarters had to have it their way.

Voice 2: Oh well, it’s not your fault. We’ll get a fresh start on it in the morning. Oh wait, it is morning.

Voice 1: I really do love the money you get when you’re a technician, but I hate the hours sometimes.

Voice 2: I’m with you there. See you tomorrow.

Voice 1: Bye.

Jon: Come to my aid, darkness. Give me the strength to do what I never even considered before this. [Jon enters the building taking out his two guns]

Guard: What are you doing? [Jon shoots him]

Jon: We hold life too closely to our hearts anyway. We callously go through it every day. Why do we weep so when it ends? [He gets his two large dollies and comes back inside. He goes upstairs and unhooks the two mainframe computers. He brings them down one by one into a moving truck. As he is brining the second down, a janitor sees him. The janitor just stands there, and Jon shoots him.]

[Jon leaves the mainframe on the dolly while he goes to Deborah’s desk.] And what shall I give you that I may win your love? I could give you words. I could sing to you. I could recite to you my poetry. I will do none of these things, and yet I will do all of these things with this simple gift. [He places a red rose on her desk.] I have written you a note and signed it as your secret admirer. You may wonder who it will be, but I doubt you’d ever think it was me. You see only the outside. You see the part which has died. But if you would stray a little from your common way, you might have something else to say. I am no longer this idle man. If you would just dare to take a look, I will show you a world untold. Let me open my heart as a book, and I will let my love unfold. Deborah [He kisses the flower and leaves].

[Jon is driving away into the night.] What is love that I should risk so much for a thing I cannot even put into a word? It is the deepest emotion. It is what makes the world turn. It is perhaps the most precious gift we know. It is all these things, and yet it is so much more. I have come to think of it as the thread with which our very lives are spun, and if I am not careful it will be the thing by which I am undone.
 

Novicewriter

Senior Member
Sorean....I liked this...very original :) and fresh.... I just wish the scenes could have been longer. Have you thought about turning this into a screenplay?

I'm no expert and don't want to come across as one....I am learning as well. Just keep up the good work... Flesh the story out, make it longer..

NW
 
S

Sorean

Ok, I would delete this post if I could because the entire play has been posted elsewhere. I renamed it as A Poet's Tale. All five ACTS can be seen in Scrips and Plays section.
 

mammamaia

Senior Member
you CAN delete it... all you have to do is sign in, and then there will be an 'edit' button and an 'x' to delete the whole post at the top right of your post...
 

daniela

Senior Member
You cannot delete a post once it has been replied to. Sorean, if you contact a mod I am sure one of them would be happy to delete this topic for you.

--DM--
 
Top