The Blizzard Continues

CHARACTERS

Rōnin – a younger incarnation, the city-goer.

Conscience

 

SETTING

 

A dark space.

 

 

NOTES:

 

- Denotes an interruption.

/    Denotes that the next line is spoken over that one.

 

The strange order of dialogue is to investigate pacing and pauses.

 

 

                        BLACKOUT.

 

                        A FAINT SLICE OF LIGHT APPEARS. A BEER BOTTLE ROLLS DOWNSTAGE, RESTING IN THE GLOOM.

 

                        To drown in the light

                        Is like falling from the sun –

                        It is strangely cold.

 

                        LIGHTS, LIKE VEHICLE HEADLIGHTS, FLASH ACROSS THE STAGE. IN THESE FLEETING MOMENTS WE CATCH A                             GLIMPSE OF RŌNIN.

 

                        FROM OFFSTAGE, THERE IS A CRASH, A MUFFLED CRESCENDO OF BROKEN GLASS. THE LIGHT BECOMES A                                   WARM AMBER, REVEALING RŌNIN SPRAWLED AMONGST SHARDS, TRAPPED IN A WRANGLED,                                                         EXPRESSIONISTIC FORM OF WHAT WAS ONCE A CAR. SOUND OF GASOLINE POURING FROM A WOUND. THE                                   LIGHT THROBS.

 

                        RŌNIN STIRS. HE IS CUT AND BRUISED. EXHAUSTED. DAZED, HE LOOKS AROUND; TRIES TO GET UP. FAILS. HIS                           EYES DRIFT SHUT, LOSING CONSCIOUSNESS. HE FALLS BACK DOWN.

 

Conscience:     (OFFSTAGE) Get up.

                        We have to.

                        We have to get up.

                                                Now.

 

                                                                        Now.

 

Rōnin:              I can’t. My leg it’s – I can’t move.

 

                        CONSCIENCE APPEARS IN THE AUDIENCE. AS THEY SPEAK, THEY SLOWLY MOVE TOWARDS THE STAGE.

 

Conscience:     Try. We must try.

                                                            Get up.

 

                        RŌNIN STIRS.

 

Conscience:     Come on, move. We can’t stay here.

 

                        RŌNIN STIRS; GLANCES UP, OUT OF WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN THE FRONT WINDSHIELD. THERE IS A CRATER IN                         THE PASSENGER SIDE. SOMETHING CATCHES HIS EYE.

 

Conscience:     No.

 

Rōnin:              What?

 

Conscience:     No, we can’t look – we can’t – don’t – not that way. Just go. Get up.

 

Rōnin:              I can’t.

 

Conscience:     We must.

 

                        THERE IS A CRACKLE AND POP. THE AMBER GLOW RAGES WARMER, ORANGE. THE LIGHT BEGINS TO FLICKER.

 

Rōnin:              The car –

 

Conscience:     There’re flames.

 

Rōnin:              I – What happened?

 

Conscience:     It doesn’t matter. Get up.

 

Rōnin:              My leg. I can’t.

 

Conscience:     We can.

 

                        RŌNIN TRIES TO FREE HIS LEG.

 

Rōnin:              I can smell it, the /flames.

 

Conscience:     /Flames.

 

Rōnin:              How – ?

 

Conscience:     Come on, just go.

 

Rōnin:              (PRIZING AT HIS LEG) Nearly.

 

Conscience:     Come /on

 

Rōnin:              /Nearly.

 

                        HIS LEG COMES FREE. THERE IS ANOTHER POP LIKE MOLTEN RUBBER. THE FLAMES SPARK AND RAGE.

 

Rōnin:              There.

                                                It’s close.

 

Conscience:     Go.

                               Then go.

 

Rōnin:              What – what is that?

 

                        SOMETHING ACROSS THE BLACKNESS HAS CAUGHT RONIN’S ATTENTION. HE TREMBLES.

 

Conscience:     We need to go.

 

Rōnin:              That, what is it?

 

Conscience:     Don’t look.

 

Rōnin:              What happened?

 

                        EMERGENCY SERVICES SIRENS. BLUE AND WHITE AND RED LIGHT. THE FIRE INCREASES. VOCIFEROUS.

 

Rōnin:              What is it?

                                                I must /know

 

Conscience:     /No.

 

Rōnin:              What did I – what’s happened?

 

Conscience:     No.

 

Rōnin:              Please say –

 

Conscience:     No.

 

Rōnin:              No, please.

 

                        RŌNIN DRAGS HIMSELF FROM THE DEBRIS. PANIC BUILDS WITHIN HIM.

 

Conscience:     Let’s go.

 

Rōnin:              No, please say I didn’t – didn’t.

                                                                        No, please.

 

                        A LIGHT FADES UP ON THE DARKNESS, REVEALING A SHROUDED FORM. AS IT DOES, SNOW WHIPS ACROSS AND                         MINGLES WITH THE PULSING LIGHT. MORE OF THE SHROUDED FORM IS REVEALED SLOWLY. BEHIND, THE                                   FLAMES ARE GREATER. AND THE SIREN IS LOUDER, MORE INTENSE.

 

                        CONSCIENCE IS NEARLY ONSTAGE, SHOUTING AS THE AUDIENCE DOES WHEN SOMEONE DOESN’T RUN WHEN                           THEY SHOULD.

 

Rōnin:              It can’t be.

 

Conscience:     Please, we need to go.

 

                        RŌNIN LOOKS AT THE BODY. CRYING OUT, HE FALLS TO HIS KNEES.

 

Rōnin:              Oh… God, no.

                                                Wh – wh (HE CHOKES ON THE WORD) Why?

                       

                                                Why were you – ?

 

                        HIS HEAD FALLS INTO HIS HANDS.

 

                        THE BLANKET OF SNOW IS TORN OFF BY THE WIND. WHAT APPEARS TO BE A LITTLE GIRL IS REVEALED.

 

                        CONSCIENCE, NOW ONSTAGE, TURNS TO THE AUDIENCE.

 

Conscience:     (TO AUDIENCE) We left, but it didn’t leave us.

 

                        BLACKOUT.

 

                        WHEN THE LIGHTS COME BACK, OLDER RŌNIN IS OUTSIDE HIS TEMPLE. HE DIGS A GRAVE IN THE FROZEN                                   EARTH AND BURIES THE SMALL FORM OF WHAT IS A LOT MORE TO HIM THAN A GOAT.

           

THE END