Graveyard Journey

CAST:

GIRL 1

GIRL 2

OLD MAN

AUNT MARGO

SIMON

AUNT ROSALIE

GARY

WIFE

Two Girls: GIRL ONE and GIRL TWO.  Both are of the same age (around 16-20). They’re in a park, sitting at a bench and table enjoying each other’s company and the picnic that they have packed.  An OLD MAN, who is a portly and kindly old man (in his 60s) is walking and admiring the scenery around him.  He is in a wonderful mood.  He has been travelling on the road for a while now and is appreciative of the fact that he now gets to stretch his legs and breath some fresh clean air.  He’s smiling and spots the girls.  He’s in the mood for a conversation.

OLD MAN: Not bad for the middle of winter, hey?

GIRL 1: (cheerfully) Not everyday you get to enjoy a picnic in the middle of the season.

GIRL 2: Still cold though.

GIRL 1: Yeah, but, it could be worse.  Least it’s not raining.

OLD MAN: Well, can’t complain with weather like this can you?   I know we need the rain and all, but strike me down if I don’t feel guilty for not enjoying the sun.

GIRL 1: Gotta enjoy things while they last.

OLD MAN: That’s true enough.

(There is an awkward pause as the man becomes lost in his thoughts.  The girls are unsure of whether to continue on with their picnic, because although the small talk between them has ended, the OLD MAN is still standing next to them.  It would be rude to continue eating under these circumstances.  Well, maybe not rude, but you would feel strange to eat and have a conversation with a stranger within earshot and not invite them to join.)

OLD MAN: I don’t usually come down here to these parts.  Well, it’s been a long time for me.  40 years it’s been.  I can’t really tell you why it is that I haven’t come down here in that time.  Could have been work, or trouble with the family.  These days I like to travel. I think of myself as a man of the world.  The war had a bit to do with that.  Seen me go to Indonesia, China and Hong Kong. Just got back from Nashville not long ago.  Well, a year ago.  But things have seen me go on a different journey.

(The sound of a phone begins to ring The OLD MAN seems to hear the ringing and is perturbed by it, yet the GIRLS do not respond to the noise.  They don’t go looking for the source or location of the sound.)

OLD MAN: It all started with the phone call.  My mother just   died not long ago you see, and the phone had been ringing off the hook.  Good friends of mine ringing to see if I was alright, if I had been eating properly, how I was holding up.  ‘I’m fine’ I kept telling them.  ‘There’s no problem with me.  It was a bit of a shock, but when it’s your time to go you just can’t do anything about it you see’.  So when the phone rang, you can imagine my surprise when I hear me nephew down the other end.

(Sound of the phone being picked up, the ringing stops, and the OLD MAN begins to talk to his nephew SIMON, although the girls can only hear the OLD MAN’s side of the conversation.)

OLD MAN: ‘Simon’, I said, ‘what are you doing calling?  I didn’t expect to hear from you! I’m sorry I wasn’t the one to break the news for you’.

SIMON: What news?

OLD MAN: My mum, Simon.  My mum’s dead.

(The GIRLS are struck by the news)

GIRL 1: I’m so sorry

GIRL 2: Did you want to sit down?

(The OLD MAN doesn’t hear them and continues his conversation with SIMON)

SIMON: Well that’s funny.

OLD MAN: Why’s that?

SIMON: My mum’s dying.

OLD MAN: Oh no, not Margo. No.  What’s wrong with her?

SIMON: Cancer.  They say she’s got 2 weeks to live.

OLD MAN: When did they say this?

SIMON: Around three days ago.

(AUNT MARGO appears in this conversation, however only the OLD MAN can hear her.)

SIMON: She wants to see you.  When’s the soonest you can come down?

OLD MAN: I don’t know Simon.  I have to bury Mumfirst, I don’t know how long that will take.

SIMON: Well, you’ll have to do it quick as you can, she hasn’t got long left with us.

AUNT MARGO: What happened?

SIMON: His mother died.

AUNT MARGO: His mother?  My sister?

SIMON: Well, if it’s his mother, mum, I believe it would be your sister.

AUNT MARGO: What of?

SIMON: Pardon?

AUNT MARGO: What of!  What did she die of?

SIMON: (back into the phone to OLD MAN) What did she die of?

OLD MAN: Who?

SIMON: Your mum.

OLD MAN: Cancer.

SIMON: (To AUNT MARGO) Cancer.

AUNT MARGO: Well tell him it was her time to go.  The old crow had it coming I’m the one who doesn’t have a choice in it.  He’s made his peace with her, he needs to come and make peace with mine.  It’s time.  Tell him it’s time.  And hurry up.

(Leaves)

SIMON: Did you hear that?

OLD MAN: Yes but—

SIMON: We’ll see you when you can get here.

OLD MAN: So there was nothing for it you see, I had to bury mum and rush on over to see Aunty Margo. But in the middle of the rush I thought ‘bugger the old bitch.’ She was a bitch to me and she was a bitch to mum.

GIRL 1: That’s a bit mean.  Is she sick?

GIRL 2: (quietly to GIRL 1) Who’s sick?

GIRL 1: I don’t know.  Margo?

OLD MAN: Doesn’t bother me, I’m sure she’ll still be there when I get there.

(pause)

Burying your family, it makes you think about your own life.  You look back on some memories that have stuck around with you and you begin to think of what you need, and what’s important.  I need to find my family.  I need to remember.  It’s getting harder with the days and years going past me.

(long pause as the OLD MAN looses himself in deep thought)

GIRL 2: Do you know anyone here? Is there anyone we can call for you?  You can borrow my phone.

OLD MAN: What?  Oh!  No love, thank you anyway, but me great nephew knows I’m on my way.  He’s a lawyer—very proud of him, got me out of a few pickles, love my firearms you see.  Legal firearms mind you, but if you have firearms, you’ve got to take them out and use them, no use sitting on your wall gathering dust.  Was going to take one of them out and use it on my ex son-in-law you see.  He bashed my daughter and my 3-month-old grandson within an inch of their life.

GIRL 1: 3 MONTHS OLD!

OLD MAN: Oh yes.  He was an evil bastard, and a slippery one too.  Would have got away with it too, if it wasn’t for my great- nephew, Frank.  Once he heard a whisper of what was going on, he drove straight to my daughter’s side, and fought for that bastard to be locked up. Also made sure that I got full custody of the child.  My daughter had a nervous break-down after the bashing you see, she needed to be taken care of, but she needed a hospital, we just couldn’t do anything for her then, she was too far gone— much better now, but at the time, she was just no good to anyone.  ‘Don’t worry’, I told her, ‘you take care of yourself, we’ve got the baby, and Frank’s here to make sure that bastard stay’s well away from us for good.  And mark my words Frank’ I told him, ‘mark my words, he comes anywhere near me, I’ll shoot him right between the eyes.’

GIRL 2: I don’t think anyone would blame you if you did.

OLD MAN: Frank said it wasn’t such a good idea.  I tend to agree with him.  Why waste good ammunition on trash like that?  He’s in jail now, and we won’t be hearing from him for a long time.

GIRL 1: So Frank lives here?

OLD MAN: Yes.  Well, not far from here anyway. This was on the way through to his place.  No, I came here because this is where many of my earliest memories come from.  This has become a graveyard journey of sorts you see.  When I buried my mother, I immediately thought of her parents, my grand-parents. She’s not resting anywhere near them.  She’s next to my dad, and that’s how she wanted it to be, but I’ve always thought well of my grandparents.  I went looking through the family photo album and realised that I just didn’t have one photo of them.  I thought to myself ‘how could that be?’ and I’m still wracking my brain trying to figure it out.  So I need to see Frank, because I think he might have them— the photos that is.  My Aunt Rosalie, Franks mother, you see, she kept all the sentimental things.  Which is funny, because she never struck me for a person who held onto things to well.

(AUNT ROSALIE enters and again the same thing happens as with AUNT MARGO and SIMON.  The OLD MAN can hear them, yet the girls can’t comprehend who he’s speaking to.)

AUNT ROSALIE: Come on in then, time for tea.

OLD MAN: She’d cook some of the best roasts you’ve ever had in your life.

AUNT ROSALIE: Did you hear me then?  Or do I need to repeat myself.

OLD MAN: She hated repeating herself you see. But she had no need to.  The smell alone was enough to get you running to the table before she called. I’d sit there stuffing my face.  One particular night, the roast was so good I had a second helping.

AUNT ROSALIE: You eat it slowly, now, you’ve got more work to do in the barns before bed.  The hay needs changing.

OLD MAN: It wasn’t a big farm, so the chores weren’t too labour intensive.  I was happy to do it.  I love animals, there’s no greater thing for a person to have in their life than a pet.  But when I had the second helping of that roast—

AUNT ROSALIE: Good news is, you won’t need to worry about Blackie’s pen tonight.

OLD MAN: Blackie was my lamb you see.  It wasn’t really my pet, but the wee thing took to me as if I were it’s own mother, and I loved it dearly.

GIRL 1: Oh no!

AUNT ROSALIE: What on earth are you crying for? You were happily chewing away a minute ago.  You’re doing the meat now favour, crying all over it.  It’s disrespectful to the beast.

OLD MAN: From that moment on, I made sure I wasn’t so attached to things.  Sentimental things, I suppose.  But it’s different now.

(beat)

I think Frankie has the photos, she would have left them to Frankie.  She died while I was away in Nashville, and nobody told me till I came back.  I don’t even know where she’s buried.  I’ll have to ask Frankie.  It would be good to get those photos and pay my respects.

GIRL 2: It’s a pretty emotional road trip. Don’t you find it depressing?  Visiting all these graveyards?

OLD MAN: My people decorate these graveyards.  They were some of the most influential people who founded this town.  It’s changed a lot since then.  I expected that, but I didn’t expect everything to change. I went to the visit my grandparent’s gravesite with my wife, she’s with me on this trip; ‘you need a second person on a journey like this’ she insisted.  I wouldn’t have minded going on my own, but what she says goes.

GIRL 1: Where is she?

OLD MAN: (not hearing the question) We went to see my grandparent’s plot, and if it wasn’t for the sheer fate of running into Gary there, I wouldn’t have known what was going on.

(GARY emerges, the same as the Aunts and SIMON, a figment of the OLD MAN’s memory, unseen and unheard by the girls)

GARY: It’s been a while mate, how are you?

OLD MAN: Gary! One of the last people I’d expect to see.  I thought you’d be long gone from here.  You dad your sights set beyond these shores.

GARY: Well, things don’t always work out the way we plan.

OLD MAN: True, true, too true.

GARY: Good thing you bumped into me here, though.  Lot of things have changed since you’ve been gone.  Wouldn’t be visiting any relatives here by any chance?

OLD MAN: I’m here to see my nan and pop.

GARY: Well, they’ve been moved.

OLD MAN: What do you mean they’ve been moved?

GIRL 2: Easy now.

OLD MAN: How can you move such a thing?

GIRL 1: Do you want a glass of water?

GIRL 2: I don’t think that’s going to do him any good.

GARY: Council thought it’d be a good idea.  Making way for the new folk to be buried. Don’t worry mate, you’re grandparent’s are still where you left them, but their tomb-stones are over there.

OLD MAN: Well, where do I go?  Do I stand where they’re buried, or do I lay the flowers where the rock is? This is ridiculous.

GARY: I know it’s hard, but we’ve all adjusted mate.

OLD MAN: They moved them.  They moved the stone from one end of the cemetery to the other.  Not even remotely near to where they used to be.  Now, I understand making room for the others who want to rest their bones near their home, but a little dignity.  We’ve all got to share this land.  I mean at the end of the day isn’t it what this is all about?

GIRL 1: So where did you lay them? Where did you put the flowers?

(The Old Man’s WIFE enters.  The Girls can both see and hear her.)

WIFE: There you are you old sod, I was wondering where you got to.

OLD MAN: The photo.  I need to have the photo.  I don’t even have a picture of them.

WIFE: It’s alright love, we’re going to see Frank remember?  Perhaps he will have something we can have.

(To the Girls)

I’m terribly sorry if he bothered you.

GIRL 1: Oh, that’s ok.

GIRL 2: t wasn’t a big deal.  He was interesting to talk to.

WIFE: Yes, tells a lot of stories this one.

OLD MAN: I don’t even have a picture.

GIRL 1: Is he going to be ok?  Do you need us to do anything for you?

WIFE: Oh no, love.  I think he’s been having a lot on his mind of late and just needed to get a few things off his chest.  It seems like you were good enough to listen.

OLD MAN: I need to be able to see them.

WIFE: And you will love.

(To Girls)

He has a bit of a nasty tumour in the head you see.  We found out not long ago, and he doesn’t have much time left.  The stress of it, and having family drop off here and there has been a bit much for him.

(To OLD MAN)

Alright love, back to the car, we’ve got a long way to go yet, and I’m driving.  No arguments.

(To Girls)

Thanks again girls.

GIRL 1: Don’t mention it.

GIRL 2: It was nothing.

OLD MAN: Good-bye.

END.

Rock and a hard place

A conversation between two people (MARION and DUNCAN) discussing a current event:

(MARION and DUNCAN sit in the tea room at their place of work.  MARION is making a cup of tea and looking for biscuits, whilst DUNCAN is reading the paper.)

DUNCAN: (with a snarl) Phwar. Have you read this?

MARION: (looking briefly over her shoulder) I did have a glance this morning yes.  (head in the pantry) Why? Have you found something interesting?

DUNCAN: It’s just this article.

MARION: (with her head still in the pantry) Well, you’ll have to tell me about it, I’m kind of busy at the moment.

DUNCAN: It’s about that french bird who did the titty show on top of Ayres Rock.

MARION: (finding the biscuits) You mean Uluru.

DUNCAN: Yeah, the rock.

MARION: It’s not a rock, it’s Uluru.

DUNCAN: Call it what you want, to me it will always be a rock.

MARION: (sighs) Well, what about it?

DUNCAN: Well, there’s just a bit of a blow out over what the girl did, saying it’s disrespectful.

MARION: Well it is.

DUNCAN: How so?

MARION: Personally, I find that sort public exhibition quite offensive.

DUNCAN: But she did it on top of a rock.  Looked like no one was there.

MARION: She did it on a sacred landmark.

DUNCAN: What’s so sacred about it?

MARION: It’s sacred to the Aboriginal people, that’s enough.

DUNCAN: Well, it’s not just their’s, it’s an Australian landmark.

MARION: I’m not even going to begin to try to go down that road with you, but on the matter at hand, she did something she shouldn’t have.

DUNCAN: Why?

MARION: Because it’s a cultural landmark that has strong spiritual significance to some people. It doesn’t matter if you feel the same way, if there are people who find it sacred, you should pay it the proper respect.

DUNCAN: That doesn’t make any sense.

MARION: Are you catholic?

DUNCAN: No.

MARION: So would you go and perform a strip show in a church under the statue of The Virgin Mary and then show the video to the priest?

DUNCAN: Come on, bit harsh isn’t it?

MARION: Well it’s the same thing to what she’s done?

DUNCAN: Yeah, but she didn’t do it in a church, she did it on a rock.

MARION: It’s not just a rock!

DUNCAN: I know I know, the Aboriginal people say its sacred.  But the Aboriginal people think everything is sacred.

MARION: That’s because for them, all land is sacred.

DUNCAN: It’s a load of horse shit. This land is Australian land, for all Australian’s.  The rock isn’t sacred to me.  My point counts.

MARION: Have you ever been to see Uluru?

DUNCAN: No.

MARION: So on that point, you can shut the fuck up.

(MARION leaves with her tea)

THE END.

Dom’s Script

A writing exercise I did whilst away.  The task:  Two characters.  One has a book, and the other one wants it.

CAST

STEVEN: A 15 year old in the body of a 27-year-old man.  He prides himself of being the joker, and is able to get along with anybody very easily.  However, he is not afraid to do anything it takes to look out for himself and his best interests.

DOM: 25 years old, ambitious, yet kind and easy to get along with.  Likes to stay out of trouble, yet finds himself in all sorts when around STEVEN.

SCENE:

The kitchen of STEVEN and DOM’s house.

(DOM is at the kitchen table reading over a bound script, which he has just written.  He is smiling to himself, scoring away at the paper.  This is a proud moment for him, and he’s excited at the prospect of producing an original work on his own. STEVEN enters in the kitchen from his bedroom.  He yawns as he makes his way to the sink to find a relatively clean mug to pour his morning coffee.  He turns the kettle on, and has he waits for the water to boil.  As he yawns, he scratches himself and spots DOM at the table)

STEVE:  Hey man, didn’t see you there.

DOM: Morning

STEVE:  What you up to?

DOM: Nothing much.

(DOM is obviously trying to avoid any small talk with STEVE, but STEVE is not having it.)

STEVE: What is that? A script?

DOM: (reluctantly answering) Ah, sort of, yeah.

STEVE:  What do you mean sort of?  It’s either a script or it’s not.

DOM: (sighs) Yes, it’s a script,

STEVE:  Cool.  See, that wasn’t so hard was it.  (pours himself a coffee)  Where did you get it?

DOM:  Well, I wrote it.

STEVE:  Seriously?

DOM: Seriously

STEVE:  That’s great man; can I take a look at it?

DOM: (hesitates) Um, I’m not really ready to give it to anyone yet.

STEVE:  Oh come on man, it’s me you’re talking to here.

DOM: Yeah, I know, but still.  I don’t want to give it to anyone.

STEVE: Well, I’ll end up reading it anyway.

(DOM doesn’t answer, and keeps his head down on the script.  STEVE continues drinking his coffee, and is fixated on DOM.)

STEVE:  So what’s it about?

DOM: What?

STEVE:  Your script.  What’s it about?

DOM:  I don’t want to talk about it with you man.

STEVE:  You’re seriously going to be this way?

DOM:  Since when did I have to show you everything that I do?  Some things I want to keep to myself.

STEVE: Whoa!  Alright buddy calm down.

DOM:  Well, leave it alone.  I’m not showing you my script and that’s that.

STEVE:   Alright.  I get it.  Enough said.  Calm down.

DOM:  Good. Then drop it.

STEVE:   Then calm down.

DOM:  Then drop it.

STEVE:   Then calm down.

DOM:  I am calm

STEVE:  You’re calm?

DOM: Calm as.

STEVE:  Alright.  Good to know.

(There’s quiet.  DOM goes back to reading his script, but STEVE is plotting.)

STEVE:  Have you had a coffee?

DOM:  What?

STEVE:   Have you had a coffee yet?

DOM:  I’m alright, thanks.

STEVE:  You want a tea?

DOM:  No.

STEVE:  Water? Juice? Cordia—

DOM:  STEVE!  I’m alright!  Let it go.

STEVE:  (pause) I’ll get you a water.

(DOM glares at him, and leaves the room in a huff leaving the script behind.  STEVE gets water from the tap into the glass and rummages through the medicine cabinet.  He finds a dissolvable fibre powder and pours a large amount into the glass as he giggles to himself.  He places the glass by DOM’s script and takes a quick glance through it.)

STEVE:  Unfinished my arse.

(He hears the sound of DOM coming back and scrambles to close the script.  He runs back to his coffee mug and pours himself another cup.)

STEVE: Where did you go?

(DOM enters and eyes off STEVE suspiciously as he notices the glass of water by his script.  STEVE acts innocently, and sits down by the table to with his second cup of coffee.)

DOM: Left something in the car.

STEVE: (points at the water)  Consider it my peace-offering.  You’re right.  I shouldn’t be harassing you to give me something you’re not ready for me to read.  I’m sorry.

DOM:   That’s pretty big of you mate.  Apology accepted.  And I’m sorry.

STEVE:  Hey that’s alright man, no big deal.  If it were me, I’d be touchy too.

DOM:   No, I mean I’m really sorry.

STEVE:   Don’t mention it.

DOM:  I’m not talking about the script.

STEVE:   What are you talking about?

DOM:  Your car.

(STEVE opens the kitchen window next to the table and looks out to the adjoining car port.)

STEVE:  Dom!  Where the fuck is my car.

DOM:  (With a sly smile)  I must have kicked the brick from under the tyre by accident.  It was too late before I could do anything about it, with this being a steep hill we live on and all.  Now, I could be mistaken Steve, but as luck, and the wind, would have it, I think your car make have rolled down that hill and into the creek over there.

STEVE:  Jesus Christ Dom!

(STEVE runs out of the room to go after his car and DOM sits down to his script)

DOM: (sighs)  Finally some peace and quiet.  (gulps down the glass of water) Sabotage is thirsty work.  Oh!  That’s a good one. (writes the line down in the script.)

(DOM reads the script for a few seconds before he feels a rumble in his stomach.)

DOM:  That doesn’t feel too good.

(A few seconds later, he runs to the toilet leaving the script by he open window, which is taken away by a strong gust of wind.)

THE END.

Diary of an Eccentric Loner

This story is inspired by an actual event.  One day, in about the third week of the first uni semester, a strange lone man entered our class and casually took a seat.  He looked like he had a rough day.  His hair was all over the place, he had large bags under his eyes, and he was dressed in black from head to toe.  When I first saw him, I thought that he was a guest speaker for the class.  But then I thought that a guest speaker would have some sort of speech in tow, or at least be carrying a little USB drive, this man was just carrying a plastic bag, and it didn’t look like it had anything in it.  So I just came to the conclusion that he must be trying out different classes before the census date, and was using this lesson as a trial, to see if it was worth enrolling in.  He wasn’t hurting anyone, he seemed harmless enough, nobody asked him his name, not even the lecturer, and he even participated in the class discussion.   Basically, he sort of, kind of, blended in.  But after that class, nobody we never saw him again.  Turns out, this man wasn’t a university student, he was just a random who liked to walk through the uni campus, and just attend any old class he felt like.  I must say, I’ve been sad not have seen this man since that strange day in class, but tonight, while driving home from The Emerging Writers’ Festival, I saw him.  I saw him walking down Alexandra Parade, with his little plastic bag.  I almost wanted to follow him, just to see where he lived.  I know, that’s creepy.  Whats more so, is that I wanted to follow him for more than just an hour, I want to follow this man for an entire day!  But, seeing as that would make me somewhat strange, and perhaps put me in a bit of trouble, I’ll just have to settle for my imagination.  Here is a journal of his life.

MONDAY:

Went to school today.  Felt like learning Math.  Needed something concrete after the waffle I heard in first year philosophy.  I don’t know why I do it to myself.  I thought it would be entertaining.  I thought wrong.  It was interesting though, seeing the new crop of first years having their fantasies, and life as they know it, shut to pieces.  Happens every time.  I used to find this funny, but now it’s just plain sad.  They’re losing their will to fight.  They’re too becoming too passive.  To complacent.  I fear for them.

Math calmed me down.

TUESDAY:

Went to a marketing class today.  A post grad marketing class.  Kind of fun.  The lecture was on blogging.  The guest speaker was actually doing his PhD on blogging.  Whilst the session was interesting, I think they neglected to go into further insight into the medium.  The whole three hours seemed to have been a crash course in blogging.  Surprised as to how many in the class actually didn’t have a blog.  Seems like I have found a sample of the Gen Y population who are not even characteristic of Gen Y.  I should do my PhD.

WEDNESDAY:

Skipped school as it was a nice day, thought I would sit in the Botany Garden instead.  Someone threw money in the plastic bag.  I buried it in the ground.  Money doesn’t grow on trees but that doesn’t mean you can’t find it in the most peculiar of places.  I wish I had a camera to capture the moment someone finds that $5.00 note.  I wonder what it would mean to them?

THURSDAY:

Skipped  school again.  Too many people, needed my space.  Needed time to think.

FRIDAY:

Went to a night class.  It’s the last week of semester.  Every class I went to today had cakes and Coke.  Went to walk it off tonight.  Lovely night.  A tad crisp.  It’s funny though.  I have the strangest sensation that someone is following me…