demons: synopsis and extracts
characters:
|
One |
Female |
|
Two |
Female |
|
Three |
Male |
approximate running time:
50
minutes
synopsis:
Three
dark tales following a god-fearing daughter, a wife tormented by her violent
husband and a boy confronted by a stranger.
The stories are slowly brought together, leading to a terrifying climax
when the three characters witness the murder of a child at a deserted railway
station changing their lives forever.
extract one:
Three (excitedly) I’m eight years old and I’ve just made my
first kite. It’s brilliant. I’ve used some old cane I found in the garden
shed - dad won’t mind - and some old newspapers. I’ve tied some string on one end and a tail on the other. It’s got bits of milk bottle tops on it too,
to make it shiny. It’s brilliant. I’m eight years old and it’s the best thing
in the whole wide world. And I want to
fly it today. (pause) And mum won’t let
me.
He
pauses. Dead pan, he briefly imitates
his mother.
“It’s starting to get dark. Fly it tomorrow. You
don’t want the bogeyman to get you, do you?”
His
voice and face return to that of a sulky child.
(long) No ...
(beat) But I want to fly my kite.
He steps forward, as if to confide and limit who can
hear, his voice dropping to a loud whisper
And when she’s not looking - she’s feeding my baby
brother or something - I run out the door.
My kite tucked under my arm. (louder) And make my way towards the park. I’ll only be gone five minutes.
She won’t notice. And it’s not
really dark. Yet. And I’ll go straight home. And I won’t talk to anybody. (excitedly) And I run down the street as fast as
anything and it’s starting to get really windy and my kite is under my arm and
it’s brilliant. And then I start to fly
it. And it really is brilliant! The kite flies about the sky like a bird or
an aeroplane. Higher and higher and
higher I let it go. Chasing after its
shadow, until I have no string left. And I pull it back, slowly, carefully, so as
not to get it tangled or broken.
A
beat. His face drops.
And then I remember my mum. And the time. And I’ve
got to get home before she notices ... she must have noticed. I’ve been gone ages and it’s really dark now
and I bet she’s worrying. (beat)
And slowly, with my kite under my arm, I start making my way home.
extract two:
Two (buoyant) I was fifteen. Fifteen years old. (beat)
And I had a boyfriend. My first
boyfriend. Well, my first real
boyfriend. (beat) And he had a
car. Nothing flash. But it was his car and he was my boyfriend
and I loved him. (beat) And my mother didn’t
approve. He wasn’t allowed in the house
and I had to be in by nine. But I still
saw him. You know, early evenings and
weekends. But not Sunday mornings, of
course! (beat) He made me feel so good. Like an adult. So good. For once in my
life I wasn’t my mother’s daughter. I
was me and it was great. It was great!
Her
face is frozen.
And then he had the accident.
Slowly
her face relaxes, before continuing to speak.
Mother said it was a sign from God that that his car
came off the road and hit the wall.
That we just weren’t meant to be.
It was a sign. I would only have
got hurt. (pause) But I was
hurt. I loved him and he was dead. I loved him and he was dead. I loved him and he ...
Her
eyes close for a seconds.
I hid my tears.
I never cried. You know, I
didn’t even go to the funeral. There
was no point. No point. (pause) If there’s a God why did he let this
happen? How could he sit back and watch
me suffer? Mother said it was an act to
test my faith. A sign! But how can good come out of an act so
evil? How? Tell me how? (pause)
You know, I still believe in God.
I met him once. But I can’t
trust Him. Not now. Not now.
extract three:
One Thirty
seven years ago and I’m at my wedding.
Eighteen next month and I’m getting married to the most incredible man
in the world. Eh? Strong.
Caring. Good looking too! And I’m dressed all in white and everybody
is watching us dancing around the reception, kissing and cuddling. And I feel like I want it to go on for ever.
A
beat. Just slightly, she ages.
Seven years on and he’s probably down the pub with some
of his mates. Girls too probably. Bastard.
(beat) And I’m sat at home with three kids screaming the bloody
house down blue murder. (beat)
The place is turning into a right tip too. I just don’t have a chance to tidy up. Or the energy. I spend my
spare time cleaning other peoples homes to pay the bills. And he does nothing to help. Apart from spending his wages down the
pub. The pub. (pause) Not that I really have much to do with
him anymore. Not really. I mean, he’s in the house, we share a bed
even, (beat) but we don’t talk.
Not properly. (pause)
We … make love. But we don’t
talk anymore. We don’t talk.
A
beat. She ages once more.
Twelve years on and the kids have all left. (long
pause) And then he comes home and
tells me that he’s lost his job. I
start crying and saying what on earth
are we going to do about the bills, eh?
And then he slowly puts his hand on my cheek. Touching me. And then he
does something he’s never done before. (beat)
He hits me. Strikes me across
the face. And I say nothing. I’m stunned. Silent. And then he
punches me in the stomach and I double up on the floor. Pain.
I’m in so much ... And then he
kicks me. Twice. And I scream like I’ve never screamed. (beat) And he says nothing. Smiles.
Almost. And then stares for a
second, before walking upstairs to bed.
(pause) And blood and tears cover my hands.
A
pause. Older, she composes herself,
before speaking.
Ten years on and I haven’t seen the kids for years. I haven’t seen anybody for years. I feel so alone. He never leaves the house.
Watches my every move. He’s shut
everybody else out and shut me in. And
still the beatings continue … (pause)
And then he died. Suddenly. Died.
Just died. (beat) And I thought I’d be
pleased. Somehow grateful. Finally alone. Free. (pause)
Almost.
© Matthew Wilkie
47 West Avenue, Farnham, Surrey, GU9 0RB, England
Tel:07710 505806 (+44 7710 505806)
Email: matthew.wilkie@ntlworld.com
Click
here to link to www.matthewwilkie.co.uk.