The CTR Anthology Read online

  Man: You fool! (Pause.) Anyone see you?

  The Son shakes head listlessly.

  The Man looks at him, then out the window once more, then slowly moves in, more relaxed.

  The Son sadly lifts himself up on a chair.

  The Man stares at him as he produces a cigarette from his pocket.

  Son tries not to stare back, but finally musters up the gumption to return the stare.

  The Man blankly wipes some sweat off his neck and continues staring back.

  The sound of the waves can be heard once more in the distance.

  The stares are interrupted when the Mother slowly walks in from bedroom, her faded pink night robe on.

  The Son sees her. She sees him. The Son dares not accuse her in the presence of the Man but his thoughts are plainly accusatory. His eyes angry at her treachery.

  The Mother guiltily looks the other way as she reaches the window. But she knows she must face him sooner or later and bravely turns to look at him once more and sees underneath his moist angry tears, his deep sorrow.

  He no longer accuses but asks “why?” and even “what did he make you do?” as he dazedly approaches her.

  The Man tenses and steps forward menacingly. The Son stops and backs impotent ly.

  The Mother melts and decides to go over by her Son’s side, the side where she really belongs, but the Man grabs her left arm and brutally yanks her over next to him, and feeling extra big, gives the Son a look of utter contempt.

  Man: I don’t want you here. C’mon, c’mon scram.

  Son: Why don’t you just shoot me, buster?

  The Man continues to stare at him for a while. He then stubs out his cigarette and gets up, about to go into bedroom, when he stops dead in his tracks.

  A slight shuffling noise, from around the crates (downstage left), from in particular a large crate which is draped and covered completely.

  More shuffling noises.

  Cross fade sound of waves out and into the jingly shuffling percussion sounds of menace.

  Music: Suite Revenge; Part D: “Last Stop” (excerpt)

  All tense up in fear.

  The Mother, the Son slowly back off slightly.

  The Man slowly walks forward to crate.

  The shrill music punctuates the ominous mystery as the Man, with one fell swoop, removes the drape and hurls it aside to reveal a metal cage, and within, on all fours – a woman – circling around in the narrow cage, now startled. In long dark purple lacy skirt and turn of century long sleeved, three sizes too large, blouse. Somehow it looks incredibly erotic. The woman, early twenties, but still a baby in many ways, her speech for one, all words being variations of sounds like vij, sheesh, cheej, ffy, byy, etc. – is The Monkey.

  Brown lights envelop the cage, shrouding the rest of the room in deep gloom.

  The Monkey is happy at the sight of company as she meekly emits some friendly sounds at the Man.

  The Man, puzzled but more so shocked, looks at the Mother and Son for an explanation.

  They guiltily offer none.

  The Man cautiously approaches the cage for a closer look at her.

  She seems to be quite harmless and very friendly, exuding an innocent incomprehension as she crawls in her cage to him, placing face against bars.

  The Man crouches in front of her and looks at her.

  Friendly Monkey tentatively reaches out her arm from behind the bars, causing the Man to tense for a moment, and innocently, playfully holds his nose, making friendly, childish noises.

  The Man gently sways his face aside as she playfully persists to grab his nose.

  The Man thinks for a minute, then cautiously decides to open the door to the cage.

  The Mother and Son are horrified. The Son tries not to reveal it. The Mother can’t hide it.

  Son and Mother: Don’t!

  This sharp word causes the Man to stare at them and reconsider his decision as he sees their deep concern, but he feels the Monkey has been unjustly caged and continues unbolting door. He opens door wide and moves aside, beginning to feel scared himself.

  The Monkey sees the open door but is a little hesitant, scared. She backs away from the door slightly, but then, smiling meekly, she slowly, tentatively approaches the door. Stops. Looks at the Man. Continues crawling out into freedom.

  Outside the cage now she slowly turns around on all fours inspecting her new perspectives.

  She sees the cage. She sees the Man. She tentatively moves to him, smiling gently.

  She stops as she sees the Mother. She makes a slight move.

  The Mother tenses incredibly wanting to back off, too scared to do it.

  But Monkey stops again and changes direction as she sees the Son. With an extra happy smile she starts to crawl over to him.

  He parts window ever so slightly.

  The Son has not experienced any greater horror than this as he weakly, incredibly scared, terrified, face turned pale white, backs off.

  But

  She approaches – hand outstretched to him.

  He backs, backs, backs.

  She comes closer, closer, closer.

  The menace of the music peaks as the lights slowly fade to

  Black.

  The music continues as it slowly dissipates the menace in

  Black.

  SCENE FOUR: WATCHERS

  The previous music tapers off in slight tinkly sounds, as lights fade up on Son lying on couch, face out, eyes wide open, unable to sleep.

  Night.

  The door to the empty cage is open.

  The Son is somewhat in control of his fear. Nonetheless he is extremely tense and uneasy and wishes he weren’t alone (although he won’t admit it).

  He suddenly sits upright on couch.

  Long silence, as he stares out in worried thought. Suddenly glances to the right, in direction of arm chair.

  Music: The Lost Man (main title) Very faint.

  Bolts up, springs to chair, lifts cushion and produces a chocolate bar which he quickly unwraps and frenziedly takes a much needed bite.

  Still tense, when he abruptly stops mid-bite and stares intently at the cage.

  A mischievous smile, and he’s down on his knees at once, placing chunks of his chocolate bar on the floor in a sneaky trail that leads straight to the cage. Rapidly smearing the entrance of the cage with the bar, he then tosses rest of chocolate in cage and steps aside to inspect his trap.

  He looks warily at the cage. He looks at crates downstage right, and the exit.

  He paces along upstage wall, back and forth, restless, worried, tired. He sees the closed bedroom door. He becomes enraged once more. Stops by it, listens in. Volume of music slowly increases. Ominous creepy undertones becoming more and more pronounced.

  Peaking.

  Suddenly lights bang on outside the window from the deserted shack opposite.

  The music peaks again.

  The lights in the room markedly decrease, equally suddenly.

  The Son is still unaware as he continues pacing, when it hits him. He stops dead still. His widening eyes wanting to pop right out of his head, his whole body quivering, shaking.

  He suddenly turns, sees light as suspected, crashes his body away from front of window to side of it with a horrified jolt, sweat pouring out of his body.

  He wants to scream, still trying to reject the obvious fact of the light across.

  He looks to bedroom door, wincing for aid.

  He turns back to window.

  He tries to peer through cracks. Impossible.

  His shaky hand slowly, reluctantly grabs the latch.

  Should he, shouldn’t he. 0 cruel dilemma.

  He slowly undoes latch.

  Tries to peer through.

  Parts window slightly some more.

  Peers. Can’t see.

  Backs. Decision. Decision. Arms slowly move, hold shutters.

  Tension.

  Music shatters into another peak.

  Son crashes shutte
rs wide open very fast.

  The sight outside bolts his stunned body a mile back with the impact of sheer terror.

  The Son cries in fear, helpless horrified fear.

  A woman, the Other Woman – naked, dead, her left side, her guts bloodied, tied up by her arms to a rope suspended from above, head lolled to side, immobile.

  The Son’s wailing cry is ripped out of his guts into a prolonged terrified soul-splitting scream as he jumps forward, slams shutters shut, stays there a moment and crashes to his knees, intensifying his crazy scream.

  The bedroom door is flung open as the Man and the Mother rush out. The Man with gun in hand.

  Both horrified and electrified for a moment at the shock of seeing the light.

  The Man then suddenly rushes to the Son and hurls him away from in front of the window, crashing his own body against the wall to the side of the window. He takes a cautious peek and looks at the Mother seeking refuge on opposite side of window. The Man tentatively reaches out his hand to open the window, impulsive decision, zooms to it and flings shutters open, as he bolts backwards.

  Both the Mother and the Man see the Other Woman tied up, dead.

  Shock.

  The Man just stands there dumb-founded.

  The Mother dazedly unknowingly stumbles towards the window, strangely drawn forward by the sight, drawn by a dangerous magnet.

  The Man immediately grabs her and tosses her back on the couch.

  The music peaks again.

  The Other Woman suddenly lifts her head up in one smooth rise and stares at them with a strange sensuous smile, her eyes wide open. Eyes that are black with yellow pupils shining, blazing widely inside.

  The two turn to be stunned with this new sight.

  The Mother screams hysterically.

  The Man rushes to window and slams shutters shut, body shivering all over.

  For a moment, he’s very confused, not knowing what to do, a quick look at the Mother, still screaming, a quick look at the shutters closed and window light off, a quick look at the gun in his hand, a quick decision and he zooms out the upstage right door.

  The lights fade very fast.

  The music fades in

  Black.

  SCENE FIVE: CLAUSTROPHOBIA

  The lonely sound of the waves.

  The same night.

  The Mother and the Son – in exactly the same positions. The Son splayed on the floor – his sobs now subsided. The Mother by the window clutching her night robe, looking very strange, feeling very strange.

  Her head shaking nervously, her insides burning deep holes in her, a despairing haunting look in her eyes, a need to scream – oppressed by claustrophobia.

  She walks slowly, sombrely, steadily forward. She sits on the couch. She looks all around her suddenly, swayingly, she looks above her, the ceiling, the walls, her cell, she clutches the couch firmly, battling her malaise, wanting to scream, managing once a wince, shaking her head, slowly, slowly, endlessly.

  The Son sees her from his dusty misery on the floor. He watches her attentively then clambers up to his knees, a quick look at the open bedroom door, and he crawls over to her, ending up on his knees in front of her. He peers at her face studiously, misery written in his eyes, the searching, yearning derelict eyes of the orphan he is.

  He holds her hair trying to keep her face still, but she keeps shaking her head.

  Son: Ma …

  She keeps shaking. He holds her face with both hands and keeps her squirming head as steady as he can.

  Son: Ma … I’m gonna get the police.

  She keeps shaking her head, looking at him blankly, listlessly, not acknowledging him. He holds her by the shoulders, caressing her arms gently.

  Son: Ma, please, listen to me. I’m gonna get the police.

  She keeps shaking her head, listlessly, sadly. He becomes very sad as he holds her and lifts her almost closer to him, his hands firmly under her arms, slowly caressing the side of her body, with a burning urgency.

  Son: Please, let’s end it all. Let’s go somewhere else.

  She slowly stops moving and stares deep in his eyes, her face an inch away from his. The Son holding her firmly, holding her body, close to him, but not touching him, holding her, quelling a feverish desire with great difficulty. He looks at her, like the unwanted, desperately needing to be wanted. He parts his lips slightly, his moist tongue visible to her.

  She slowly looks up behind him at the Man standing at the doorway to the bedroom, shoulder holster on with gun, hands in pockets, staring at the two of them intently, sombrely.

  Son spins around guiltily and jolts up and backs against the wall. The Man looks at him stonily. He heard. There’s a trace of violence in his stare.

  The Son is feeling equally violent.

  He wants to …

  He wants to …

  The son bolts out the upstage right door angrily and disappears, seething with frustration.

  The Man was almost going to follow him. He knows he should, but he doesn’t.

  Half-sad, half-thoughtful, he wonders what the Mother is thinking about as he slowly walks over to her.

  The Mother is confused, wanting to rush out, at the same time compelled to stay.

  A moment of apprehension as the Man stops next to her, his eyes making clear that without her it would be a different decision.

  They keep staring at each other, the Mother becoming increasingly saddened by her fate, feeling all hope gone.

  The Man feeling guilty at having to hold her captive, yet more firm than ever, he also becomes sad, wishing there were other alternatives.

  The Mother looks away and down.

  The Man looks at her and away, very tired.

  The Mother feels her eyes get moist, her head quiver slightly.

  The Mother sees his hand close to her face.

  The Mother making a point of looking the other way slowly, timidly raises her own hand and tentatively holds his.

  A pause.

  She slowly, almost guiltily, with suppressed yearning places her cheek against his hand and slowly caresses her cheek against it.

  The Man simply looks down at her, gentle yet emotionless. She looks out ahead of her, vulnerable.

  The sound of the waves fade as the lights fade to

  Black.

  SCENE SIX: SIN

  Dim lights jump out of the black to reveal the loneliest latest hour of that same night. The angry drums of combat jump out loudly with the lights.

  Music: Battle Scene

  To reveal the Military Man – seated on some crates upstage right, leaning against the wall, head drooping in sleep – in full combat outfit, machine-gun in hand on knees.

  The moment the light hits him, his head slowly moves up to reveal the black charcoal marks on his stony face of suspicion.

  He has a chocolate bar in his mouth. A Mars Bar. He had just finished taking a bite of the bar and his right hand is now in the process of lowering the bar.

  He munches on it. Each chewing motion of the jowls tinged with the anxiety of his hostile enemy territory. Fear kept at bay only by the explosive potential violence kept boiling in him. Lid down but ready to overflow any minute without warning.

  The Military Man is ready for battle, as his eyes remain fixed on the bedroom door.

  He checks his watch.

  One more bite of Mars.

  Checks watch once more.

  Time.

  Mars ’tween teeth, he bolts up, cocks gun and begins to move.

  He slowly, silently moves forward, eyes fixed intently at bedroom. He reaches the bedroom door and pauses. Tense.

  Nothing. No sound.

  He cautiously leans against wall by door and slowly reaches door knob, ready to twist it open.

  Hand on knob, about to open, when he turns around, gun pointed at downstage right door.

  He heard a sound. He’s sure of it.

  He slowly, crouchingly moves to door.

  Has idea.

  Knee
ls behind armchair, gun pointed at door ready to blast a round and waits.

  Tense beads of perspiration forming on his forehead.

  Tense angry chords accompany the drums now. The volume of the music increases.

  All the lights turn red!

  Upstage right, from behind the shadows of the moody, unfriendly doorway out lurks a figure – Monkey.

  She pops her head out quizzically, holding on to the wall and unsteadily moves out of hiding. She has a limp in her left leg and has to hold on to objects occasionally.

  Military Man, tense, is unaware of her presence, and sits tight as Monkey slowly, tentatively moves closer to him.

  Monkey’s nostrils flare suddenly and her eyes pop out.

  She smells chocolate.

  A quick look around and the trail on the floor is detected.

  She blissfully retrieves each chunk on the floor, following the trail, not to the bar in the cage, but the bar in Military Man’s mouth.

  Monkey is perilously close to Military Man as she mumbles sweetly to him, like the irresistible beggar she is.

  Military Man’s eyes flare for an instant as he senses her, before he suddenly turns around pointing rifle at her, his pent-up violence ready to be released through his trigger finger.

  Monkey backs frightened and almost stumbles down as she tries to allay his fears now by a shy smile, mustered up with great difficulty.

  Tense Military Man just stands there pointing rifle at her, defensive fear roaring through his eyes.

  Monkey is no longer startled, as she now mumbles gently, trying to make friends with him as she hesitantly, shyly points to the chocolate bar twist his teeth, and meekly inquires with her gentle continuous “pshpshpsh” mumbling noises whether she could have a bite.

  Tense, cautious, suspicious Military Man looks down at the bar ’tween his teeth, slowly removes it and cautiously, after much deliberation, extends it to her.

  She hesitantly comes forward and with shy gratitude slowly takes it. A friendly giggle escapes her as she takes a tiny bite.

  Slightly relieved Military Man, still staring at her with disbelief, slowly takes seat on couch and reaching for knapsack produces second Mars Bar for himself

  Military Man seems to have relaxed a little. Monkey senses this as she hesitantly ventures nearer, hobbling and limping closer to him, more curiosity having gripped her inquiring head, as she tentatively touches his helmet, fascinated by the complex netting and twigs. She makes herself comfortable as she sits on his knee, munching her chocolate with one hand and playfully trying to remove the helmet with the other.