BEDTIME by Aoife Delany-Reade - Tiny Plays for a Brighter Future

Ten Tiny Plays, consisting of just 600 words, have been shortlisted as part of the Tiny Plays for a Brighter Future challenge, a partnership between ESB and Fishamble: The New Play Company, which was launched in February 2021. The challenge invited writers to imagine what a brighter energy future means to them, and to capture that in a 600-word play. Over 350 submissions were received, and the shortlisted plays were selected by an independent panel of judges. ​

BEDTIME by Aoife Delany-Reade
​
Low lighting. Charlie stands centre stage. They are one of us.

Charlie:

Who would’ve thought it was that easy?

Charlie takes a step forward. Lights fade up. They talk to us.

Roll out of bed. Feet greet the ground before Alarm begins to shout her worries of the day.

Today’s the day.
A day of change.
My bed is getting made.

Not for fear of scolding or mould growing- though they so often do the trick, but from Other. From a subtle spark of care that slowly lights a fire.

Something has changed.
Today’s the day- the same as any other.
But now the bed is made.

Head downstairs.
Descending like the rain from today’s everyday sky.
But it’s not an obstacle anymore.
Not something to ignore or shy away from, but an element to embrace.

So, with coated body and determined face I step-

Charlie takes an intentional step forward. Rain is heard.

Charlie:

-outside into downpour.

I walk my usual route to my usual routine, and am surprised to be greeted with something other than usual.

The faceless masses I customly pass are looking up, and… smiling towards me? A din of warmth greets the cold air. An exchange amongst strangers.

A gentle din is heard.

Charlie:
To my surprise I smile back. We greet each other in a strange way. Strange because we are finally meeting each other. Masses find their meaning again in an individual way. We’re blessed that something has changed. We’ve made our bed today.

Charlie takes another step forward. The gentle din fades.

Charlie:

I carry on and come to the underpass. Regular home of the cider lads - dodging
school - whose blaring tunes and wisps of wizardly smoke spell ‘You Shall Not Pass’.

But it’s empty. They’ve gone away.
Back to their worried mothers-seen at last, or integrated with the masses and made their way to class.
The boys’ve been replaced.
With bunk-bed upon bunk-bed of blankets and pillows settled perfectly in place.

I’m not sure how long they’ve been gone.
Then again, when did I last look their way?

Something’s settled in their place.

Pause. Charlie takes another step forward

Charlie:

I emerge from the tunnel’s other side, and carry on my every day.
Repetition after repetition.
This time in a different way.
Change upon subtle change.
Worldly-human interplay.

We try. Things get better.

Pause. Charlie takes a step forward.

As time passes, the sun returns to it’s freshly made bed. As routine passes, I return to house, transformed to home- myself carried with it.

Not from want or will, but from beginning's smallest step.

Pause.

In the remnants of housely habit-I turn on the news.
Not out of morbidity or distraction, but from want to engage.
To see what else has changed.

The sound of static plays.

But nothing plays. There’s nothing left to report.
No tragedy or disaster or gradual decline.
The smoke has stopped, the oceans calmed and for the first time in however long- everything is…

...okay.

Not from structural change, or political play- but from subtle changes in our subtle ways.

Pause.

Charlie:

For once, I’m not tired, I’m energised by lack.

Pause. A gentle, rhythmic beat plays. Soothing.

The moon peeks it’s head and sleepy stars begin to shine, the world can rest, knowing we’re doing fine.

We can rest, knowing the world is going to be…

...okay.

It’s time to make our bed.

Who would’ve thought it was that easy?

​
Aoife Delany Reade is a tiny, all encompassing fragment of the universe. Working primarily as a director and writer, Delany Reade is drawn to liminality: worlds suspended between fact and fiction; magic masquerading in mundanity. She is co-artistic director of war/war/war Theatre, a space created to formally acknowledge the unified-yet ever-shifting nature of collective collaboration she engages in.
www.facebook.com/warwarwartheatre

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