Keep your creativity flowing with Fishamble's #TinyPlayChallenge
In these challenging times, Fishamble - along with many of our colleagues in the wider Irish artistic community - is working hard to keep imaginations lively, communities engaged - and most of all offer people the opportunity of creative expression. We asked our audiences: Would you welcome the challenge of exploring your thoughts and feelings through drama? Do you have a dramatic story that you feel the urge to work out for yourself, and maybe share with your fellow citizens?
Below is one of the chosen plays from our weekly submissions.
Kiss of Death
Thursday 12th of March, 2020.
A woman in her early twenties is making a half-hearted attempt at cleaning up the kitchen at a house party. She collects glasses, perhaps taking occasional swigs out of unfinished drinks.
It is very late, and things have clearly begun to wind down, although she is visibly still a little drunk.
A man enters, catching her. She chokes a little at the sight of him. The tension between them is visible from the outset.
She attempts to pass by him and exit, actively avoiding eye contact.
(A ‘/’ indicates any lines that run into each other).
M: Going somewhere?
She stops about three feet away from him.
W: Living Room.
M: I was just seeing if you needed some help.
W: No, no.
W: I wasn’t doing much.
M: Yeah. You shouldn’t be drinking out of other people’s glasses right now.
W: Don’t preach.
M: I’m not preaching.
M: I just don’t want anything to happen to you.
W: Speaking of.
She takes a few measured steps back from him.
W: That’s more like a metre I’d say.
M: Is it one metre or two?
W: If it’s two, that living room is host to some serious safety breaches right now.
M: The measures don’t come into place until tomorrow, technically.
W: I guess.
M: I know tonight probably wasn’t the best idea, just… might not get to do it again for a while.
W: Probably not.
They catch each other’s gaze for the first time. He takes an instinctive step forward. She takes a step back.
W: We shouldn’t.
M: I know.
W: We can’t.
M: You’re right.
W: It’s just because we’re alone right now.
W: That’s why/
W: The pull is there/
W: I was making a point of not being alone with you tonight.
M: I’ve noticed.
W: Have you?
M: Well, you made it quite obvious.
W: I did not.
He gives her a knowing look.
W: Well, what was I supposed to do? It’s not easy.
M: I know.
W: You don’t think I want to?
M: Do you?
W: You know I do.
M: You’ve never said it.
W: Neither have you.
M: But you always knew I felt it.
W: Well, I thought the same.
M: So why didn’t anything happen?
W: It would have.
W: Now it’s just, well, it’s complicated, isn’t it?
M: It is.
M: I agree.
W: We can’t be reckless.
W: Think of the children.
M: Well, actually, statistically children are far less likely to contract it.
W: Then think of your grandmother.
M: Already dead.
W: We’re not doing this.
W: Thank God.
W: So, how are you coping?
M: Not bad, you?
W: Could be worse.
M: Glad to hear it.
W We can’t kiss.
M: I know.
A second man stumbles into the kitchen cluelessly. He freezes at the door, his eyes widening animatedly at the passionate display in front of him.
His initial shock subsiding, he fist pumps the air triumphantly, doing a small victory dance out the door and shutting it quietly behind him.
Laura Hartin is a third year Drama student in Trinity College. She is mainly interested in writing and performance.
Taut and captivating. You write well. Dialogue's brevity only adds to its natural ebb and flow. Excellent writing.
I really loved this piece. You drawer the audience in so well. “Taking swigs from unfinished drinks” opens up a whole vista of possibilities and where the story is going. Now the listener is hooked. I like that there are no names, no descriptions of the characters so we are left to observe and draw our own conclusions. Most of the background story is invisible on the stage leaving a suspense that catches the imagination. Great writing.
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