Halloween, or 'All Hallows Eve'

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:
    "The word Halloween is first attested in the 16th century and represents a Scottish variant of the fuller All-Hallows-Even ("evening"), that is, the night before All Hallows Day.^[5] Although the phrase All Hallows is found in Old English (ealra hālgena mæssedæg, mass-day of all saints), All-Hallows-Even is itself not attested until 1556."
    Yeah.

    So, it turns out that Halloween is this pretty big deal for all us who work in the costume shop. Go figure, right? They had this costume party on Friday, after the improv show, which was awesome, and then last night we watched silly Halloween kinds of movies while people carved pumpkins. It was a good weekend.
    While I was back home over break I went looking for costumes and actually managed to find one *gasp!*. It was this black lace-over-satin "mermaid"-style evening gown that I found for fifteen dollars at a clearance sale. I had to take it in, but once I did it worked really well.
    And here are pictures of me in the dress as a zombie.

Introduction to a Dream

Hey all! So for my Intro to Theatre class I had to write a script. And here it is! For your viewing (well, reading) pleasure:

Introduction to a Dream

 A short script

by Sarah Hope Robinson

(The scene suggests an airport waiting area. It is a stormy winter and flights across all of Canada are delayed. There are a handful of people scattered about; a few are chatting quietly, most are either staring at some kind of screen or trying to sleep. MADELINE FLYNNAGAN is among the latter. She is a youngish woman with red-brown hair, librarian by trade, neurotic by practice if not by nature. She is lying at one end of a long red-cushioned bench, center stage, covered over by a warm trench coat or some style of fashionable knee-length jacket. It is midnight. Enter JAMES NORTH from left. He is in his mid-forties, passably attractive, and travel-stained; he is returning home from yet another international foray. James wears jeans, worn hiking boots, a blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He has been tanned by a more southern sun and wears glasses. He checks his ticket then sits at the other end of the long bench.)

JAMES: (to himself) There’s something about an airport, any airport, that gets to me.(gradually he stops talking to himself; he addresses the audience, becoming more animated as he goes on.) Maybe it has to do with this all-encompassing hush that descends around midnight and doesn’t depart again until four or five the next morning. It might be about that everyday miracle which lets a thousand tons of steel and luggage soar across a star-flecked sky or the absolute peace that grips me during take-offs and landings, the most dangerous part of any flight, and the most beautiful. (During James’ monologue stage lights have dimmed until all is black save for the bench and the two of them in a single brilliant spotlight.)

I hate having to leave an airport, but I cope better if I know I’m stepping out into someplace I’ve never been before. The start of a journey is all about the anticipation, wondering what comes next(Madeline stirs, begins to awaken); the ending, like all endings, is full of regret and-

(As Madeline sits up James sees that she is awake and cuts himself off abruptly. As she stands and stretches the jacket falls to the ground; beneath it she is barefoot and wearing a sleeveless, bias-cut, ankle-length dress of sea gray.)

MADELINE: Well how odd.

JAMES: Excuse me?

MADELINE: I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. It’s almost always the same thing, played over and over again, but you’re new. Have we ever met? I mean actually met?

JAMES: (clears throat) No. I’m James North. (He extends a hand which she doesn’t shake)

MADELINE: Madeline Flynnagan, as you probably already know.

(She starts walking. As soon as Madeline ‘breaks’ the circle of spotlight, the stage should be fully illuminated and the spotlight should be off, with no transition. Light mimics early morning, not rosy but forgiving. The stage is cleared of all furnishings but the bench. Upstage is a bulky white structure which incorporates different levels upon which the actors can stand and move about. It should have a few ladders and be vaguely reminiscent of Escher.)

JAMES: Why should I know? Are you famous?

MADELINE: No, I’m a librarian.

            Are you?

JAMES: Not yet. I have a few fans but I’m nowhere close to famous. I’m a novelist, you know. (At this point James seems to notice the oddity of his surroundings.) Ms. Flynnagan, this may sound like a stupid question, but what the HELL is going on?

MADELINE: Hmm… I think I’m dreaming.

JAMES: That’s all very well for you, but what am I doing here?

MADELINE: Aren’t dreams where figments of the imagination usually reside? I’m pretty sure I learned something about that in high school…

JAMES: I am not a figment! I have a life, a job. Which I was in the process of getting back to before- before whatever happened, before I ended up here.

MADELINE: Really? (Considers) I suppose I’ll go along with that for now. Or you could vanish. Or turn to custard or spice cake or mashed potatoes-

JAMES: Stop. You’re making me hungry.

MADELINE: Well then Mister North, what would you like to talk about? This dream doesn’t seem to be going anywhere fast, so we might as well talk, right?

JAMES: A-

MADELINE: Or, but, I mean, if you don’t want to…

JAMES: I don’t know what to say.

MADELINE: (finds a protrusion of the structure and swings on it, dangling by her hands before pulling herself back up) Oh, anything! Tell me about your childhood, or your books. Do you write for a living? Can you actually make that work?

JAMES: Well, it’s not much of a living; I do some freelancing on the side to help cover the bills. Book reviews for newspapers and websites, mostly. How’s li- librarianing? Is that a word?

MADELINE: It’s librarianship, actually.

JAMES: (a short pause while James waits for her to go on) And how is that?

MADELINE: Disappointing. To my mother at least. I love it, but she just doesn’t seem to care. Always Wesley this and Wesley that. I always thought mothers identified more with daughters. Rather than less.

JAMES: Who’s Wesley?

(Enter Wesley Flynnagan, stage right. He wears a sharp business suit and carries a black leather briefcase. He stops and sits on the bench, as if waiting for a train. Meanwhile, Madeline and James have reached the highest platform.)

MADELINE: (sits, her legs dangling off the edge, and points to Wesley) That’s ‘Wes the Perfectly Perfect’. Look at that suit! He’s a big fancy banker. Lives at the top of a hill in a big fancy house with his pretty immaculate wife and their three beautiful children. But what really gets me is that I can’t even resent him properly.

            He’s my brother.

JAMES: I understood that part actually, that he’s your brother.

MADELINE: Oh.

(Wesley stands and waves to Madeline, who returns the gesture. He then checks his watch, curses softly under his breath, and hurriedly exits stage left.)

MADELINE: (standing and turning back to James) Do you have a brother?

JAMES: No.

MADELINE: Sister?

JAMES: No.

MADELINE: Aunt?

JAMES: No, actually. I used to have one, but she died when I was seven. I never knew her.

MADELINE: Oh. Your mom’s sister or your dad’s?

JAMES: My mother’s.

MADELINE: Well, tell me about her.

JAMES: My aunt? Like I said, I never knew her.

MADELINE: No, your mom.

JAMES: Oh. Well, I know she wants the best for me, and she loves me, but sometimes…

MADELINE: (after a pause) Go on.

JAMES: Sometimes I think all she wants, all she really wants, is for me to be exactly like my father. Work a steady job, get married, have a kid. But Dad hated his job, utterly despised it; he wanted to be a writer. He always told me to go for it. So here I am. Despite my mother.

MADELINE: If your dad hated his job, why did he keep at it?

JAMES: To support me, put me through college, build up a cushion to retire on, that sort of thing.

MADELINE: But you’re not worried about cushions. (Madeline retrieves her coat from the floor and they sit down together on the red-cushioned bench. Lights fade out as spotlight fades in.)

JAMES: No, I am. But…

MADELINE: But you’re doing what you love to do so you’ll keep at it even in the face of diversity.

JAMES: (smiles) Something like that.

MADELINE: Are you sure you’re not a figment?

JAMES: (emphatically) Yes.

MADELINE: It’s just that we have so much in common. (Glances about) I think I’m waking up now. (Lies down and covers herself over with coat) Maybe I’ll see you out there, in the real world.

JAMES: Good night then. Pleasant dreams. (In the instant before the light goes off James realizes what he has just said, and reacts.)

CURTAIN

 

     ...Yeah. If this ever actually gets performed by anyone out there, I'd be very grateful if you could take a video and put a link to it in the comments, just because I'd enjoy getting to see what it would actually look like.