Blogger's Note: 7 day/7 play

Hey viewers,
Due to difficulties with studying for finals and finishing up business for the end of the year, I was unfortunately unable to keep up with my 7 day/7 play project. Instead of the 7 plays promised, I will only be able to turn in 4. Hopefully they will be enough and not too disappointing, but I really can't afford to spend anymore time in this project. Thank you for looking at them and I hope everyone had a great summer!

- C

Play #4: The Canvas

(An artist walks onto the stage, the back wall behind them is pure white, primed and ready to be painted. An array of paints and tools are already set. They sit, facing the wall, and wait. A girl goes on stage and takes a seat up front, and microphone placed in front of her. The painter is instructed to only paint what they feel, let the words guide them to create. He will begin when ready.)

When I was a child, the world was beautiful

The people around me were kind and watchful

the days were long and the nights were peaceful

My daddy told me

“yours is a life as unique as a star in the night sky

You’re small now, but soon my child you will shine”

“How will I shine?” I asked him

“However you wish” he told me.

I spent nights looking at the stars, and dreamed of becoming one. 

In the day, the stars were gone, but the skies were infinitely blue and clear. 

I used to stare all day and make the sky my canvas

For a story that only I could tell.

This is when I first began to paint. 

(The painter at this point, sets the canvas aside and a new one is brought in to replace the former.)

I grew older and with every slow year in my childhood I drew more and more. 

The paintings in my mind

which I painted on the sky

would find their way from blue to white.

As my body and mind blossomed so did my skill

All was a reflection of my perfect little world.

A world at which the center was a star

that shined with hope and happiness. 

But my happy little world 

As it turned out

did not match the world which I lived in.

Somewhere along the line

the new faces I met turned cold

They judged my art as infantile and unrealistic

The brightness of my colors too abundant

They called me foolish and self centered. 

“What is so special about a single star

when a million lie beside it. 

Ones which shine brighter and are bigger

how can you claim this star is anymore special?”

They said “How could anything shine so bright 

when there is war and death every day.”

“How can you be so naive to think there is nothing wrong in this world?”

“You’re no more special than a stone in the gravel. Don’t overstep your bounds”

Words

All of it simply words

But those words broke me

The child who had seen so much beauty in this world

was dragged into the harsh reality of it

and only saw despair. 

I did not think she could become more jaded... 

Then my father died 

Killed by a drunk driver.

(Painter throws aside his canvas and is given a new one. He draws more savagely and with emotion.)

 For years, I could not hold a paint brush

I could not paint images in my mind

I couldn’t even bear to look at the sky

My life became so empty

I considered many times ending it all.

My only reason for not doing it was because I was afraid

of what greater nothingness could come with death.

I tried to carry on

I became an office worker

but everyday was long and lonely.

One night, I came home from work early

They fired me. 

I fell as I tried to carry my things inside. 

I cried

“What has become of me?”

I looked up into the sky...

and I saw the canopy of starlight

endless amounts of stars shining down at me. 

I became angry. 

“there are so many of you in the night! How is one little star supposed to shine when no one will let her?”

“You’ve made me dull and weak!” 

“You stole my father from me, you killed his light!”

“Why should you all be allowed to shine so brightly?”

I stared into the sky for hours. 

I watched them carry on, deaf to my cries. 

blind by my tears. 

I thought of my father and thought I heard him speak

“My little star, have you forgotten?”

“Forgotten what?” I begged

“How special you are?”

“I’m not special.” 

“You are wrong” 

“How can a star be so special?”

“It’s like I told you all those years ago”

“The size, the brightness, it doesn’t matter. 

No star shines the same. 

Even among millions

You are not like them. 

Because the way the star shines is what counts

While most will not see your shine, 

There are those who will admire it more than any other. 

You were always my favorite star...”

I couldn’t believe it...

whether it was my mind or my ears that heard it,

it sparked something in my heart. 

I left my things in the driveway, and went to my basement. 

I picked up my paintbrush,

and for the first time since I was small

and from that moment on

I shined.

(The painter finished his last painting. he then delicately picks up the other two, and placed them all side by side. We admire the paintings as we see her and the painter as the same. The lights slowly fade away)

Play #3: Reblog

[Technical Difficulties] -- There's a slight issue with me posting this play. Because the format of the events in this play required me to use a table to organize the rhythm of the piece, I won't be able to post the actual play here (it keeps rejecting the format). Hopefully I can find a way to post it elsewhere and then link it here. But in the meantime, please enjoy my other plays

Note to teacher: Hey Dave, i might need to print this one out and hand it to you, since I'm having trouble posting it here.