The play continues . . . To see the complete script and for enquiries regarding performance please contact Michael Weston Organisation <mwo@eis.net.au> |
THE FEAR A ONE ACT PLAY By MAL ANDERSEN STYLE: HORROR ACTORS: Two. 1 Male & 1 Female SETTINGS: One. A farmhouse kitchen TIME: The Present DURATION: 25 30 minutes All rights reserved © 2006 Mal Andersen Michael Weston Organisation Pty Ltd 126A Main Avenue Windsor QLD 4030 0413 209 644 <mwo@eis.net.au> SYNOPSIS This is a horror story. A middle-aged couple is trapped in a farmhouse by the "Fear". What is the unknown force? Where did it come from? Is there any escape? More to the point what is the nature of fear itself? CHARACTERS WOMAN A middle- aged woman who is obviously a housewife married to the farmer on a 'Battler's Run' out back. She is the good obedient wife always looking to her husband for leadership as head of the household. They have no children. She is dressed in a plain, simple housedress and apron. Her hair is tied back without fuss, and she wears little or no makeup. She speaks softly. MAN Farmer. Solid, hard-working bloke trying to get by and bear up, as all who pursue a farmer's life in this hard country, must. He wears working clothes of worn appearance. He is unshaven and his hair is disheveled. He looks tired and worried. Most of his speech denotes a slowness of thought. SCRIPT (CURTAIN) (Scene opens on the simple, basic kitchen of a farmhouse. In the centre is a table and two chairs. There is another chair near the door at back of stage. There is a curtained window to right of door. On the back of the door are large pegs for hats and coats. Above the door is a rack holding a rifle. Two lamps light the room, one hanging and one on table, There is a stove to stage right and a sink, bench, and shelf to stage left.) (LIGHTS at LOW. Slowly up to MID) (A middle-age woman attends to something on the stove. The opening of the door and the entrance of her husband distract her. She is momentarily startled, but then quickly recovers and goes back to the pot on the stove. He turns up the lamp switch and a warmer glow takes over the room.) (LIGHTS to FULL) (He closes the door and bolts and locks it with care.) MAN: Cold and still out there. WOMAN: Dark side of the moon. MAN: Yep. WOMAN: No stars. Black. MAN: Yep. (MAN takes off his heavy work jacket, hangs it on a peg behind door, walks slowly to chair near door and sits heavily. He begins to remove work boots and place slippers on his feet after rubbing and massaging each foot. He places his boots carefully near the door. WOMAN continues to stir the pot on stove without looking at her husband.) (MAN stands and checks the rifle. He returns it to the rack. He pulls the curtain to one side and peers out. ) (MAN closes curtain and moves to sit at the table) (WOMAN finishes stirring pot, replaces lid and turns slowly) WOMAN: Will it happen to night? MAN: Could be. (Long pause) WOMAN: Hear anything outside? MAN: No. WOMAN: Should we have done anything else? MAN: Not much we can do. WOMAN: The Carlyle's MAN: Yeah! I heard. Had two Boar dogs. Savage beasts. Not a growl. No sound. No whine. No bark. Nothing. Just plain vanished into thin air. Nothing! So? WOMAN: Strange happenings. Feels like we have to do something. MAN: What? Them dogs just got spooked and ran off. That's all. Dogs get spooked. WOMAN: Maybe. Do something. Anything. MAN: What can we do? (Long pause) WOMAN: Leave. Like the Mc Clusky's done. MAN: What? WOMAN: Leave here. Like they done. Go as far away as we possibly can! MAN: Our home? WOMAN: Yes. MAN: Our farm? WOMAN: Yes. Now. Fast. For good! MAN: No! You're talkin' foolish! WOMAN: Stay and we die. MAN: We stay. WOMAN: We're gonna die. MAN: Everyone's gonna die sometime. WOMAN: It's not as though it's something we can fight. MAN: We stay. WOMAN: The drought well, we can last that out maybe. Bush fires we can fight with breaks or come back and rebuild maybe. Get on again. Bear up. Floods we can dry and clean. Pick up where we were maybe and MAN: Enough! We stay. (MAN sits in a brooding silence) (WOMAN reluctantly gives over and begins to ready the table for the evening meal. She serves up in silence and they begin to eat) SFX SOFT KNOCKING AT THE DOOR (They pause in their eating and look at the door waiting for the knocking to be heard again) (SILENCE) (They resume eating as though nothing had happened) (SHE looks up from her food and says) WOMAN: Just the wind? MAN: Yep. (Pause) WOMAN: We could pray. MAN: Started. Already eating. WOMAN: No. I don't mean like just saying grace. I mean real praying. MAN: What for? WOMAN: Deliverance. MAN: From what? From something you can't see. Touch. Taste. Or smell. Give me a break. Just let it go. WOMAN: I can't. Every day it's another thing unexplained every day closer to us we're next you know MAN: O.K. Let it go. One strange thing happens around here and everybody gets a collected bout of the fear. Each and every little thing and the fear gets bigger. What is this really about? WOMAN: Everything. Fear of fear itself. It's all 'round. Like something in the air you breathe in. MAN: Like a bloody disease. Everyone catchin' it from someone else! As if hard times isn't enough we gotta have the fear as well? Fear. WOMAN: It's hard times that bring on the Fear! Should pray. MAN: Like Benson. Now he was a real prayer. And a real preacher. Loud. Long. Now he sits. Shivering. Shaking. Mumbling. Off his flamin' head. WOMAN: Poor Reverend Benson. He saw it! MAN: How would you know? Stark ravin' mad! WOMAN: Must have seen it? MAN: We'll never know. Not now at any rate. WOMAN: Elsie Morgan says he talked about a dog. She said he was ravin' on about a dog. It came up through the valley like a thick fog. That's what he said. Too thick to see through. Silently, slowly, it covered the valley and everyone in it. Then it lifted and every farm was gone. Just disappeared. Nothing just the sound of a dog away off. (Pause) You can see a fog. Thick as a blanket at dawn then it slowly lifts. Hot clear days follow a morning fog. Most times anyway. He said it was like a fog. Then it lifted and nothing what do you reckon about that? MAN: Makes no sense. He never did. God bothering, bible bashing flamin' ratbag. WOMAN: Don't say that. Please. MAN: Well he flamin' was! Don't know whether he was talkin' about a flamin' fog or some damn dog! WOMAN: We should still pray. MAN: No good. Won't do no damn good at all! You don't get rain out here just by prayin'. Prayin' don't cool the drought fever. And you won't chase the fear with it either! WOMAN: Reverend Benson always said that something would strike us down. Strike us down. Dead! MAN: Maybe he was right! Struck down by the fear itself! WOMAN: He said we were all sinners pursued by the hounds of heaven and the hounds of hell! MAN: Maybe. WOMAN: Feel like we have to do something. MAN: Yeah. What? WOMAN: Anything. Please Anything MAN: We stay. We wait. Now, eat. (Both finish the meal quickly and WOMAN starts to tidy up. MAN sits silently and looks at the door) (Pause) WOMAN: You gonna do something? MAN: Yep. I'm gonna wait. WOMAN: You gonna pray? MAN: Nope. (Pause) WOMAN: The Jackson girl's down with a terrible fever. MAN: Drought Fever. (WOMAN nods) WOMAN: What about those circles in Jackson's corn paddock MAN: Yeah? What about 'em? WOMAN: Circles cut as neat as you like in a design right in the middle of a corn paddock. No sign of anyone goin' in or comin' out MAN: I seen 'em. Other places too. Lots of 'em. WOMAN: Jackson's dogs wouldn't go into the paddock. Lay down at the fence line and whined like a pair of mangy, mongrel curs. MAN: Yeah. That's what I heard. WOMAN: What do you reckon? MAN: I don't. WOMAN: Had to be somethin' super-natural like. MAN: Yeah? Like what? WOMAN: Space things. Extra terrestrials. MAN: Don't talk rubbish, Woman! WOMAN: Had to be part of all this. Jackson's dogs run off too. MAN: Yep. Better off without them mangy, mongrel curs. Useless. WOMAN: Dog's gotta earn their keep. Eh? MAN: Yep. WOMAN: When did they run off? MAN: It was before them other dogs went wild and disappeared. After Benson went bonkers WOMAN: And that little child from up 'round the Bundalls just plain disappeared in the middle of the day. Tell me that's not a mystery. (Pause) MAN: O.K. So it's a mystery. WOMAN: It's all part of it. You mark my words. MAN: Give it a rest, Woman! WOMAN: They searched everywhere. Nothing. The creeks, the dam. Nothing. Not a sight nor a sign of that child. The Mother was hysterical. I felt for that tormented soul. Her heart's broke. Dead inside. MAN: Enough! Let it go! WOMAN: I don't want to. I'm scared out of my wits. And you just sit there MAN: Yep. WOMAN: And the good Lord won't help you if you won't pray. (Pause) (MAN sits motionless) Every day one farm closer. We should have moved into town. That's what. MAN: They ain't any safer in town either. WOMAN: But out here strange happenings first the Mc Clusky's, then the Robertson's, the Jackson's, then the Carlyle's, the Benson's, then the Morgans then MAN: US! Let it go Woman! Will yer? |
The play continues . . . To see the complete script and for enquiries regarding performance please contact Michael Weston Organisation <mwo@eis.net.au> |
