This is from a continuing dystopia universe I write for myself, though this is a bit I love so I decided to share it. It's a bit hard to understand out of context, but after experimenting with a play format I came up with this.
Three men and one of the men's son are standing around in an alley. They've just seen the guard on duty when Bates escaped hung in the town square. The sounds of shouting and glass breaking can be heard in the distance.
Man 1: Did you see 'em?
Man 2: Someone said he was blind
Kid, quietly, standing in his dad's (Man 1) shadow: I really hope he's okay
Man 3: How long has it been?
Man 1: Was it Angelo again?
Man 2, his tone is more somber than the others, and seems far more sober: It's always Angelo, with him.
Man 3: the kid's a whore, why do we care?
Man 1, echoing Man 3: A falseface, a whore. Why do we care?
Man 2, glancing at the Kid: he's only nineteen. I heard he put up a fight, but no one helped him that night
Man 1, snickering, he spits tobacco onto the ground: bet he screamed like a girl
Man 2: Jack, it's not funny
Man 1, he flips his knife open, the Kid steps back, away from the blade: so what? The hell does it matter to you?
Man 2, glancing down at his shoes: Angelo Valentin had a gun to my head. I thought I was dead. He had a kid on his arm, a boy of sixteen-
Bates' voice from offstage: my dear, I am so tired. Surely we can just go home? This man has not tried to hurt you, we can let him go this once. Dinner's nearly ready, and you wouldn't want to miss. You have plenty of blood on your hands for one day, if you want more there's always me
The other two men and the kid look around nervously, speechless.
Man 2: so you see, he saved my life. I owe it all to him, I regret not saving him that night
Man 3, laying a hand on Man 2's arm: how would you have known?
YOU ARE READING
resfeber / / thoughts
Poetry(n.) the restless race of the traveler's heart before the journey begins. when anxiety and anticipation are tangled together; a 'travel fever' that can manifest as an illness rants, poetry, thoughts, bits and pieces of my mind. a receptacle for what...
