Death

This scene is set at one grave in a cemetery. A GUY enters, carrying a karaoke machine. He is in comfortable clothes, with a baseball hat on his head. He sets his player down and starts assembling it. He plays a song — “Bato sa Buhangin” and starts singing.

A woman (CASSANDRA) enters. She is wearing a long red dress. She interacts with the guy but the guy cannot see or hear her.

Cassandra: Fly me to a place where childen play and I will run with them. I will leave this heavy rock, this crucifix of Tartarus. Today, oh, today, on my birthday into this life, give me the liberty to escape the smell of the rice I couldn’t taste. I want to pull that cord and play with the thread of life and death if that would mean liberty. If I could, I would shout as loud as I could, I would jump up and down the forest, and I’d drink lots of beer. Oh, please, if I couldn’t play with the children, at least, let me drink really cold beer. But now, I live nowhere, surviving in no time, a bird seven years unable to sing in captivity. Because of you, my jailer. My jailer in your baseball cap. My jailer named Ferdie!

(Beat)

Cassandra:  Up to now? Even up to now I can’t escape the smell of the shirt you’ve been sweating in for a week or the grating sound of forcibly hitting a high note or the feeling of your absence when you’re sitting right there? Even up to now, even up here, I couldn’t avoid you. What should I do? What is worse than the curse named you in my bed that is both prison and paradise? What would finally divide us — that I never loved you when my skin was whole and I wasn’t reduced to charred hair and fingernails? Even up to now, you’re here — you, the reminder and image of my first sin and final mistake. Why can’t you just leave me, quiet, sleeping like a saint buried in the mountains? This is the day I resent! Every year you come and my temporary peace is cut by your visit. Leave! What are you still doing here? Leave! Up to now, you make my blood crunch — assuming you still left me any! What pain would you feel that no sickness could ever match, nor no confession ever forgive — for a man who killed his wife.

——————-

CARD DRAWN:

XIII – DEATH

THIS IS THE TAROT CHALLENGE, a 78-day writing challenge where everyday I pick out a random card from my tarot deck and write something about, against, inspired by, based on the card by the day’s end. The works can range from poetry to fiction to drama. When the card is from the major arcana, the title of the work should be the card name. When the card is from the minor arcana, the title can be different but the card drawn should be revealed at the end.

ONE DAY TO GO!

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