By Prospero Dae
Black stilettos. Neons cast pale pools of aching yellows and obsessive reds. When the day no longer recognizes itself and night’s reptilian shell has begun to crack, they arrive in limousines, or else in rusted jalopies; some, out of breath, stumble into the vortex after ambling for miles; others appear from sunken doorways; look at these dear souls’ eyes—they have a hunted expression.
Hard-fleshed eunuchs canvas the putrid landscape for the fattest wallets.
An argument—no, it’s laughter, the laughter of the dispossessed. Look yonder, someone is shadowing our psychopomp in black stilettos. Now there reigns the stench of death.
“…Now there reigns the stench of death.” [ FREEZE 1..2..3..4…seconds]
CUE SOUND: [ gradual, soft to loud “Pomp and Circumstance” by Elgar]
CUE LIGHTS: [fade slowly to black]
CUE CURTAIN.
An amazing show!
I didn’t realize you also directed theater. I hope you are a Bertolt Brecht pupil. Of course Brecht also wrote poetry, but I don’t think he did calligraphy–so you are already ahead of the game. There is much opportunity to apply the Verfremdungseffekt or V-effect in this piece. We could stage a production in the spring. Know any eunuchs? Let me know what your schedule is like.
Indeed I did pass through a Brechtian phase some years ago, though that was before I gave up Theatre altogether in the realization that solitude, rather than collaboration works best for me.
But that V-effect…yes! I have always suspected that “to make strange” is fundamental to all fine art, and I think you have the talent for that in spades.
So what you’re saying is that you don’t know any eunuchs…
But you have to admit, there’s something transrational about Mother Courage in stiletto heels.
Yes, I do admit that…stiletto heels are ipso facto transrational.
The banter here is ALMOST as enticing as the story itself. Kudo’s Prospero!
I’m glad you enjoyed the sideshow, it’s a tad brighter than the main attraction.
And we thought it was all light and brightness of being! 🙂
Brilliant writing Prospero! Love the banter with Cynthia! 🙂
Ah, it’s amazing what can be found in lugubriously dark corners.
Fascinating writing, Prospero. You totally drew me into the unfolding scene as ‘night’s reptilian shell’ begins to crack. Ooh, and that stench of death is appalling… 🙂
I agree about the stench emanating from the underworld. Someone ought to vacuum the place, for starters.