(This is my first play ever written, and needs a lot of help. If you review, please be blunt about it and tell me what's wrong so I can fix it. If you won't review, enjoy it the best you can! haha)
Gray
Scene I
(Lights up. Four cells, the first two are occupied by SAGE and MUTE. Mute is thumbing a stone, a stained blindfold over his eyes. Sage is sitting against the wall, looking at nothing. The next cell is empty, but the last one holds PRATE, who is furiously making twine.)
MUTE: You up, Sage?
SAGE: Yes, I’m up.
MUTE: S’there light comin’ from the window?
SAGE: Yes, there’s light.
MUTE: What’s it look like?
SAGE: Silver. It’s cloudy today. Why? What’s wrong?
MUTE: You always ask me what’s wrong when I talk to you. That’s what’s wrong.
SAGE: (smiles) I’m sorry. I’ll stop.
MUTE: (Good-naturedly) Quit smilin’, it makes me nervous.
SAGE: How do you know I’m smiling?
MUTE: S’not natural for you to smile. Are you mockin’ me?
SAGE: Why would I mock you?
MUTE: Nah, you’re not, I can tell. S’in your voice.
SAGE: Then why scare me?
MUTE: Why do you always ask questions?
SAGE: (smiles) Because I don’t know the answers.
MUTE: That was a pretty good answer, right there.
(Sage chuckles.)
MUTE: S’that cell still empty?
SAGE: You ask me this every—
MUTE: Is it?
SAGE: (beat) Yes. Still empty. (pause) Are we not good enough company for you?
MUTE: Who’s the we? (remembers) Oh. (pause) What’s he doin’?
SAGE: The usual.
MUTE: What’re you doin’?
SAGE: Thinking and staring.
MUTE: At what?
SAGE: Nothing. What’s there to look at?
MUTE: What are you thinkin’, then? (he’s suddenly alert, not giving Sage a chance to answer.) D’ya hear that?
SAGE: (listens, but hears nothing.) What?
MUTE: They’re openin’ the door…
SAGE: Really?
MUTE: Yeah.
SAGE: I can’t hear it…
MUTE: Someone’s with ‘em.
SAGE: How can you tell?
MUTE: Scufflin’, he is. Prob’ly a prisoner.
SAGE: There’s no noise…
MUTE: Don’t need to drag a guard down here, do they? I mean, they’re not prisoners, are they? They come willin’ly…
SAGE: Wait…I hear them!
(Sage stands, pressing against the bars in curiosity. Mute gets up shakily and walks over to the side closest to Sage’s cell, pushing a hand through the bars, looking for him. Prate has stopped making twine, suddenly erect, looking offstage L with apprehension.)
MUTE: You there?
SAGE: (absently) Yes, I’m here.
(Two guards with clubs enter, holding BLAINE between them. Blaine has his hands tied behind his back and he’s gagged. The guards open the door to the empty cell and toss him in. Mute hears a cell door open and gets concerned.)
MUTE: Sage? What’s going on? What’s happening? (pauses, gets nervous) You said you were there! Why aren’t you—?
(One guard bangs his club against the bars of Mute’s cell door, making a loud clanging sound. Mute jerks back, away from Sage’s cell. The guards close Blaine’s cell door and exit.)
MUTE: (tentatively) Sage? What’s going on?
(Sage doesn’t answer. He leans against the right side of his cell, the wall adjacent to Blaine’s. Blaine is leaning against the back wall, eyes closed.)
MUTE: (desperately) Sage! Where are you?
(Sage starts, realizing that he has left Mute in the dark, and runs to the other side of his cell, taking Mute’s fingers. Mute relaxes instantly.)
SAGE: I’m sorry, I’m sorry!
MUTE: I…I thought…
SAGE: Mute, I’m very sorry…
MUTE: It’s fine. Really. What’s goin’ on?
SAGE: New prisoner.
MUTE: (excited) Did he get the window?
SAGE: Yes, he got the window.
MUTE: What’s he doin’?
SAGE: Nothing. They tied him up too well. Give me a minute.
(Sage lets go of Mute, who reluctantly lets him go. Sage moves over to Blaine’s side.)
SAGE: Hello? Can you hear me?
(Blaine turns.)
SAGE: Come a bit closer, I can get those ropes off you.
(Blaine hesitates, suspicious)
SAGE: What am I going to do to you? Honestly. I don’t have a weapon, do I? And why would I hurt you?
(Blaine hesitates, but eventually walks over to him, wary.)
SAGE: Now turn around for me, please. I can’t reach that far.
(Blaine turns around, watching Sage over his shoulder, impatient and suspicious. Sage patiently unties the rope. As soon as they’re off, Blaine pulls his hands away and rips the gag off his mouth.)
BLAINE: Where do they keep the keys?
SAGE: Those are interesting first words.
BLAINE: Where do they keep the damn keys?
SAGE: You’re welcome for setting you free.
BLAINE: I’m serious!
SAGE: Why are you so eager to know?
BLAINE: Why do you think?
SAGE: (beat) Ah. Thinking of escape?
BLAINE: Damn right I’m thinking of escape! How firm are these bars?
SAGE: Very firm.
BLAINE: How firm are the bars in the window, then?
SAGE: Climb up the wall and try them yourself.
BLAINE: (glances high up the wall behind him to the imaginary window) Don’t think I won’t.
MUTE: What’s goin’ on?
SAGE: Feisty one, that’s all.
MUTE: ‘Nother escaper?
SAGE: Yes.
BLAINE: The walls can’t be that smooth…
MUTE: Nah, not smooth. But they’re pretty slippery, you know? Lots o’ moss.
BLAINE: I could probably climb up these bars on the side, here…
MUTE: Just wait ‘til winter. Coated with ice, with all that water. Well, rain’ll come first…that makes ‘em slippery, too. Impossible to climb.
BLAINE: Will you shut the hell up?
(The smile is wiped off Mute’s face. Sage turns on Blaine, annoyed.)
SAGE: Listen, you’re not a guard here. You’re just as low as any of us.
BLAINE: I’ll be a free man, soon, you have my word.
SAGE: Don’t be ridiculous, no one escapes. Look, you’re stuck here with the rest of us. We’ve all tried escaping, and it never worked. You’re a prisoner, like us, and they’ll do whatever they can to keep you from getting out.
BLAINE: Prisoners have the upper hand, though.
SAGE: What, isolation?
BLAINE: No, focus. A guard has a hundred prisoners to look after; make sure they don’t rebel or try to escape or get friendly with a guard. But a prisoner…the only thing on a prisoner’s mind is escape.
SAGE: It’s never the only thought.
MUTE: Sage?
SAGE: (beat) I’m here.
MUTE: Good.
BLAINE: Annoying little tyke, isn’t he?
SAGE: (casts him a dirty look, but continues to address Mute) I’ve always been here, Mute. I’ve never left.
BLAINE: Where else would you go?
(Mute is quiet)
SAGE: What’s your name?
BLAINE: Pardon?
SAGE: My name’s Sage, if it makes you feel better.
BLAINE: (beat) Blaine. What does it matter to you?
SAGE: (shrugs) We don’t get very many people around here. It’s nice to have someone new to talk to. This is Mute, here, and the one beyond your cell is Prate.
BLAINE: (turns to Prate) How are you?
SAGE: He doesn’t talk.
BLAINE: So you named the one that doesn’t talk Prate, and the one that won’t shut up Mute. That was clever.
MUTE: (quietly) I don’t talk that much.
BLAINE: Shut the hell up!
SAGE: Honestly…
BLAINE: You shut the hell up, too!
SAGE: No. You’re a prisoner, just like me, just like Mute. You have no power to give us orders.
BLAINE: Damn it, why can’t there be more people like Prate in here?
SAGE: We’d all go insane. Everyone needs to hear someone else’s voice, especially if they’ve
been in prison for a long time.
BLAINE: Well, aren’t you wise.
MUTE: (defensively) Oh, he is, he is!
SAGE: Mute…
MUTE: He can read, can you? Betcha you can’t!
BLAINE: Oh, he can read? (Mute nods proudly) Apparently he wasn’t smart enough to keep himself out of this place, now, was he?
SAGE: You weren’t, either.
BLAINE: Shut the hell up.
SAGE: Is that all you can say?
BLAINE: (more to himself than anyone else) Wasn’t my fault, anyway. No logical man would’ve seen it coming.
(I do have two questions that would help me a lot. Can you tell how old they are? Like, are their ages clear? And am I using too many (beat)s?
Thanks for reading!! I really appreciate it!
