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12+ Violence

Siccitas - Act 1 Scene 1 and 2

by Luci Cae

Act 1 Scene 1

Enter Chorus


Tis a tale of shock and rage,

Written in so cursed a page,

Brendon’s vile deformation.

Born base of stock, in the good City,

Young lad, seventeen years of age,

Good of virtue, with Senecan fate,

Sought to avenge a love deflowered,

And henceforth, in blood and sin showered.

For Hephaestus did forge well,

And unhappy Aphrodite he did obtain,

Though it was with Mars with whom she mated.

Our good Ares Hephaestus did slay, and slew (vice versa)

For our Hephaestus specious may be,

And lurking ‘neath the golden fleece,

Typhon did reside. Oh! The agony!

For here, where ancient prince met the beast,

The good land of the centaurs’ feast,

A tragic story doth unfold,

With Sarah at its centerfold.

Come! Sweet death! For this lass tortured by kin!

For not related by blood, they gravely sin,

And tear the womb of the shepherdess,

The Mower did pursue.

And hence the mower they did mow (oh, he did),

Guided by an insidious hand.

Welcome! Prince of Darkness! Cast your wicked blessing

Unto this man afore named, and like in the tales of Kafka,

Change this man (he will pass),

Into the great Siccitas!

Exeunt Chorus



Oh! Lament my great woe, and curse sullen fate!

For ne’er a fairer lass did I see,

Than Sarah, her name precious to me

As orient pearl, and diamonds from the Ganges!

Her fingers, a snowy white,

A cage of ivory, encase my plight,

For I know, in her breast (in here)

Beats an aching heart just like mine,

And like mine own, doth reaches out,

To no avail.

Oh, blind love, temper your arrowheads!

Doth afford thee no more joy, as thou wilt,

To see lovers, suffer?

For she is the esteemed daughter of the Senator,

And I am but a poor clerk’s son,

Woe! Oh, cursed destiny,

That I should love such an unattainable lady!

I had just come downhill from the great cathedral

Where I prayed for redemption from this burning love,

To no avail.

Her father, severe as he is, will not let a prince approach her,

Let alone me. Oh, will I cry tears of my lifeblood!

For life has granted me

No less a burden than hers.

For the poor girl’s in love with me! Oh, sweet Lord!

Just yester-night she has sought me out under the blanket of darkness,

At my run-down residence in the shadow of her manor,

And brought me out to the flower-fields

Where we used to frolic in secret in our younger days

And come clean to me of her love!

Oh! Then we made a wish upon a star

For her to be born

To a willing father, and a living mother,

(For hers is dead, oh woe!) And I to be a great general

Instead of the clerk’s (my father’s) assistant,

Where I will wage great wars and bring her the trophies of my slain enemies!

Then we wished that I was a great Doctor of Sciences,

So I could give a sound reply to her queerest queries

And enlighten her of her Music of the Spheres.

Glittering jewels and gold gilded books, all

To no avail.

Oh! Thou had’st ravished me! I am but a simple boy,

Ne’er did I deserve her love.

Now! I shall quench these fires of love in a secret spring!

Oh, spring of clear water, locus amoenous,

I sin erroneous.

Brendon! No more talk! I shall ambulate,

To the secret spring of my youth, tucked away behind my humble residence.

Eden on earth, sinless paradise!

Go hither!


Enter DOCTOR LUCI, dressed in magic robes, with crystal ball in hand


Gazing into my crystal ball, I see,

So hastily, he retreats!

Oh Brendon, child of sin,

How will you navigate

This unforgiving labyrinth?

For even Perseus a fair lady’s thread doth have,

To guide his way in its swallowing depths.

For the beast you must slay, not by your own hand (but also),

For this Romeo is a tragic hero.

Append the wrongdoings of authority,

Learn not of sin’s polarity,

And will I grant you what you seek!

Now, my fair lass he soon will see,

In his cowardly attempt to flee,

The love which puts him ill at ease!

Bathing in the waters of the spring,

Sarah fends off summer heat.

When he chances upon our heroine,

Wherein scars run deep,

Will he take it upon himself

To venge the oath (of parental love) unkeep?




Yes, my good master?


See to the completion of the draught immediately.


Apologies, dear master.

Of all the sin, of all the pleas,

We lack magic gin and wild beast’s grease

For we are but spirits in the guise of scholars, not gatherers.

This draught, made from the torment of seventy-two grave sinners,

One for each demon of Solomon (Goetia)

Can grant power to rend the seas and summon lightning.

Yet we lack pride, the sin of our great lord,

That will unleash the true power within,

And grant true immortality to the consumer,

And demons, nay, even Michael the angel,

Will not be able to slay the drinker!

Oh! What power! Tis a pity that ingredients we lack,

For sickly fate has once again found us dumbfounded.


Foolish Mephistopheles! If you hath any faith in your lord,

You would have raised the issue to me sooner.

LUCI draws a dagger from his garments

Hereto, take my hand,

And behold the power of the Prince of Darkness!

Soon my agent on earth shall stand

Ever tall, and ne’er fall.

LUCI cuts off his right hand and gives it to MEPHISTO

Hell on earth soon encroach,

And Brendon, thy shall be my right hand,

In this God-forsaken land!

Go Mephisto, and add my hand to the draught,

And prepare the welcome, with most fanfare.

Infernus egredietur et peccatores succendent!


Act 1 Scene 2



Oh! Make haste, scuttle through the woods,

Seeking shelter like a witless man should!

Finally be I on the verge of arrival,

The water I so crave for survival!

For I, oh so miserable,

Hath found a place, oh so pleasurable

Beyond description!

Oh! Brendon, enough with the rhymes!

For they are merely the twinkling of a starry mind,

The language of infernal fire-flies

That erratically blink to fool our eyes

With false paradise.

Now, haste I say! Sprint with all your might,

For in the water salvation awaits!

Enter SARAH, bathing


Oh! Oh! What’s this?

Quick! Avert your gaze!

Oh! Wretched eyes of mine,

That indulged in her purity!

Nay! How can a maiden be pure,

When the fair skin of her inner thigh

Is laden with cuts and burns?


Brendon! Resume thy gait,

For cursed be your fate

Now you have seen these wounds that lace my body!

Leave me be, pursue simple glory,

Involve yourself not in something so foul!

May the Lord have pity on your soul!


Ay, I have indeed witnessed with mine own eyes

The horrible mutilation that my fair nymph hath endured.

Oh! Heavens!

What ever did this poor lass do

To incur such wrath?

Sarah, prithee tell me,

Who hath inflicted those perverse wounds upon you!


Oh, my dearest Brendon!

Drain my lifeblood, pluck my tendons!

I must apologize, your fate is now tethered

To mine, for I am not chaste; my petals have long withered.

Tis, much better elucidated

With poem than with prose stated.

Once there was a flower, it waxed and waned,

With beauty that cannot be writ’ nor named.

Whiter than snow it bloomed,

For it, alas, to winter doomed.

Those who pass by praise thy name,

For thy appearance earned thy fame.

But more! Thy nectar nourished,

Whom, without, would’ve perished.

Still more! Thy fragrance wooed the hardest of criminals,

And turned them into noble men from animals.

Ever more! Thy fair petals provide shelter,

For knights whom in pursuit of glory falter.

But one day, oh, that one day!

Where everything seemed so bright and gay,

The fly doth arrive,

It’s pollen foul derive,

Petals spread, forced apart,

Flower withered, hence depart.

Born from rot, child of disgrace,

With names 明月and Sarah graced,

A new flower, a Rafflesia, flies doth attract,

Their proboscis, in her gut and birth tract,

But this rafflesia remains albino fair,

Despite the flies’ rip and tear,

And her father, on poetry drunk,

Lust dripping, gayly sung:




Halt your words, dear Sarah!

Heavens! What abomination!

You are not the Rafflesia, albino or otherwise,

You are my fair Edelweiss!

May love find us old, (experienced), but ne’er apart!

My trodden life

Beats with your heart!

Well! Wait no longer, bring me to your study!

SARAH Oh Brendon, be not hasty!


I swear I should avenge,

This wrong I seek to mend!

Hark, the wail of a vengeful man!

Sarah, on my life, on my love,

I swear to you,

I shall save thee from the horrors of thy father and compatriots!

If thy trust me, then come and plant a kiss

Softly on my cheek.

I care not that you art no virgin,

But for your pure soul and untainted morality.



Brendon, I bid thee,

Come not to you, but come instead with me,

To the bowels of my study-room,

Where we can confer ‘bout my doom,

In secret, away from prying eyes,

In Doctor’s counsel, we shall devise.

Not many know of my fate,

Jane (my dearest friend) knows, and this knowledge thy ate.


Is this a review?



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Points: 278
Reviews: 1

Wed Dec 01, 2021 2:54 pm
zweillousy wrote a review...

Hi Luci! Overall a great piece of work, with some Romeo and Juliet references which reinforce that this is a love story despite the gore. Sarah's rant is a well-written poem, clearly elucidating her feelings while making use of rich imagery of a flower and its pollinators. The part written in Mandrin was quite unexpected though. Although it does illustrate the context that Sarah comes from an Asian family, many readers might not get the joke involved. Perhaps you can add a footnote explaining what the part means and what the joke here is, so that non Chinese-speaking readers will understand? Otherwise, it is a well-written piece!

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Points: 0
Reviews: 0

Fri Nov 26, 2021 9:42 pm
Luci Cae says...

Hi, Luci here. I just wanted to post a comment elaborating a bit more on the choice of rhyme scheme in my piece. As mentioned, the erratic rhyme scheme is a deconstruction of renaissance norms and a critique of the tendency to romanticize gruesome tales. Especially in the context of Senecan tragedy and revenge tradition, events are bloody and graphic, yet the language is refined and carefully curated. The dichotomy creates cognitive dissonance, which can cause the subject matter to be interpreted as "beautifully tragic in a twisted fashion". What I aim to do here is to completely strip the intricate beauty from the retelling of events, leaving a superficially shiny shell of a rhyme scheme coating unfiltered, unmediated horror. In short, I just don't quite like renaissance norms.

As mentioned in my reply to @Plume, word play and rhyme is portrayed as devilish and demonic. Is it inherently evil then? Not necessarily. I would like the readers to consider the case of Sarah, who eloquently speaks a self-composed poem in the upcoming act 1 scene 2. What could this mean for the character? I shall not spoil any readers, though I suspect @Plume is my only reader at the moment :(. Renaissance plays are just so hard to read, from allusions to the greek gods and concepts such as courtly love and the music of the spheres, it takes a great deal of knowledge to truly appreciate such a piece of work. Also, I would like to ask something of Plume. Is it alright if I include your reviews in a finalised transcript of the play as footnotes? No pressure, just casually state your opinions. i just find your reviews insightful.

I am just a poor artist girl trying to write a good story to be appreciated, haha. But that's alright :).

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672 Reviews

Points: 81482
Reviews: 672

Sun Nov 21, 2021 11:17 pm
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Plume wrote a review...

Hey there! Plume here, with a review!

As someone who adores reading and writing scripts, I was so excited to see your piece in the green room!! It very much gives me Greek classic vibes, what with the chorus and the references to gods, with a bit of Shakespeare mixed in, too. It was full of rich vocabulary, and you did such a great job of establishing the tone of the piece right away. Nice work!

One thing I enjoyed about this was how consistent and believable your writing voice was. I'm not an expert on archaic language patterns, but it sounded very nice to me. I loved how consistent you were able to make it while still giving each character a distinct. The problem you've presented is one I feel happens in a lot of classics, so I enjoyed that bit of homage to the age-old tales. I'm very curious to see how you continue with this.

One thing I did wonder about throughout the piece is your rhyme scheme. There were certain lines that had end rhymes, and then some that didn't. They would be spaced differently too; sometimes you'd have rhymes every other line, sometimes it would be two isolated lines. I thought that your piece might be improved if you made the flow and rhyme scheme more consistent. Of course, it's also possible that this is a rhyme scheme I'm not familiar with that could be an archaic form used in older plays. I'd love to hear your reasoning behind the unique rhyme scheme!


And enlighten her of her Music of er Spheres.

I think that that "er" is supposed to be "her?" Not quite sure, though. Just thought I'd bring it up in case it was a mistake.

Overall: great job!! I think you've got a really interesting start here, and I'm curious to see how you'll continue/how you'll put your own spin on it. I look forward to reading more! Until next time!!

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Luci Cae says...

Thanks for the encouragement! There is indeed a reason for the chaotic (for the lack of a better word) rhyme scheme used. Some spoilers here, but here are a few lines from the start of the second scene:

Oh! Brendon, enough with the rhymes!
For they are merely the twinkling of a starry mind,
The language of infernal fire-flies
That erratically blink to fool our eyes
With false paradise.

There is some double meaning behind these lines. On one hand they are a critique of the literary technique - during the renaissance, writers and poets often used rhyme schemes to display their great wit, but here the erratic rhyme scheme, although seemingly elegant, serves instead as a deconstruction of the romanticization of hideous events such as those told in this particular tale. On the other hand, the use of free verse suddenly breaking into rhyme, the "language of infernal fire-flies" suggests a certain subconscious affinity with hell that Brendon possesses. As for the chorus, Doctor Luci and Mephisto, they themselves are devils, and intentionally rhyme some lines. Hence, elegant language, or word play, is intentionally associated with demonic ideas.

Always do what you are afraid to do.
— E. Lockhart, We Were Liars