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The Most Loyal Friend

               Marcy moved slowly about the house, her joints aching as she went. Each step she took was careful – avoiding the obstacles in her way, making sure not to disturb those resting nearby.             Making her way to the first room, Marcy enjoyed the silence of the night. She could hear animals rustling in the bushes outside, – likely the family of bunnies that had taken residence in the vegetation by the front porch – but she ignored the sounds now. She would deal with that later.             She reached the doorway of the first room and paused. The elderly woman that lay in the bed was unaware of the eyes watching her. In sleep, her lined face was free from pain, and the soft breaths that left the woman’s mouth broke the stillness of the room, offering Marcy comfort. The woman often woke throughout the night, sleepi...
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The Cruelty of Decisions

Set Plain room with a table, two chairs, and stacks of paper on the table. Characters DOROTHEA: Woman looking to be in her 70s; Wearing a three-piece business suit and glasses. ODESSIA: Woman looking to be in her 40s; more casual than Dorothea. Wearing a button-down shirt and jeans. Production requirements:             A table             Two chairs             Papers Synopsis: Two fate-like entities work to decide how and when humans will die, but argue over the cruelty of their profession. ODESSIA Dead at age ten? DOROTHEA Slipped off the ladder while helping his dad. ODESSIA That’s just cruel. The dad will descend into alcoholism while the guilt eats away at him. And then he’ll kill a grandad of 11 who’s just trying to cross the street. DOROTHEA That’s how it goes. People die, and the cyc...
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What's Your Favorite Color?

“What’s your favorite color?”             I thought hard about my answer. It was important. What color was mine? “Yellow,” I told him.             He smiled, “why yellow?”             He should know the answer to that. “It’s happy. And I feel bad for yellow. No one ever says yellow is their favorite.” He didn’t laugh at me like my cousins did when I told them I felt bad for yellow. “You can’t feel bad for a color. It doesn’t have feelings,” they would say. “And sun and dandelions are yellow,” I continued. “And ducks.” It’s only right if your favorite color is the color of some of your favorite things. Except my Dog. She wasn’t yellow. She was black, but black couldn’t be my favorite color. I didn’t like the dark. I looked down at my feet and squished the grass between my toes. There were no dandelions around. Only ...
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