by Alan Ryker
ASHTON: Maybe this is it. Maybe this is everything.
CUTHBERT: Let this be everything.
ASHTON: Maybe you're right. Maybe there will be nothing after. Maybe there's no other world but this one.
CUTHBERT: I hope so.
ASHTON: Don't worry, Bertie. We're just fading away.
(Spotlight up. Only ASHTON returns to her seat. CUTHBERT exits sadly. Stagelights down)
ASHTON: Of course, you know that there's an afterlife. I mean, the world ended, and yet here I sit talking to you. Dreaming. Alone. The whole time, alone. Sorry. Maybe you feel cheated, that Bertie was just a dream. But you shouldn't. You should feel honored to see what I saw. He's worth remembering.
(Pause. Then gestures to audience while saying)
Why am I justifying myself to my imaginary audience, anyway? These moments of lucidity… I just want to lose myself in dream for good.
(Head in hands pause. Looks up.) I thought that if I held him close enough as we died that we'd dream together. I guess I should have known I'd dream alone. (laughs) I mean, I think he was always my dream, in a way. I used to forget that Bertie wasn't some sort of voice in my head. Sometimes I'd look at him and think, "That's a totally separate person from me," and it blew my mind.
I don't know what happened to Cuthbert. Maybe his soul was chewed up in Cthulhu's foul maw. I like to think that Cthulhu failed, that Atlach-Nacha delivered all our souls into dream, and that somewhere he's dreaming of me. But we all dream alone. You come into the world alone. You die alone. And in between, you dream alone.
(Spotlight down. A few moments of silence and darkness.)
But if you know how, you can dream whatever you like.
(Spotlight up. CUTHBERT sits beside ASHTON. She beams at him, reaches out and takes his hand. At some point during the conversation the spotlight begins to fade, and continues to fade until the last lines are spoken in darkness.)
ASHTON: (To audience) You want us to tell you how we met?
CUTHBERT: (Even more incredulously) You want us to tell you how we met?
ASHTON: Really?
CUTHBERT: Really?
ASHTON: Really?
CUTHBERT: I think they do. (beat) Really?
ASHTON: Every couple has a story, and every one is a lie.
CUTHBERT: A total lie.
ASHTON: Because when you tell a story a hundred times, you start to embellish. You learn what works, what doesn't.
CUTHBERT: Like adding jokes to a stand up act?
ASHTON: What gets laughs. What gets big sappy Awwwws!
CUTHBERT: So it gets cute, is what you're saying.
ASHTON: Exactly.
CUTHBERT: That's not so bad. I'd rather hear a funny, heartwarming lie than the boring truth.
ASHTON: Meh.
CUTHBERT: Hey, our story's pretty heartwarming.
ASHTON: Remember when I knocked you unconscious with a can of tomatoes?
CUTHBERT: Okay, well that wasn't so/
ASHTON: And then chained you to the bed?
CUTHBERT: But that's not how we met. They asked about how we met.
ASHTON: I guess that was kind of cute. Cuthbert and I met in college.
CUTHBERT: Ol' Miskatonic U. We were/
ASHTON: I was telling it. You don't tell it right.
(CUTHBERT holds up his hands and leans back in his chair.)
ASHTON: You know you don't. You've got a terrible memory for this stuff.
CUTHBERT: Oh, and yours is perfect?
ASHTON: I've told this story a thousand thousand times. It's kind of all I have left.
(CUTHBERT leans over and puts his arm around ASHTON.)
CUTHBERT: Hey, it's okay. (beat) You go ahead and tell it.
End of Play
About the Author
Alan Ryker (born 1979) writes good fight scenes because he studies Muay Thai boxing, though not as often as his coach would like. He lives with his wife in Overland Park, a suburb of Kansas City, where he writes both dark and literary fiction, and tests the boundaries of each. He has previously published short fiction in a number of print anthologies and magazines.
Check out his many adventures at his blog, Pulling Teeth at www.alanryker.com. Enjoy his most mundane thoughts by following him on twitter: @alanryker. Friend him on Facebook. And contact him at [email protected].
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