DEMON. (Her voice reverberates throughout the stage. Only MAD GIRL exists for her in this moment.)
You know how lonely I get, honey,
waiting for you to come home.
I get so lonely, I lie down and listen to flowers grow.
We could be stars together.
You could shine and I would explode.
I’ll build storm clouds for you
to dream on.
Cities for you
to rule in.
Oh, but even though I get so lonely,
I’ll only wait for you, honey,
Wait until you come home and see
What a garden I’ve grown for you
All of these beautiful flowers
All of these beautiful trees.
THE WITCH. Love is the worst kind of pain.
THE SAINT. Then you’ve never been in pain.
[THE DEMON is still singing. Her hair is coming undone. Her lipstick is smeared down her chin, as if melting]
DEMON. (Continuing to sing)
You know how lonely I get, honey,
waiting for you to come home.
I get so lonely I lie down and—
[The microphone stops working, cutting the demon off.]
THE WITCH. I’m done with children’s games.
MAD GIRL. She wasn’t finished. Let her finish.
THE WITCH. This isn’t how the ritual works.
THE SAINT. You’re a new goddess? Then do something different.
THE WITCH. (To THE SAINT) I’ve never heard you be so disrespectful. Something must be wrong. I’ll forgive you this once.
MAD GIRL. (Pulling at her hair, in mental pain) How does the song go again? I can’t remember.
[THE WITCH crosses the room toward MAD GIRL and THE SAINT, trailing behind her a gown eaten away by dust, sewn together with bones. The tubing attaching her head to the wall stretches out as she moves. The dogs follow after her, sniffing at the feet. MAD GIRL pulls away from THE SAINT’s arm. She is shaking all over. THE WITCH touches MAD GIRL’s chin.]
THE WITCH. Listen carefully to me.
[MAD GIRL appears barely coherent. Her head is lolling against her shoulder. The dogs sniff at her arms and legs. Her clothes appear to be disintegrating. THE WITCH embraces her, but the motion is aggressive, like grabbing a disobedient toddler.]
THE WITCH. Are you listening to me? I’m going to give you a potion to wake you up.
MAD GIRL. (Delirious, trying to pull away) I am awake. I’m only in the wrong play.
[Fog rolls onto the stage. The grinding noise coming through the walls get louder. DEMON has stopped singing. Her hair is completely undone. The microphone is gone. The blue light fades, and DEMON steps down toward MAD GIRL. THE WITCH releases MAD GIRL, who goes spinning into the DEMON’s arms]
DEMON (To MAD GIRL). I could sew you a robe of stars.
MAD GIRL. I’m not my mother.
DEMON. You have her mouth.
MAD GIRL. Don’t say that ever again.
DEMON. You have her head.
MAD GIRL. I won’t be her. I won’t.
DEMON. Whatever you are, you’ll never be the same again.
[The grinding noise through the wall grows even louder.]
MAD GIRL. What the fuck is that noise?
[DEMON kisses MAD GIRL on the mouth, leaving a smear of lipstick]
THE WITCH. A new kind of medicine.
Scene Two
[They are all standing on the overgrown lawn of THE WITCH’s dark, dilapidated house. The lighting is dim, to suggest nighttime. THE WITCH is summoning ghouls to build a giant machine in the middle of the lawn. Ghouls crawl out of her skin. They fall from her wrists like transparent slugs, and, on the ground, they writhe into human shapes. When they’re fully formed, they pick up scraps of metal and bend them, weld them together, with their teeth.]
MAD GIRL. Why can’t anyone hear me screaming?
THE SAINT. This is a dark city and a lonely city.
MAD GIRL. I’m going crazy. You were supposed to help me.
[Laughter comes from every direction, including the audience]
THE SAINT. I am helping you.
MAD GIRL. You can’t even stand up straight.
THE SAINT. (Laughing.) You know I’m a fuck up. I did too much cocaine.
THE WITCH. Have some more. Mad girl, you too. You look sober.
MAD GIRL. No more drugs, okay? No more drugs. That was the worst acid I’ve ever had. I was fighting lions in the coliseum for a thousand years.
THE WITCH. I am the queen here. You do as I say.
[The dogs bound out of the front door of the dilapidated house, which is really an empty frame, rolled onto the stage. There are now ten or twelve dogs instead of six. They’ve grown bigger. Their eyes are no longer blue, but silver. Some of them carry deerskin pelts in their mouths. Others wear the ribcages and horns of deer. They surround MAD GIRL.]
THE WITCH. Hold out your hand.
MAD GIRL. What is happening to me?
THE WITCH. Haven’t you ever been to a higher state of consciousness?
MAD GIRL. If that’s what this feels like, I don’t want to be.
[One of the dogs spits slobbery pills into MAD GIRL’s hand.]
MAD GIRL. Gross.
THE WITCH. Can’t you see I’m trying to help you? Take them.
MAD GIRL. No way.
THE WITCH. I’ve sunk Viking ships on hydra-headed pieces of ice. I’ve conquered distant galaxies with ships made from the ether of ghosts. I’ve taken the Internet to parallel universes and used it to enslave kings with its knowledge. Do as I say, and take those fucking pills.
MAD GIRL. (Backing away). I don’t care. I won’t.
[The DEMON appears behind MAD GIRL. She moves. It’s sensual and slow. She wraps her arms around MAD GIRL, mirroring her body, and presses her ear into her mouth.]
DEMON. All you have to do is hold your arms out, and I’ll take your hands.
[MAD GIRL, reluctantly, swallows the whole handful of pills. Her eyes widen and her entire body goes slack. She falls onto the grass in slow motion. The ghouls step over MAD GIRL’s inert body as they continue to work on the machine. None of the other characters on stage move or speak, as if they’re frozen in time. This continues for several uncomfortable, long minutes.]
THE WITCH. (Her voice startling and unfamiliar after the silence) She’s hopeless. She’s not going to wake up.
THE SAINT. You don’t know her like I do.
[DEMON bends down to MAD GIRL, her hair trailing over MAD GIRL’s eyes, her mouth. MAD GIRL has gone unresponsive. She is in a distant universe. We can assume she is having the worst trip of her life.]
DEMON. (Speaking to the inert MAD GIRL) You can push through fear to the other side. It’s like piercing a membrane.
THE WITCH. If Mad Girl could only get past this petty idea of consequence and causality, she’d transcend her worthless human consciousness.
DEMON. (Looking up at THE WITCH) That doesn’t sound right.
THE SAINT. (To THE WITCH) What are you talking about?
THE WITCH. Never mind, I forget. Most things are still made out of meat.
[The machine groans. Its mechanical arms move up and down, as if being pulled by levers from the inside. It is painted a dark black, like the ghouls themselves. MAD GIRL writhes in the grass, choking.]
THE WITCH. (Looking down at MAD GIRL.) I will admit. She is strong, and brave. But old goddesses can be so stupid sometimes.
THE SAINT. (Pointing upwards) Look up.
[THE WITCH, THE SAINT, and DEMON look up into the sky. Baby spiders like black wisps, floating on almost-invisible, thin spider webs, are floating above them on currents of air.]
THE SAINT. Where are they going?
THE WITCH. Toward the city. Like all things made of meat. They go there to die.
DEMON. Never kill a spider. If you do, they’ll never show you the way again.
[THE SAINT and DEMON continue to stare at the spiders flo
ating past. The dogs surround them, barking and slobbering. They bite the air, trying to eat the spiders that float too low.]
[THE SAINT kneels beside MAD GIRL and shakes her. MAD GIRL is unresponsive. Oil drips from the mouth of the machine and flows around them, killing the grass. They now appear to be standing on an island, surrounded by oil. The rushing sound of the river pierces the walls of the stage. DEMON looks around, searching for the source of the sound. Some of the baby spiders, flying past, snarl into her hair.]
DEMON. She’s getting close.
THE WITCH. It’s too soon. She’ll destroy us, and we’ll have to do this all over again.
THE SAINT. My brother. I could kill him for what he did.
DEMON. Her anger is like a bullet train. Her anger is like the Gulf War. Her anger is as vast and meaningless as dark matter.
THE SAINT. We’re going to die if Lily doesn’t wake up.
WITCH. Listen to me. Listen.
[The grinding of the machine stops. The rushing of the river stops. The ghouls fade away.]
WITCH. She’s never going to wake up.
Act II
Scene One
[The stage is a Viking long ship on a foam-white sea. It’s nighttime, and the stars ignite like firecrackers. MAD GIRL writhes in pain on the narrow, wooden deck of the ship, with PLUTO, licking at her face. Ghouls row the oars, faceless and silent. THE SAINT adjusts the sails.]
[A scream echoes off in the distance, somewhere far off across the fog-covered water. MAD GIRL lurches up, gasping.]
MAD GIRL. I’m confused. When will this play be over?
THE SAINT. (Still working the sails.) Your brain, in its fragile state, is unable to comprehend the situation. You’ve stopped processing reality in the normal way.
MAD GIRL. You mean I took too many drugs. This isn’t real.
THE SAINT. Reality has nothing to do with this. Focus on the real issue.
[MAD GIRL gets to her feet and runs to the side of the ship. She vomits white into the foam-white sea.]
MAD GIRL. (Wiping vomit from her mouth, trying to keep her footing on the rocking ship) And what is the real issue?
THE SAINT. Something is after you.
[An enormous, black tentacle rises out of the foam-white water. It’s darker than the dark sky; its suckers are like luminescent, radioactive spots. It slaps the water, causing huge waves in the water. MAD GIRL falls backwards on the wood as the ships rocks back and forth.]
MAD GIRL. (Frantic) Did you see that? There’s a monster out there!
THE SAINT. (Still working the sails, not really paying attention) It’s the wrong one.
MAD GIRL. But what do I do?
THE SAINT. We keep sailing.
MAD GIRL. But it’s going to kill us. We need to get rid of it.
THE SAINT. (Bending down to pick up something from the deck) Well, this is yours anyways.
[THE SAINT tosses MAD GIRL the hunter’s bow and a quiver of arrows. MAD GIRL catches both. She loops the quiver around one shoulder. She holds the bow, run her fingers up and down the wood. She points the bow out into the water, tests the string, as if she is familiar with this weapon. As if she’s used it before.]
MAD GIRL. I have a disease.
THE SAINT. They’ve told you many lies.
MAD GIRL. This is The Witch’s fault.
THE SAINT. No. There are many people to blame, but not her.
[The giant tentacle rises up above the water once more, and then slaps the water. The Viking long ship goes into a tailspin. MAD GIRL, PLUTO, and THE SAINT struggle to keep from being thrown overboard. The shadows do not move, and are not moved by the spinning of the ship.]
MAD GIRL. Someone is calling me from the ocean.
[MAD GIRL braces her feet against the side of the ship. The dragon-headed mast begins to tip toward the waters, about to sink. MAD GIRL notches an arrow in her bow. She takes aim at the tentacles rising out of the waters]
THE SAINT. You’ve killed this monster before.
MAD GIRL. Then, why is it still here?
[The tentacles grab the sails and rip them apart. Sparks, lights, electricity, barrel down from the sky. The shadows have stopped rowing. The oars fall into the ocean. The shadows remain motionless]
THE SAINT. There will always be monsters to kill.
MAD GIRL. Just tell me how to fix this. I have a thousand degree fever.
THE SAINT. Everything is telling you. Look where we are. I’m trying my best because I’ve never met anyone with a heart like yours.
[As the ship sinks, MAD GIRL struggles to hold on. She slings the quiver of arrows over her shoulder and clutches the bow to her chest. Her deerskin blows in the wind, but her antlers remain fixed, as if fused to her skull.]
MAD GIRL. When will this be over?
THE SAINT. Not now. Maybe not ever. But I’ll always be here with you.
[Blood drips down the arms and chest of THE SAINT. The torn white sails clothe her like a shroud and lift her into the air.]
THE SAINT. You have to try to remember.
MAD GIRL. It’s destroying everything. Won’t you help me?
[MAD GIRL shoots another arrow into the tentacle. One of its glowing suckers bursts, showering her with hot metal, incinerating half her face.]
THE SAINT. It’s like bursting through a membrane.
[MAD GIRL falls off the Viking long ship and into the water. She falls and falls through the ocean. The hunter’s bow falls with her. The dead Kraken falls with her. It’s spitting sparks, convulsing, and its flesh is necrotizing and turning gray. Because this is psychosis, MAD GIRL doesn’t need to breathe.]
[MAD GIRL stretches her arms outwards, down into the water. Two pale arms reach up and grasp them. They touch. Their fingers intertwine.]
DEMON. (Her voice echoing through the water) I’m with you. If I whisper to you from the bottom of the earth, all the seas will boil.
MAD GIRL. Hold me.
DEMON. I am holding you. Wake up.
Scene Two
[DEMON stands on the stage behind the stage from Act 1, Scene 1. There is no microphone. A blue spotlight illuminates DEMON, but everything else is dark. She looks almost human in her makeup and jazz outfit. She’s holding PLUTO in her arms, petting her head. Everyone else is gone.]
DEMON. Lily.
DEMON. (After a pause) Lily. Halloween only comes once a year.
[From offstage, a saxophone plays softly]
DEMON. Lily, every deer grows antlers. Can’t you feel your body beginning to take on a new shape? Can you feel that pain shooting through your head? Your skull is becoming a crown. You don’t know it yet, because your bone is covered in velvet like blood. When you’re ready, the velvet will shed away, and the bones will die, but you will be left with a most beautiful treasure. And I’ll be there with you, to lead you to our palace beyond the garden. Beyond the woods.
DEMON. Remember the night you crawled into our tree to hide from her? I was hiding that night too, you know. She was angry then, but she’s angrier now. Do you remember her name? I’m sure you do.
[The saxophone stops playing]
DEMON. Come. Halloween is almost here.
[PLUTO jumps from her arms and runs off the stage.]
DEMON. I’ll only say this once.
Part Five: A Letter to the Girl That Ate My Skin
My dearest demon:
I’m sure you remember Halloween night when I became an apocalyptic angel with torn netting wings and a toy pistol at my hip. Saint Peter wore a bloodied crown of thorns, and told me she dressed as herself. The Witch, who went by the name of Genie those days, sat on the couch in blue velvet, with a basket of candy to give to children that never visited.
As for you, well, you were never into costumes, baby.
At midnight we snorted cocaine together on the white edge of the bathtub while boys pounded on the door. When Saint Peter unlocked the door I ran out and the boys stroked my hair, my cheek.
“Is that pistol real?” they asked. “Do y
ou have any drugs?”
“Kiss me, I’m Salvador Dali,” I said.
I think what I meant to say was, “I am drugs,” but I don’t think they were listening to me anyway.
I went into the kitchen, where more boys took turns drinking shots of cold vodka. I took shot after shot.
“I feel invincible,” I said as I crouched on the ground over my broken shot glass.
Later, you came to me through the bathroom window, as I lay on the floor, shivering and nauseous. In the next room, Saint Peter, Genie, and the boys laughed. Vomit rimmed the toilet rimmed the hem of my dress.
"Why are you on the floor? Weren't you going to be a scientist?" you asked.
My dearest demon, I can tell that you’ve never had a girlfriend before.
And you speak as if you’ve never used your voice, like an Ophelia, crippled, with her hands pulled back, whispering lisps. Maybe until that day when I first crawled inside your tree, you never spoke at all.
From the window, you held your hand out to me. I stood shaking and you led me outside onto the lawn, underneath the rustling stars. In your arms I became a girl of exposed nerves, without skin or blood.
You whirled me around until I was dizzy and at the edge of the lawn, on the glittering concrete, vomited again. I wiped at the back of my mouth, heaving, ribs splayed out. In my delirium, I bent down and kissed your feet.
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