The Twelve Days of Christmas
Dramatis Personae... Vesper (the protagonist), Evensong (his love), Hell (love gone wrong), Mother Theresa (compassion), A Big Red Sphere (denial), A Crucifixion (internal conflict).
Day One
367th Branch
Ting!
A faint chime wandered through the air around Vesper. He lay, semi-conscious on the floor of a red, perfectly spherical room. The tinny chord roused him from his doze, and he propped himself up on an elbow. His arm slipped away from underneath him and he fell with an 'oomph' to the floor again. He looked down. He was lying in a pool of blood.
He sighed heavily, muttering some inaudible curse. From behind him he heard a sound and he turned around. Although there were no doors or windows in the sphere, an old woman had somehow gotten in and was standing behind him. She wore a blue shawl and seemed troubled. She was carrying a cross, some nails and a hammer.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Mother Theresa," she said.
Vesper looked down at his body to find it covered in deep gashes and hundreds of tattoos. The pool of blood was his own. He vaguely remembered what was happening. Another day in Hell.
"Come on then, help me up," said Vesper.
Mother Theresa placed the cross and her tools against the side of the room, and helped Vesper out of the slippery crimson pool. She surveyed his broken body carefully.
"Before I start... May we speak a little?"
"Why?" Vesper gave the cross an irritated glance, "I'd rather get this over with."
"I like to know the people here. Is that strange? We could come to know each other."
"I don't quite see the point."
"Don't you want to know why you're here? Why I'm here? I like to know such things."
"I know already. This is Hell. I've committed some terrible crime and been imprisoned in a big, red ball for so long that I can't even remember the terrible crime. You're here to inflict the torture that is applied to me daily by various figures that materialise and dematerialise in my cell at awkward hours. Now let's get it done, I can stand the pain more than the anticipation."
"That is a very simple answer."
"Will you hurry up and crucify me?"
A tear rolled down her old face.
"I don't like what I do, child."
"Oh please. Here we go... Listen lady - I don't want your sob stories. It's hard enough being nailed onto a cross without you twittering on as though you're the one being tortured every day for an eternity."
"Hurting others is my punishment."
"Then let's swap. I'll nail you to the blasted thing, how's that?"
"Haven't you ever loved someone?"
"What? No."
"It was a rhetorical question. Everybody in Hell has loved someone."
"What are you talking about? Get the hammer, please."
"Would you have nailed her to a cross?"
"Yes!"
Vesper was snarling, but he'd admitted her existence for the first time in a long while. Evensong was her name, and no, he wouldn't have nailed her to a cross. He still loved her. Too much to think about her.
"No... I meant no. I wouldn't. Of course I wouldn't."
The old woman smiled.
"Your love for her is strong, for you to try and forget so completely."
"I cannot bear this existence without her. So I choose to forget her."
"I understand. But how do you know she exists herself?"
"They tell me. They tell me where she is. They send me pictures of her."
"Then go to her."
"Look, uhh - what was your name again?"
"Mother Theresa."
"Look Theresa, I'm not sure if you've seen the solid, flawless ball we're standing in but this is a cell. I cannot escape."
"You can. You will. You love her too much not to. You have tried to forget, but you haven't. By your own words, you will not bear your existence here."
Vesper scoffed.
"Thanks. So why is it you're so tearful about crucifying me? Are you in love with me?"
"Yes child, I am. I am the embodiment of compassion. I am blessed with a love of all living things. I am cursed to harm all living things."
"Ouch. Sounds like just the sort of thing they'd laugh about. Hell works in such disturbing ways."
"It is Hell."
"Indeed. In any case, sorry to be so blunt, but please - let's get the pain flowing so I can forget again."
"As you wish."
Weeping, she picked up her tools and nailed him to the cross.
Day One
367th Branch
Ting!
A faint chime wandered through the air around Vesper. He lay, semi-conscious on the floor of a red, perfectly spherical room. The tinny chord roused him from his doze, and he propped himself up on an elbow. His arm slipped away from underneath him and he fell with an 'oomph' to the floor again. He looked down. He was lying in a pool of blood.
He sighed heavily, muttering some inaudible curse. From behind him he heard a sound and he turned around. Although there were no doors or windows in the sphere, an old woman had somehow gotten in and was standing behind him. She wore a blue shawl and seemed troubled. She was carrying a cross, some nails and a hammer.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Mother Theresa," she said.
Vesper looked down at his body to find it covered in deep gashes and hundreds of tattoos. The pool of blood was his own. He vaguely remembered what was happening. Another day in Hell.
"Come on then, help me up," said Vesper.
Mother Theresa placed the cross and her tools against the side of the room, and helped Vesper out of the slippery crimson pool. She surveyed his broken body carefully.
"Before I start... May we speak a little?"
"Why?" Vesper gave the cross an irritated glance, "I'd rather get this over with."
"I like to know the people here. Is that strange? We could come to know each other."
"I don't quite see the point."
"Don't you want to know why you're here? Why I'm here? I like to know such things."
"I know already. This is Hell. I've committed some terrible crime and been imprisoned in a big, red ball for so long that I can't even remember the terrible crime. You're here to inflict the torture that is applied to me daily by various figures that materialise and dematerialise in my cell at awkward hours. Now let's get it done, I can stand the pain more than the anticipation."
"That is a very simple answer."
"Will you hurry up and crucify me?"
A tear rolled down her old face.
"I don't like what I do, child."
"Oh please. Here we go... Listen lady - I don't want your sob stories. It's hard enough being nailed onto a cross without you twittering on as though you're the one being tortured every day for an eternity."
"Hurting others is my punishment."
"Then let's swap. I'll nail you to the blasted thing, how's that?"
"Haven't you ever loved someone?"
"What? No."
"It was a rhetorical question. Everybody in Hell has loved someone."
"What are you talking about? Get the hammer, please."
"Would you have nailed her to a cross?"
"Yes!"
Vesper was snarling, but he'd admitted her existence for the first time in a long while. Evensong was her name, and no, he wouldn't have nailed her to a cross. He still loved her. Too much to think about her.
"No... I meant no. I wouldn't. Of course I wouldn't."
The old woman smiled.
"Your love for her is strong, for you to try and forget so completely."
"I cannot bear this existence without her. So I choose to forget her."
"I understand. But how do you know she exists herself?"
"They tell me. They tell me where she is. They send me pictures of her."
"Then go to her."
"Look, uhh - what was your name again?"
"Mother Theresa."
"Look Theresa, I'm not sure if you've seen the solid, flawless ball we're standing in but this is a cell. I cannot escape."
"You can. You will. You love her too much not to. You have tried to forget, but you haven't. By your own words, you will not bear your existence here."
Vesper scoffed.
"Thanks. So why is it you're so tearful about crucifying me? Are you in love with me?"
"Yes child, I am. I am the embodiment of compassion. I am blessed with a love of all living things. I am cursed to harm all living things."
"Ouch. Sounds like just the sort of thing they'd laugh about. Hell works in such disturbing ways."
"It is Hell."
"Indeed. In any case, sorry to be so blunt, but please - let's get the pain flowing so I can forget again."
"As you wish."
Weeping, she picked up her tools and nailed him to the cross.
posted by Juliet is Bleeding... | 11:12 am
This is excellent! Is it a play? Can I have the part of Mother Theresa? Or maybe you could write Hitler into it for me, so I can play him.
And by the way, I give up, I'm seriously in love with you. Can I nail you to anything?