Synopsis:

Till death do us part? For one woman in a suffocating marriage, that may not be fully true. Whilst dragging her husband’s body out to be buried, she hears his voice. He opens his eyes, and begins to speak to her. They talk of their marriage, and the eventual routine a couple falls into. Yet, there is something we are not getting. Her motive. What drives a person to commit murder? What happens when years of commitment are brought to a boiling point. A boiling point punctuated with a bullet.  

 

Character Description:

Woman is  slowly coming apart after killing her husband of many years. She is easily controlled, a side effect of her many years in an abusive marriage.  She is becoming more defiant as she reaches her breaking point. She is grappling with the benefit of her crime vs. the nature of her crime itself.

 

Corpse is manipulative and abusive, he was demanding and possessive in life. He is trying to hold on to his greatest treasure, his wife. He is not, however, not a loving man. He dearly loves his wife, but has backward ideals. He was raised in this generation, he knows no different. He is not an evil man, despite appearances. Corpse can only move head, not his body. He will need woman’s help. He slows gains movement of his body, think reverse rigor mortis. Shot in heart.

 

Both are wealthy, and upper class.

 

Set/Background:

Barren graveyard, foggy and empty. Set in 1940’s

 

Production notes:

 

Takes place at night. Blue and purple lighting/ cyclorama. Dim wash, but still visible. For the part in their home, a visible lighting shift that simulates an interior home. Minimal set. Need a shovel, and a way to simulate a grave. Fog machine set to simulate low lying fog, but not overdone.

 

Script:

 

(off stage) Corpse: Please put the gun down, I’m sorry. I am. You can’t get that upset over such a small thing. I love you, you know. Are you listening to me?

 

(off stage) Woman: I’ll never have to hear you again.

Gunshot heard. Car pulls up. (Can be simulated with lights) Woman steps out. She goes round to back of trunk. Lugs out body of man under tarp. Clearly too heavy for her. She lays it down. Goes back to get shovel. She begins to realize the work ahead of her.

 

Woman: Got to get this sorted, sun is on it’s way up.(Humming jaunty tune, clearly afraid. Sees blood seep from tarp, feels remorse.) I can’t hear his voice. Silence. Oh, god, oh god, oh god. Honey, Honey! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It looks worse than it is, promise. Freedom. Freedom is silence.  (She goes about setting up tools and shovels, as well as cleaning off murder weapon, I’m partial to a gun)

 

Corpse:  Where are you going dear? (Woman turns in shock; his voice is one she never wanted to hear again. She lifts tarp to see his face) Why thank you, I could barely breathe under all that heavy fabric.

 

Woman: (In shock) I hear him. How do I hear him? How? I… shot you. It went straight through you and out the other side. How are you speaking? Thinking? Breathing?

 

Corpse: Was it the gunshot? I figured seeing you under all this moonlight is what took my breath away. Christ, you’re beautiful.

 

Woman: (Slams down shovel to cut him off, clearly afraid) Don’t talk to me, you can’t talk to me. You aren’t real. You aren’t. I can’t hear you. (glancing at corpse)

 

Corpse: I’m as real as the day I died. Come here.

 

Woman: No.

 

Corpse: (Wistful) Can’t a poor man appreciate his wife’s beauty? The moonlight makes you look so striking, it suits you dear. It was that pretty face that drew me to you. Across that old ballroom, there you stood, glinting like the moon in a room full of stars. Everyone paled in comparison.

 

Woman: Please stop. (props corpse upright, lighting a smoke to calm herself. Out of an old habit, she puts cigarette up to corpse’s mouth, hands shaking.)

 

Corpse: Don’t mind if I do.

 

Woman:  I’m sorry. (She quickly redraws her hands from his mouth)

 

Corpse: hmm?

 

Woman:  I said… I’m sorry.

 

Corpse: For what?

 

(There exists a long pause in which both party’s eyes fall upon the shovel, woman’s eyes swivel back to corpse. Make connection. Wife steals it)

 

Corpse: (realizing his defeat, tries to get to root of problem) You know… I always thought it would be one of the men at the bank, or some mistress. Maybe your mother. God she hates… hated… me. Never you, Never thought it would be you. If you don’t my being a little blunt, may I ask you as to why?

 

Woman: Why what?

 

Corpse: (Dropping polite pretenses) (beginning to show true nature) Putting a bullet between my eyes. (Catches self). (Coughs) You are going to tell me. Years. That’s what it was. Years of marriage, come to this.  We had a routine.

 

Woman: A routine?  

 

(The next two lines are said simultaneously, it is intentionally muddled. They yell over each other.)

 

Corpse: Breakfast, then I leave, drinks with the boys, come home to you with dinner on the table, then a pipe, and off to bed.  

Woman: Breakfast, then you leave, prepare for your return, you come home drunk, then a fight, and off to bed.  

 

Both: Food, drink, food, pipe, bed (repeat)

 

(Next two lines also said together)

 

Corpse: Eat a good meal. Relax by the fire. Come home to a loving embrace.

 

Woman: Prep a good meal. Stoke the fire. Hear the door creak open. (Just her speaking now) Dodge your attempt at affection. Then go upstairs and wait for you to fall asleep next to me. Hope that sleep is all you want.

 

Both: Take, possess, behold, contain.

 

Corpse: (scoffing) Man’s got a right to enjoy what this world has to offer.

 

Woman: I spent every day making you comfortable. It was all I had. You never showed an inch of gratitude.

 

Corpse: (Taken aback) You don’t thank someone for doing their job.

 

Woman: (Remorse) I’m sorry. I’m sorry you ended this way. It’s not glorious, I know you wanted a glamorous end. I’m sorry I robbed you of that. (Considering) You were so… vain. You always wanted a picture perfect life. You were willing to fit everyone in that box, through whatever means. Obedience from your wife, a sparkling home, constant promotions, and a hero’s death.

 

Corpse: That’s not an answer.  Tell me. I HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW! TELL ME! (Using what exists of his mobility, he crawls toward her, grasps her hands and pulls her down to his level.) You feel that? Being that close to the Earth, that close to rotting? The decay, it has already begun. I can feel my flesh coming away, my bones turning to ash. You did this to me, you put me here. (Manipulative) The least you can do… is tell me why.

 

Woman:  Because every time I heard your voice I wanted to cry. I despise you. Ever since we were married you took complete control. You didn’t want a wife, you wanted a slave. The idea of wearing your ring makes my flesh crawl. Hearing you breathe beside me in bed reminds me of what you have taken  and will take from me. Sitting across you at the table makes stomach no longer want for food. Your hand on my skin made me want to rip it off. So I sat, day in, day out in a prison where my cellmate was also my jailer. Escape was inevitable, yet divorce was out of the question. (resolve) I took an alternate route.

 

(She turns to look at him, nearly at the shovel. He strikes a pose, leaning on his working arm. To deflect her attention from how close he is to the shovel. She looks at him strangely.)

 

Corpse: Is that so? (He is angry. Is it because she is finally in a place of power?)  

 

Woman: Yes it is.  

 

Do you think I’m having the time of my life? I shot a man, and whether or not you are actually dead, I had the intention of killing you. I didn’t know it at the time, but I wanted to kill you. I am capable of taking life. Do you have any idea how shocking that is to find out about yourself? It was so easy. You were coming toward me, that look in your eyes, the one you get when you want something bad.  I thought about how… free… I’d be without you, and I pulled the trigger.

 

(To self)

 

So easy.

 

Corpse: I’m not someone you need freedom from. I’m the only reason you have any standing in this goddamn world. I’m your wallet, your guardian, your husband!

 

(we now enter a reenactment of their final fight)

 

(Lighting shift)

 

(Corpse gets up and sits in chair as if he is home, smoking a pipe, whatever it takes to establish he is alive now.)

(wife enters from the cold)

 

Corpse: (leading) Where were you?

 

Woman: (startled) Out. I was out. Nothing wrong with that. (To herself) I hear him.

 

Corpse: I’ll ask you again. Where were you?

 

Woman: Why does it matter?

 

Corpse: (Condescending) Because, if you are out there making a fool of yourself, it reflects on me. If you are a fool, I am a fool. If you are dishonourable, I am dishonourable. (smiling, and moving towards her) If you won’t tell me… I’ll have to ask someone else.

 

Woman: (To stop him, saying it out of fear) A pub.

 

(corpse stands, grabs wife’s hands and holds it)

 

Corpse: A pub! A damn pub! Do you know what people would say! My wife is some whore who flaunts herself in brothels and the like!

 

Woman: (Mocking him) Yes. I walked in there in a dress to my thigh! I found the nearest man I could see, and threw myself at him. Oh, you would have loved him dear. He was so sweet, treated me so well. Told be how I reminded him the sun, beautiful and radiant. Said if I were to be his wife he’d never hit me. Here that? A man who wouldn’t hit his wife, how shocking!

 

Corpse: Did you dance? Drink?

 

Woman: Yes. (Hitting her breaking point)

 

Corpse: (spits) whore.

 

Woman: A whore. That’s what you think I am? (Angry) Because I want to enjoy a night, not spend it next to you? Because I want freedom? A stiff drink? I’d love another, right now, actually. (Crescendo) Maybe, just maybe, it’ll dull the pain of all this. Then I can pass out on the living room chair, while you bring me a pipe? Then when we inevitably get in a fight…

 

(He hits her, cutting her off)

Corpse: (Explanatory) Don’t look at me like that, I only do this to maintain your honour. Your beauty. How else are you to know what is right? Look at me. LOOK AT ME.  I AM YOUR HUSBAND LOOK AT ME!

 

(she doesn’t)

(He grabs her arm and pulls her up, making eye contact. He softens. Looks like he wants to kiss her. She looks down again, he pushes her away. Why is she being so cold?)

 

Woman: (once again broken) I’m sorry. (beat)

 

Corpse: (Accepting of her apology, he has spun his guilt onto her) Yes. Yes you are. Come here.

 

(Once again, she doesn’t. The sign of growing defiance.)

 

Corpse: Look. When I want something you get it.  Food, water, clothing, it doesn’t matter. When I want something you get it. And right now… I want you. (hand on her face) In this light… it suits you, you know… this moonlight.

 

Do you know? Do you know how merciful I am? I am so kind to you, so incredibly kind. (To himself)  Feed you, clothe you, pay for you. (He smiles)

 

(He leans in for a kiss. She backs off scrambling for something to protect her. Finding a gun.)

 

Corpse: (realizing he is in  danger, trying to justify his behaviour) Are you upset? You know this is how I am, I can’t change myself. Therapeutic they say. Better to lay hands on your wife then to silently resent her. All the men at the club do it. To protect their purity, they say. A woman must no her standing. You look beautiful… in this moonlight… absolutely beautiful.

 

Woman: Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.

 

Corpse:  Can’t a man appreciate his wife’s beauty?

 

Woman:  (Panics. Pulls trigger.) I can’t hear him. Can’t hear his voice.

 

Corpse: (Falls and crumples at wife’s feet.) Was it because I loved you? Because I protected you? Because I wanted you to be the best you could be?

 

Woman: Yes.

 

Corpse: The rot. That is the worst part. I was beautiful. We were beautiful. The skin I used to love you, touch you, returning to the Earth. The muscles I used to spin you around are now stiff and immobile. The eyes I used to take in every inch of your face are crusting shut. How could you…

 

(He doesn’t move, or speak.)

 

Woman: I’m sorry. Do you hear me? I’m sorry. (He isn’t responding). I’M SORRY.

I can’t hear you. (sinking into madness) It is not your fault, you knew nothing else. It is just… the weight. The weight of it all came down on me and I had the trigger to release it in my hand. He’s dead? I did it. If it is any consolation.. I will always feel remorse.

 

I loved you.

 

I love you…

 

I love that you will never touch me ever again.

 

(She shakes him, again no response. She realizes he won’t respond, and begins to dig grave. As she finishes her work, he speaks one last time…)

 

Corpse: You look beautiful…in this moonlight.

 

Woman: I’ve always liked the way I look in the sun.

 

(Sunlight rises slowly over graveyard, woman sets to her task of burial)

 

Author Unknown. “Gif Death Black and White Sad Suicide Horror b&w Dead Grave Sadness Tomb Funeral Tombstone Bury Inhumation Burried Tgifs.” Rebloggy!, 0AD, rebloggy.com/post/gif-death-black-and-white-sad-suicide-horror-b-w-dead-grave-sadness-tomb-funeral/83896312928.