MARCH SADNESS - A Symphony of Sorrow

[pumpkinhollow]

SYMPHONY OF SORROW

If the Audience Would Please Take Their Seats

You find yourself at the theatre.

You may be asking how you got here, why you are here, when did you arrive. But none of that matters, does it? Nothing matters. Whether you are shocked at yourself for thinking so or whether you have known that nothing matters for years on end does not matter either. Whatever meaning there was to be had in any of this escapes you now. Who you were and what you wanted, what you valued and stood for, it all seems now like such a hazy dream. Out of reach.

There is a ticket in your hand. It tells you where to go. You follow it dutifully. Ticket stubs are exchanged for playbills. A schedule of performances. Whatever. You numbly proceed to where you belong. Performers and stage crew to their places, orchestra to the pit, workers to their positions. All with the knowledge that there can be only pain.

A four-armed conductor in moth-eaten robes raises his baton, and there is music.

You deserve this.

You deserve this.

You deserve this.

Observer’s Overture

First Movement in E Minor

adagio, con dolore
PP

Lights down on the chorus, who sits in the stands. They are playing the role of the audience. Ad lib spoken word between chorus members seated near one another. Soft music begins to swell eerily.

Lights up on the stage. A performance begins, apparently in media res, where the chorus is meant to observe.

vacillante, improvvisato
cresc. P

The performers on stage play out their acts, appearing fearful. The chorus ad libs quiet uncertainty from the stands. Some of them will look down at their playbill and find their own name on the schedule of acts to come. There is a brief description on the page of the act that is scheduled for them. It is clear by the state of the ones already on stage that this isn’t something they have a choice in.

Chorus members attempt to rise from their seats, but cannot. Not yet. Foreshadowing to a later movement. For now, they must endure the overture.

Opera Infernale

Second Movement in Various Keys
( A medley of vignettes, performed in various styles)

chorale concerto a tutti, con affetto

F

Various chorus members rise between songs and make their way to the green room, where they are costumed. They have some time to talk with other incoming acts. They will find themselves and their loved ones being prepared for their acts.

segue

Those who performed before stop in the green room again. They look drained. A fate which awaits the incoming acts.

segue

On the stage, each act is a musical recreation of trauma. A worst fear, a most painful moment, an act of cruelty, a time of hardship. The styles will vary accordingly. If the other players in a given tale are present, they will receive their role without question. If a cast member has no fellow performers from their own world present, an understudy will be chosen to play any other roles from those that they are close to. Everyone is off book. Vocal quality is adjusted to match the conductor’s standards. Staff ensures there are no interruptions. The show must go on.

CODA: Für Nimona
A Coda in A Minor

There is a stranger in the green room, unmoving. Pale glowing eyes peer out from an ungulate-shaped void perched atop a high end suit. Antlers leer overhead. He is waiting for someone. Staff take no notice of him.

Ensemble's Lament

Third Movement in G Minor

bocca chiusa
PPP

There are other places to be besides the stage. Other roles to play.

pesante

Behind the stage, the stage crew toil under Baritone, the stage manager and the Viscount of Suffering. There is a pipe organ built into the man’s chest, and the bell of a horn where his heart ought to be. It shows. He is as cruel as he is miserable. He runs a tight ship.

declamando, letando

There are others in the pit, if they have the musical skill for it. And while this part of the performance is managed by a kinder sort, the Contessa of False Comforts is not so named for no reason.

The opera is long. There are no intermissions. The orchestra plays until their lungs ache and their fingers bleed, while Sonata assures them that it will all be over soon. Surely she cannot be lying. Surely there must be an end…

freddo, pietoso

Just outside the auditorium, there is work for the chorus serving food and drinks, taking ticket stubs for the endless stream of audience members, cleaning messes, or all other manner of soulless work. Perhaps these ensemble members simply did not interest the Conductor. Or it could be that they were made more miserable elsewhere.

Reprise - Observer’s Overture

Fourth Movement in E Major

impetuoso
FF It would seem that once a chorus member’s concerto is complete, they are free to move about the premises. At least until they are scheduled in a supporting role for another soloist. This means a chance to explore--- or escape.

presto repente, bellicoso
cresc.

Those attempting to escape will be met with resistance, however. Guarding the doors are shades, creations of the Conductor who can wear the faces of those held dear by those that look upon them. Escape, more likely, will come from within.

Members of the chorus who attempt to do battle with the Conductor, however, will find themselves up against something far more dangerous. Figures of glass, in all different shapes. Some abstract and solid, some hollow and human-like, and everywhere in between. Perhaps some chorus members will find one to be familiar.

The Hero will need an ensemble of her own to make it through and strike at the Conductor. Perhaps a resistance can be formed in a hidden location near the green room.

Homeward Aria

Fifth and Final Movement in C Major

tiempo di fanfara, vittorioso
F

When a dagger of Aster is driven into the heart of Prince Efrain of Sorrow’s Song, at last, the illusion fades. The members of the chorus relinquish their roles and find themselves on the summit of Crane’s Ridge.

It will be an arduous journey home, but it can be done with the solace that there is one less Demon Prince to trouble Pumpkin Hollow. Music in a joyful major key swells, then decrescendos.

enfatico, mancando poco a poco

| CONTENT WARNINGS: altered states of consciousness, entrapment, grief, depression, mood control, loss of bodily autonomy |

Comments

[hate_gettin_older]

[Christ, he knows exactly where they are; he doesn't need to see the axes and the carved-up fish to recognize it. His skin crawls, and his stomach feels like it's about to fall out of him.

What falls out of him instead is a verse of his own, the words pouring out of his mouth while Valdis is still singing, his voice overlapping hers and forming an uncanny harmony.

CURTIS and EDGAR do not look at each other as they sing.]

EDGAR
Whatever befalls, I follow you now,
Ever at your side, into any danger,
I know what I risk, with eyes open I follow,
I see them, I see them, not one will touch you.

[Curtis never said anything like that to him, he never said anything like that back -- but it's what they both meant, it's what they both knew they meant. The words repeat and echo a few times, their voices climbing and crossing each other, high to low and back again.]

[redlightgreenlight]

[Valdis hesitates again, but the magic is stronger than she is.]

CURTIS
[spoken] Be careful.

EDGAR
[spoken]Yeah. You too.

CURTIS
[sung, on a single long note] Forward!

[A wordless chanting chorus begins, and battle is joined, in the form of dance. Stylized as it is, the combat is clearly brutal; figures on both sides fall and do not rise again. At one point EDGAR makes a whirling leap to knock down an ENFORCER coming at CURTIS's unprotected back; as they both fall, CURTIS drives a blow down at the fallen ENFORCER and then pulls EDGAR to his feet. The battle continues, until –]

ENFORCER, offstage right
Ice on the tracks! Impact!

[A deafening crash. The set shakes, and REBELS and ENFORCERS alike stagger and topple to the floor. Glittering fragments fly past the "windows". There is a moment of stillness; then, as the dancers begin to rise, darkness sweeps across the stage as the train enters a tunnel. The battle music stops short, replaced by a low vibrato of strings over the neverending drumbeat of the train's motion.]

[It doesn't stop, all she can do is play along, and really, there's no reason not to just yet.]

[abhorrently]

[the tugs, the stress upon her body and mind - oh, she's seething throughout this entire affair, was seething ever since they told her what to do - and no, she'll dress herself, thank you, so angry that her throat closes and will not speak. but this little production, this intrusion into her head makes her want to bash her skull into the wall and ensure there's nothing wriggling in there, that this demonic compulsion can only ride so far until her feet move in time to the pulse of the music-]

[A tight spotlight illuminates MINISTER MASON, played by Fever, flanked by FRANCO THE ELDER (Erik Osborne) and FRANCO THE YOUNGER (Max Maximum). MASON wears a spotless white uniform, while the two FRANCOs wear crisp gray suits. They stand atop a raised platform; nothing else can be clearly seen.]

MASON
Treacherous, ungrateful filth that you are!
You barbarians of the Tail-Section, who from the start
Have owed your lives to the divine Wilford's kindness,
Who for eighteen years have glutted yourselves
On the milk of his generous breast,
Now before the sacred water station itself,
Repay his sweet charity with brutish violence!
Oh vulgar, villainous savages!

[As MASON sings, one by one the masks worn by the ENFORCERS are illuminated by glowing pairs of eyes in the darkness. They can see; the REBELS, beginning to be visible in silhouette, cannot.]

[and if there is venom and malice in her singing, sharp as the blades she carries close to her, it's not at anyone on this stage. the vitriol only heightens the emotions, keeps things tight, makes her want to rip this damned clothing off her body, and it hurts, it hurts-]

MASON
You who would not heed my warning,
To know your place, to keep your place,
This chaos, this ruin, is the doom you have chosen.
It shall be most fitting, and a great satisfaction:
Precisely seventy-four percent of you shall die.

[MASON draws out a pair of opera glasses, and steps back to observe as the ENFORCERS advance.]

[she doesn't see them. the opera glasses are set to another purpose, looking for the hands that are running this show. she'll fucking kill them, she swears it, if this show demands blood then it will be spilt, just let her move.]

[Max & Erik Combined]

[maximumcake]

[Max's eyes are shiny with unshed tears--not from sorrow but from rage as he's forced to march out onto the stage. He's already watched two of his loves unwillingly participate in this gruesome performance, and now he joins two more of his closest companions in the terrible act. He's grateful that he doesn't yet have lines, because he doesn't trust his own voice to speak them, but he has a terrible suspicion about what's coming. He knows enough of this story to dread where it ends.

Erik, on Fever's other side, wears a stiffly blank expression as he steps out in time with the other two, but even his own careful control is slipping. How dare they. How dare they use him as a puppet in their twisted play, and how dare they force the same on Max beside him. His jaw clenches so tight his teeth squeak together, but as he has no lines, he has no choice but to stand there and watch it all unfold.]

[hate_gettin_older]

[Edgar struggles to move against the direction, to say something that isn't sung. The sight of Fever flanked by Max and Erik, costumed as Front, as Mason and her stooges, hits him low in the gut; the pain only lasts a moment before it's consumed by impotent rage. He can't do a thing except play out the scene, toward the end he knows is coming.]

[The battle begins again, the music going darker and more discordant. The REBELS turn blindly, some swinging at empty air, as the ENFORCERS move with purpose to fell them.]

[Center stage, an extremely narrow spotlight -- barely a sliver of illumination -- crosses first CURTIS and then EDGAR, neither facing the other. The music slows, bass notes stretching long and resonant, higher strings jittering up and down above them. The combat slows to match, ENFORCERS and REBELS moving in slow motion.]

CURTIS
We cannot fall like this, not like this,
With victory so nearly in our grasp;
Whatever befalls, we go forward,
The dark is only dark ...

EDGAR (in counterpoint)
Ever at your side, into any danger,
Eyes open but blind – how can I fight them?
How can I see them? The dark is too dark --

[The sliver of spotlight lands on CURTIS again as he stops, eyes widening, and then turns to shout-sing back toward stage left.]

CURTIS
Chan! We need fire!

[EDGAR and the other REBELS take up the call, singing fire, fire, fire in building harmony. A percussionist in the orchestra plays a rasping, rising slide that somehow evokes the sound of a match striking.]

[yournewsidekick]

[Lights up at far stage left on CHAN, a small child holding aloft a blazing torch. A bright pink streak marks his hair. As he runs toward the battle in slow motion, he transforms to ANDREW, a scrawny gangling man with bushy red hair and beard, missing one arm, a pink bandage wrapped around the stump; then to GREY, a younger man, dark hair with the same pink stripe as Chan's, and many words tattooed over his bare torso.]

[The whole transformation flows in one smooth, meticulous containment. Not a single hair out of place or a foot out of step. There is no room for error, let alone something as bold as creative interpretation, in this performance. And the flash of pink isn't the only thing that stays between each shift: so does the incandescent rage in Nimona's eyes.]

[At the same time, GREY joined by other figures with torches of their own. The REBEL group grows, and red-golden light swells across the stage until the train car is wholly lit.]

[While the earlier sung lines were given in translation, the REBELS sing untranslated – driving, thundering, defiance gradually rising into triumph.]

CHORUS OF REBELS
Senza attrito, non c'è fiamma,
Senza conflitto, non c'è progresso – non temere!
Per capire che non stiamo perdendo
Quante volte dobbiamo vincere?

[abhorrently]

[she's glad for it, seeing the resistance, the battle - oh, if she could snap these chains, turn against "her" own forces, run them down, but she feels the invisible wires tight around her throat and the anguish rises-]

[Battle is joined for the third and final time, with the advantage reversed. ENFORCERS fall one after another, and the REBELS press forward. MASON, in alarm, tries again to harangue the REBELS.]

MASON
You cannot, you filth, how dare you!
The order is sacred, the order is life,
You cannot be permitted to profane it!

FRANCO THE ELDER
Minister, they will overwhelm us!

MASON
They cannot, they must not, it shall not be permitted!
My god, look, do you see what they’re doing?
How is it possible? They will overwhelm us!

FRANCO THE ELDER
Yes, I think they may.

MASON
Out of here, get me out!

[She turns to flee stage right, with FRANCO THE ELDER supporting her. Again in slow motion, GREY (Nimona) throws a knife; MASON cries out discordantly, clutching at her leg. FRANCO THE ELDER catches her and they flounder toward stage right. CURTIS sees them going, and moves to pursue them. The verse below cuts off mid-word just as he passes center stage.]

[it hurts like it would if it was a real knife. maybe it is real, maybe the pain and blood are real things, or maybe they aren't - she can't tell here. and illusion is as good as the real thing - she leans on Erik, letting him bear her weight. get them out, bring this pantomime to a close, she doesn't want to sing anymore, doesn't want this unless her fellow captives can turn this in their favor.]

[hate_gettin_older]

[Victory for the REBELS seems certain by now, as the ENFORCERS fall back. The triumphant theme returns in full voice; dancers move across the stage, obscuring what's happening behind them.]

CHORUS OF REBELS
Non c'è storia raccontata nel vuoto,
Non c'è profezia che illumini la via;
C'è solo molta oscurità da temere,
Per fortuna non abbiamo paura!
Nessun prescelto, nessun destino, nessun fato,
Non esistono incantesimi;
Nessuna luce alla fine di passaggio
Per fortuna abbiamo fia –

EDGAR
[shouted] Curtis!

[The dancers freeze, and part slowly.]

[maximumcake]

[CURTIS turns toward stage left, where FRANCO THE YOUNGER holds EDGAR in a headlock, threatening him with a large knife at his throat. EDGAR is frozen.]

FRANCO THE YOUNGER
[sung, on a single long note] Surrender!

[The music stops completely, but for a single bass drum in the rhythm of a heartbeat and a brush on a cymbal. FRANCO THE YOUNGER repeats Surrender!, slower, but only his lips move; no sound comes out.]

[CURTIS turns back and forth – stage left is EDGAR held hostage, stage right is MASON being half-carried off, about to make her escape.]

[There is a long moment of silent, anguished indecision – but there can be no other choice. CURTIS turns away from EDGAR and lunges, in slow motion, to pursue MASON before she can escape.]

[He almost thinks it's his own voice failing when he mouths that last line soundlessly, but no... no that's just for dramatic effect, isn't it?! His fist clenches in pure fury around the blade he holds against his will to his own lover's neck. He knows how this story ends, and he's fighting with all of his might not to bring it to its conclusion. But he can't. He's not strong enough. He can't save Edgar from this, but there is one thing he can still do.

He projects his voice into Edgar's mind: Edgar, I love you. It's going to be okay. When this is over, I'll hold you and I'll never let you go.]

[redlightgreenlight]

[There's a snarl and pain as the play drags her toward the finish and away from Edgar and Max. Her will isn't quite stronger than that of Efrain, but it's enough for the giant black wolf to explode onto the stage, snarling and writhing against the spell holding them all.]

I will not play your games.

[Unfortunately, like in so many things, she doesn't have a choice and it is the Hound that lunges after the retreating MASON.]

[yournewsidekick]

[Nimona has no such chance. Her chains are locked tight, keeping her in the shape of GREY. Even if she could move of her own free will, she can't speak; GREY is -- was -- mute.

I'm sorry, she cannot cry as she flings the knife at Fever: a friend whose bloodthirsty streak matches her own, and who knows exactly what it's like to be cut off from a power that isn't what you do, but what you are.

Stop, she can't scream when Max grabs Ed by the throat: the guy who's so sweet even Nimona can't help but like him, forced into doing something completely against his nature.

And Ed -- Ed, helpless, as they all pantomime the last seconds of his life around him --

A few errant sparks crackle over GREY's skin. But that's it. That's all she can do as she stares at him and Max, horrorstruck by what's about to happen.]

[hate_gettin_older]

[The heavy fist gripping him by the hair, the sharp blade brushing his throat, the leaden feeling of sinking down; he's relived all these before in memory, and no doubt will again. He knows what comes next.]

[EDGAR sags in place for a moment, then tenses all over, jaw tightening. With a sudden movement, he wrenches free of the hands holding him -- and instead of turning on FRANCO THE YOUNGER, lunges forward, after CURTIS, stretching out one hand.]

EDGAR
Wait --!

[Smoothly, as though expecting it, FRANCO THE YOUNGER steps in behind him and runs him through from behind. The performers freeze, EDGAR transfixed on the blade with his hands falling loose at his sides and FRANCO THE YOUNGER holding the pose of the killing stroke, as perfectly balanced as a fencer.]

[The CHORUS comes in, a quiet wordless keening, in the same melody as EDGAR's earlier lines. EDGAR slowly sinks to his knees, eyes wide and staring at nothing, as the CHORUS begins to repeat three notes over and over: eyes open, eyes open, eyes open.]

[The stage lights dim, as action resumes in slow motion far stage right; FRANCO THE ELDER abandons the helpless MASON, and CURTIS catches up to her. The two are only barely visible as his hand closes on her wrist. A single faint spotlight narrows on EDGAR and then goes out.]

[CURTAIN.]