Excerpt
From a one act play- "The Phone call"
THE POET
(Wakes up Screaming)
For fuck’s sake, I am Alive.
(Screams again)
For fuck’s sake, I am sober.
Why does destiny mock me? Just because I couldn’t care anymore. Is it because you hate me- or is it because I hate myself- I was never given the secret to the cosmos- I guess probably because it’s a secret I could never keep.
The hurt, I could forgive, the malice, I could suffer- but please, please please! Don’t tell me there’s no more gin.
(He reaches for a bottle, there is a small amount left)
Finally, reality you fucked up mistress- you’re playing fair- I like it- keep it up.
(He gets up and walks the room to a mirror)
EEAURARGHH! Look at me I look diseased- what are you looking at? - a goddamn mess that’s what- you Damn Bastard.
There is a knock, there is a door at the edge of the stage
About the Creator
Jon Sutcliffe
A Poet, and singer songwriter from south London,
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More stories from Jon Sutcliffe and writers in Poets and other communities.
Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor6 days ago in Fiction
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