Kidding.
I have discovered an old writing assignment that I wrote a year ago. It made me think about what I forced to learn about against my will. I feel it is appropriate to share because it was a short play. It is about a shooting and I made a literal play that makes me proud to know to write this down. It is called Ernest and here it is. Try a read.
Ernest by Natalie
The stage is an epitome of darkness.
It is silent, the curtains are drawn closed. Only a blank screen of a projector
is present, contrasting as a bright presence with its apparent ivory hue. A projector
is stationed across the stage when it clicks on, flickering to life. The screen
opens to a small montage of a News coverage which begins with a reporter
narrating the top story.
Reporter: We are
K-5 News, bringing live to you footage of Arabesque High School. It just came
in that a shooting is occurring! We are overlooking the School’s Auditorium right
now where hundreds of students are evacuating the premises! The shooter is
identified as eighteen year-old Senior Ernest Taylor and he began his rampage
several hours ago! At exactly ten a.m. this morning, he began to shoot
aimlessly! He has shot countless students and faculty across campus! Right now,
authorities are trying to capture Taylor alive before he finishes what he
started. Right now he is stationed on the rooftop of the Science Building, a
five story building, where he is threatening to jump.
The footage cuts to a shot of Ernest Taylor who looks back behind him,
pulls the trigger off of his shotgun, and shoots back behind him until it is
empty. Cartridges fall as bullets are fired. When he notices that he is out of
ammunition, Taylor laughs hysterically and leaps off the building.
The
montage ends with watching the students of Arabesque High School cry and sigh
in relief when their massacre ends. It finishes with a shot of a collection of
bodies are pushed into an ambulance. It leaves to the hospital quickly.
Reporter: It has
been confirmed that there were twelve victims of this tragedy. Eight students,
three teachers, and a parent perished. Dozens have been injured, seven are in
critical condition. More later. This is Susan Shepherds of K-5 News, back to
you Vanessa.
The screen cuts to black. The screen disappears and is replaced with
the stage, now open to the audience. Only a single spotlight appears and shows
a tall, thin girl who stands promptly in the center of it. Part White, Part Asian,
and haunted, she wears a bloody yellow sweater and a knitted hat that tucked
away her short black hair. She is barefoot. She is sullen, very morose from
crying. Her arms are folded together. It is not clear at first to see her one
gun shot wound in her back.
Unknown girl: Sometimes,
bad decisions make good stories. [pause] Other times, they are even worst
causes. This … [pause] is a testimony of a boy who was lost. He was good, kind,
and confident until the day of a shooting. Everything unraveled from there.
Nothing good came after. But there is always a catalyst. If we could find it
soon enough, then maybe these bad things wouldn’t happen. [She looks away to
the back. A gun shot is heard, a cry is cut off] Perhaps.
The girl begins to exit, exposing her gunshot wound to the audience, going
straight to the back of the stage, to turn to the left, revealing her ambiguous
identity. Then the stage is dark. The curtains close again.
The
stage opens again. This time it reveals an investigation room with muddy brown
walls and a single headlight in stage left. A table and two chairs are on the
center of the stage. A woman sits in the chair on the stage right, bored.
Head
Investigator Vesna Naomi Gates held an unusually ruddy-brown complexion. She
was a woman in her mid-thirties, petite but sturdy. She was sitting in a chair,
tilted with her feet propped on a table in front of her. She wears a starch
powder blue button up which was tucked in her dark black pants, belted
altogether. The only recognition of her being in the Police Force was a single
golden badge around her neck. Her hair was clasped together in a clean-cut
ponytail. Her hands were attached to a summary report of who she was
interviewing that day. She was focused with a clipboard in her hands, checking
the various notes in her disposal. She occupies herself by peering at the notes
from afar until there’s a knock at the door.
She
straightens herself up, both feet firmly on the ground as she pushed her stray
hairs behind her ear. She also straightened her papers together into a neat pile,
prepared for her first victim.
Vesna: Come in.
The door opens ajar, then Liam enters the stage left. Liam is white,
male, and strong. He wears a striped polo shirt and wrinkled jeans. His brown
hair is disheveled, floppy and misguided.
Vesna: You are
Liam Krause. Correct?
Liam
sits in the chair hesitantly. He is pale with blood shot eyes and pasty lips.
He stares at his hands when he sits in front of Vesna.
Liam: Yeh, sorry
I’m late. Things have gotten crazy since …
Vesna: Of course. [nodding
in agreement] And this interview will go as quickly as possible. I’m Vesna
Gates and I’m here to learn as much as I can about what happened to your best
friend, Ernest Taylor. I am here to just ask a few questions here and there and
we’ll be done. Okay? Nothing too difficult.
Liam: [mumbles in
response with inarticulate words]
Vesna unveils a tape recorder from her pocket, clicks a cassette tape
in its mouth, and popped the play button. A wireless microphone was brought
close to Liam’s direction as Vesna clicked a pen open and a fresh new page of a
memo pad. Then when she was finished, she stared at Liam confidently, having
done interviews thousands of times before.
Vesna: State your
name and your relation with Ernest Taylor. It’s okay, you don’t have to be
scared. This is just meant for the official report. It is standard stuff.
Liam stares indignantly at the tape recorder and silently tried to
decide whether to trust it.
Vesna: I promise
it doesn’t bite. It tells the truth. It can’t manipulate it. Try not to look at
it.
Liam: [coughs
rudely]
Vesna turns the tape recorder away from him. Liam sighs in relief. His
posture becomes better and he has eye contact with Vesna.
Liam: [in a rush] I’m
Liam Krause and Ernest Taylor was my friend.
Vesna: Where were
you when Taylor murdered twelve people?
Liam: I was in the
Library, studying music in a recording room. It is soundproof, so I couldn’t
hear anything when Ernest attacked.
Vesna: Interesting.
I heard you guys were good friends. Did he seem suspicious the days before the
attack happened? Was he well?
Liam: Well, he was
okay.
Vesna: Really?
Because I would think he had signs of a problem days in advance especially when
he killed twelve people three days ago.
Liam: We were good
friends but we had a huge fight before all this. We managed to get over it,
though.
Vesna: What
happened?
Liam: Well, a week
ago, I noticed Ernest was feeling kind of low. But I didn’t know why. He just didn’t
care anymore.
Vesna: That’s it?
Liam: Yes.
Vesna: [folds arms
quickly, cocking her head slightly] You’re lying. You’re lying to me, Liam. Listen,
I have to interview dozens of people today and tell them my condolences
individually to each and every one of them. If I do not gather the most
accurate facts and timelines, I will not be doing my job and not help you.
Don’t you want Taylor’s family to know what was wrong with him? Don’t you think
they deserve the truth? I’ve done this thousands of times and it does not get
any easier with the people closest to the assailant. What usually happens is
they brake under the heavy weight of guilt because they usually know what was
happening to their friends or family. As an expert, I know you were there when
something snapped inside him. One way or another, you will have to tell
someone. Please, please tell me what happened to your friend.
Liam: [nervously
began chewing on a piece of gum, now in his mouth] I don’t know what you’re
talking about.
Vesna: Please tell
me anything strange that happened to him.
Liam: First, he’s
not my friend anymore. He’s not.
Vesna: What do you
mean?
The spotlight dims
between Vesna and Liam. Another light on stage right comes on, Ernest Taylor is
standing against a brick wall, smoking pot. He was looking at the sky, his
expression was blank. Liam leaves his chair to meet with Ernest. The lighting
is faded to a red musk color.
Liam: A week ago,
I noticed Ernest ditched class for the fifth time that week. I knew where he
hung out when we ditched together. It was behind the cafeteria where we needed
some privacy from the school’s crap. We usually planned these things together. But
this time was different. Ernest was lost, utterly and completely in his own
world when he spoke to me.
Ernest: [flinches]
What are you doing here?
Liam: I go here.
To school. I thought you did too. Why have you been ditching so often? Mr.
Dresher is noticing, keeps asking me why you’re gone, and I have to lie. Dude,
it sucks.
Ernest: School
doesn’t matter anymore.
Liam: I know. You
think I want to be here? But it’s our senior year, you have to hang on for one
more year and we’re free. So, come on, let’s go to class.
Ernest: [inhales a
huge whiff of smoke and blows an enormous “o” shape in the air] No.
Liam: Come on,
coming back isn’t that difficult.
Ernest: Yes it is.
Especially when you have to get rid of the world of its dirtiest spoils.
Someone has to start the labors and finish it. The only thing that matters is
the ending. A simple, clean-cut ending.
Liam: Come on, the
bell’s going to ring. Let’s go.
Ernest: No! Are
you with me or against me? You should stay with me! Join me, I know you’ll be a
wise accomplice for the war! WE have to keep going!
Liam: Look, I have
to go.
Ernest: If you
leave, you’re not my friend anymore. I never want to see your face ever again!
Liam: Fine, I
don’t give a damn about you anymore.
The light fades on
Taylor. Liam exits back to the interviewer room. The spotlight turns on at the
investigation table afterwards. Liam returns to his chair when music box
melodies twinkle until he reaches for his chair. The music stops when Vesna
scribbled avidly to Liam’s words. She wrote fervently as Liam put a hand on his
head, disappointed.
Vesna: Did you
speak to him after that?
Liam: No. He
didn’t even try to contact me again. I tried several times but he ignored me.
So I stopped.
Vesna: Did you
notice Taylor do anything else?
Liam: Ernest was
very social. But when his younger sister was murdered, he got quiet. But after
a few months, he sort of went off to his own world. He completely shut me off
as well as the rest of the people at school. The last few times I did see him,
I witnessed him off on his own, whispering to himself and gathering notes in a
notebook. But other than that, he was okay.
Vesna: Thank you,
Liam. I think we are finished. You can go now, but please tell the next witness
to come in if she’s here.
Vesna stops the tape recorder and scribbles a few more notes. Liam gets
up, turning his back to her.
Liam: [waves] Bye.
Vesna: Bye.
Liam exits, closing the door behind him. Vesna yawns from exhaustion
and pulls out a photo of her son. She gives a genuine smile to the photo,
knowing she would get to be reunited to her son after her interviews.
The
door opens and a medium-sized woman comes in stage left. Her ginger-hair was
twisted in braids down to her shoulders. She is wearing a grey hoodie, matching
sweatpants, and Uggs on her feet. She glided to the chair and sat down, chewing
gum. She slouched in her chair, leaning her arms on the table, bored. Vesna
flips a new page on her memo pad.
Vesna: Good
afternoon, Ms. Martin. You’re … Taylor’s legal guardian, correct? You’re his
Aunt? I’m Vesna Gates and I’m here to interview you. I want to know what
happened to Taylor.
Ms. Taylor: Yes I
am.
Vesna: Yes, now
what happened to Taylor’s parents, if I may ask?
Ms. Taylor: Everyone
wants to know. It’s natural to be curious. Anyways, Ernest’s parents are
divorced. His father went off to Canada while his mother came here. But she
died about five years ago so he and his sister came to live with me.
Vesna: I also
heard that his sister died recently. What happened to her?
Ms. Taylor: My
little Petra? She drowned by the river six months ago. It was a hard loss for
us. We never understood what happened. She was strong, so we were surprised by
how sudden she was taken from us.
Vesna: I didn’t
know that her death was pretty recent. Did this affect Taylor in any way where
he changed enough to commit murder?
Ms. Taylor: Well,
he was much more secretive after that. I’m not sure right now. Everything
lately has gotten so much attention. I don’t know where to begin.
Vesna: Anything
out of routine in your household?
Ms. Taylor: His
schoolwork was fine. He always muttered a lot to himself, to the other side of
himself. I was surprised that he was so calm. He was so mature.
Vesna: Please,
enlighten me on Taylor’s life. Was there more to why he rampaged on those
twelve innocent people?
Ms. Taylor: There
was one thing I noticed.
Vesna: What?
The spotlight dims slowly as stage right exposed Ernest trying to sleep
in his bed. The walls are adorned in flower wallpaper and a floating shelf full
of books. Ernest was tossing and turning in his bed. Shoes were discarded on
the floor and a window assembled the image of night. The moon was out and a
street full of houses was posted inside it.
The
lights are colored a periwinkle blue scheme as Ms. Taylor tiptoes to Ernest’s
bedroom with a beer bottle in her hand. She takes a giant gulp of the beer as
she peeks at Ernest, who in return sits up, eyes widened.
Ms. Taylor: [turns
to the audience] Sometimes, I checked on Ernest if he was sleeping. I noticed
he had a hard time of sleeping at a regular rate after the death of Petra. When
I came in, the time was about three or four. He would be asleep by then. But
one night, he wasn’t. He got up immediantly and spoke to me. His hands were
shaking uncontrollably.
Ernest: Hi,
Auntie.
Ms. Taylor: [in a
surprised whisper] Good Morning, Ernest. Why are you up so late?
Ernest: Couldn’t
sleep.
Ms. Taylor: You
should try to. School is tomorrow.
Ernest: Tomorrow
is Saturday.
Ms. Taylor:
[coughs] Do you need a glass of water?
Ernest: [Swiftly
speaking at first] No, I need silence. I need to think, I need to plan, I need
to keep moving, I need to go.
Taylor gets out of bed and fishes out a clean shirt off his bed. He
begins to dress in a fervent manner, taking his wallet and exiting on the stage
right. He doesn’t utter a word.
Ms. Taylor: Be
careful, Ernest.
Then the stage lights turn off and Ms. Taylor leaves the bedroom. The beer bottle disappears as Vesna writes
more notes.
Vesna: He just
left?
Ms. Taylor: Yes,
without a word. It was as if he had some bigger purpose for something I
couldn’t understand.
Vesna: Did he come
back?
Ms. Taylor: Yes.
Vesna: Was there
anything else that happened?
Ms. Taylor: I wish
I did know. I get so busy sometimes that I forget.
Vesna: Thank you,
Ms. Taylor. I think that’s enough.
Ms. Taylor gets up from her chair, shivers as she turns her back. She
vomits on the floor, weak and frail. Vesna gets up from her chair and helps her
get up.
Vesna: Someone
call 9-11!
The curtain closes as the sounds of an ambulance come closer to them.
Only the figure of the unknown girl appears to lock the curtains together. She
gives a weak smile, then the lights turn off and she exits stage right.
{Intermission}
Curtains are raised. The stage opens. Only darkness occupies the space
as the unknown girl walks in the audience space, stroking the heads of children
and teenager boys. She walks on stage in a fatigued step, looking at the
audience, braking the fourth wall by placing eye contact on various audience
members, in a good way or not. Her outside physical proudness was pale, her skin
was painted a faded earl grey as if she was decaying in front of the audience. Her
bones are jagged as she dances on stage resulting to a crooked gait to her feet,
gliding with an invisible partner in step with a moderato waltz.
She
invites one audience member on stage. He is taken under her spell. They go
around in circles as the music’s waltz continued to go faster and faster. When
the music is about to stop, the unknown girl unfastens a dagger from her back
and stabs the new victim. A red rag is unleashed in her other hand as she and
her victim skip away to the stage left. The lights are out.
The
stage returns as Gate’s Interview room. It is empty. There is only silence
until Vesna enters the door with her last interviewer of the day. She is swallowing
the last remnants of a bagel with cream cheese. Another short, thin, white, blonde
haired girl follows her step. She is dressed in black attire, complete with a
Rolling Stones T-shirt on her chest, black jeans, converse, and black smoky
eyes. She is an enigma, playing with her black nails as she was motioned to sit
on a chair. Vesna tied her hair into a bun, sitting in front of her, preparing
the tape recorder.
Vesna: I’m sorry.
One of my witnesses had an emergency. She was taken to the hospital and I came
along with her for several hours. It was so crazy and that’s why I’m late.
You’re … Vienna Drakouliuos, right? I’m Vesna Gates. I’m investigating what
happened to Ernest Taylor.
Vesna pushes the play button on the tape recorder.
Vienna: Yes.
Vesna: [Checking
the summary report] You were at the shooting. You witnessed everything in front
of you.
Vienna: More or
less.
Vesna: State your
name and your relation to Ernest Taylor.
Vienna: My name is
Vienna Drakoulious and … I was a classmate of Ernest Taylor’s.
Vesna: You came
here voluntarily?
Vienna: Yes, I
did.
Vesna: Why?
Vienna: I just had
a feeling I needed to go.
Vesna: Can you
elaborate on that?
Vienna: Guilt told
me to go. If I didn’t tell anyone what happened, what I’ve seen … [hesitates] I
couldn’t …
Vesna: What did
you see?
Vienna: [sighs
heavily, cracks her neck, and sighs again] He was showing signs of increased
aggression at school.
The spotlight dims, another light shines at stage left. It is bright,
illuminating white heat like the sun. Vienna rises from her chair and runs to a
scene of a basketball court. Taylor is fighting with another boy, whose back is
turned to the audience. They wrestle with each other.
Vienna steps closer to the audience.
Vienna: [Stares at
the audience] One day in gym, I saw Ernest get in a fierce fight with another
student, someone younger than him, he was a junior named Michael. He was
fighting hard, not the kidding round type but the harsh punching, bloody
knuckles type of fighting as they continued in the court. Ernest didn’t stop.
He kept pushing harder and harder until Michael was a mess. There was blood
everywhere on his face and hands. In fact, he fainted when Ernest was shouting
at him even after he fell down on the floor as result.
Ernest: [hollers
hoarsely] SHUT UP! SHUT UP! YOU’RE PATHETIC! SHUT UP! MICHAEL, YOU ARE NOTHING,
NOTHING COMPARED TO THE REAL WORLD! YOU WOULDN’T LAST ONE DAY IN A WAR THAT’S
RAGING RIGHT NOW! YOU PATHETIC LOWLIFE!
Vienna: After he
said those things, he just walked off.
Ernest walks off stage. Vienna is left alone beside the court.
Vesna: So he was
angry?
Vienna: No, he was
angrier than the usual. He snapped that day over the stupidest thing. Then he
just storms off afterwards. It wasn’t normal.
Vesna: Why would
you say that?
Vienna: Because
I’ve known him since the second grade. We’ve been put in classes together since
elementary school. He wasn’t always that angry. He had a temper but it wasn’t
that harsh, it didn’t go over until that day. I swear to God.
Vesna: It sounds
like normal adolescence to me.
Vienna: It wasn’t.
He also wasn’t doing well at school.
Vesna: How did you
know that?
Vienna: I saw his
papers. He was failing Calculus terribly. I sat behind him and saw his papers.
I always had to correct his tests. It was not pretty.
Vesna: [Drops her
clipboard] Why is this relevant?
Vienna: Ernest was
becoming something else. I saw it all before my eyes. I didn’t think anything
of it at the time. It was just …
Vesna: Do you know
why he killed himself?
Vienna: No, but I
have a theory. Promise not to tell his family, say it was an anonymous source.
I was not part of it.
Vesna: You’re a
gifted observer. You noticed things everybody else chose to ignore. You know
what kind of power you have?
Vienna: Promise?
Vesna: Of course.
Interviewer confidentiality.
Vienna: Well …
The spotlight cuts off as another spotlight follows Vienna to the
forefront of the stage. The interview scene disappears and only the figure of
Vienna is alive on stage. She wanders around on stage, the only visible thing
against the blackness.
Vienna: I followed
him after the fight. I was so curious to why he just stormed off and ditched
school. So I followed him.
Ernest enters the stage. Walking in a slow pace as Vienna is behind
him, following him while looking at the audience.
Vienna: He walked
long and far to this Best Buy. It was six miles away from school. He entered
the store and disappeared behind all these electronics. He was engulfed by
them, addicted to them.
Vesna: And then?
Vienna: He was
there for hours, eyes locked onto a screen.
Vesna: What was
it?
Vienna: Some video
game called “Artifice or Honor”. A shooter game, a war game.
Vesna: Video
games?
Vienna: He was
obsessed with them.
Ernest pretends to shoot like he had a sniper in his arms. He
pantomimes shooting actions at the direction of the balconies.
Vienna: I think
that’s why he killed them. It’s never going to stop. It’s never going to end.
If they keep finding them, obsess over them, it may be over because they are
possessed by a virus, hosting them to do bad things. They get lost.
Ernest walks over to Vienna and stares at her. Vienna swallows spit
nervously and stares back at him.
Vienna: Ernest is
not the first but not the last either. He killed people because he was so
caught up in a sphere where his family was not part of the equation and nobody
could pull him down to reality too. So he lived out the fantasy despite the
consequences.
Vesna comes to the spotlight, sharing it beside Vienna and Ernest,
contemplating the facts by putting a hand to her chin.
Vesna: Where were
you when Taylor murdered twelve people?
Vienna: I was at
my locker, minding my own business.
She pantomimes opening a locker and putting books in her bag. She was
minding her own business until Ernest walked past her. Vienna saw he had a
duffel bag with an assortment of rifles, revolvers, and shotguns. Vienna gasps
in surprise as Ernest looks at her, indifferent and lonely, pausing to stop at
her direction.
Vienna: I saw the
countless ammunition. I knew what he was about to do. But instead …
Ernest: Don’t stay
here. Go home … [pause] now.
Vienna: He was
shaking uncontrollably when he said those words. It was like he had ADD or
something because he had a hard time keeping close concentration on me when he
finally walked away. So he left.
Ernest exits. Gunshots are heard in the background. Vienna begins to
run away as she hears the beginning of the massacre.
Vienna: So I ran
away. I was out before the police arrived. Like a coward, I didn’t say a word.
Vesna: He was gone
by then.
Vienna: Was he
though? He was kind enough to warn me to leave the premises. He was so obsessed
in his world to let me go.
Vesna: But he
killed twelve people.
Vienna: For all we
know, those twelve people became twelve enemies in his mind.
Vesna: Perhaps.
The stage is dark again. Only the unknown girl appears on stage with
Ernest, holding hands with him.
Unknown Girl: [In
a sing-song voice] Violence an obsession, seduced by aggression, only to
forget, pain and his oppression.
Ernest carries a sad smile to the audience. He pulls a red sheet out
and ties it between the unknown girl’s and his arm.
Death: Ernest
could only pretend, for his only fantasy could he defend, but in the end …
[pause] Death earns a new friend.
The lights are shut off. The curtains close permanently as they exit
together.
