Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Writing Challenge 2016 #16 - Wheelchairs

NWC #16- "Wheel Chairs" DUE Nov 17th at 8am

*Challenge*- All characters are in wheel chairs and have different levels of restricted mobility- and all for different reasons. One of them has not been entirely truthful.

*You won't believe what these characters do next. At first, I was way into this. On page three, my mind was completely blown. You'll close your eyes when you see what happens by the end. (just don't close them too soon or you'll miss it)*
Is there a raked stage? Is climbing involved? Why is the set filled with chairs? This and other possibilities await

Things to Avoid- a dream sequence where the characters walk.
Things to Avoid- a sense of victimhood
Things to Avoid- turning this into a monologue show because you don't want
to deal with interactions

(I really like this challenge, too, but not today.  I need to crank out another chunk of that monologue...)

(DRAFT 1, part 2)

I sent him a note.
Your husband.
When I heard.
Not sure a month after the fact if it was welcome or not.
Never heard anything in return.
Didn't expect to.
But I wanted him to know - something.
Something about you maybe only I could tell him.
So I mentioned the time you orchestrated that orphan's Thanksgiving.
Those of us who couldn't go home to be with family, or didn't have a family to go home to anymore, whatever the reason.
Mystery Science Theater 3000 was still on the air at the time.  Still doing their Turkey Day Marathons of horrible movies with snarky running commentary.
Everybody brought something for the communal meal.  We all loaded up our plates and camped out in front of an enormous TV screen, ate, and laughed.
You made the holiday a lot less lonely for a lot of people.
And that was who you were, to us.
To me.
Someone who made the lonely times a lot less lonely.  With laughter, and companionship.
Why couldn't you let us do that for you?
I never really knew if he knew.
Your husband.
You met us both at the same time.
You told me about him.
Did you tell him about me?
You met us both at the same time.
You chose him.
He was the better choice.
The better man.
A different man.
A man who wasn't me.
You chose him.
Now you're dead.
Not saying there's causality.
If you'd chosen me - would you still be here?
God knows I can't even keep a plant alive, much less a human being who's in pain and determined not to be alive anymore.
Would I be asking myself the same questions now that your husband is probably asking himself?
Or would I have been a different enough man somehow to keep you here - with us?
Solve this, fix you, replace the pain with something better.
Something worth sticking around for, fighting for.
You told me about your past.
You told me about the things that haunted you.
Not sure what I or anyone else could do about that.
But you always reached out.
You stopped reaching out.
Why couldn't you stay and let us make the extra effort to reach you?
Was leaving us the only way to make the pain stop?

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