SURVEY
is an original full length, dramatic play by Tommy Van Stitzel (ã
copyright 1997 by Tommy Van
Stitzel). Two brothers, Bob and
Tim, enter a cave to survey it. They
are accompanied by a third, uninvited member.
The ghost of their deceased brother resurrects as “The Voice” who speaks
to Tim. The survey entails more than
just measuring the cave. It is the
exploration for the truth, a truth that is buried in a madness that resides in
Tim.
The
following are excerpts from SURVEY.
Act One, Scene Two
(Bob and Tim are duck walking, crouching their heads, through a wide but only three foot high passage.)
Watch out fer the bats.
Of course, I’ll watch out for bats.
No. I mean
those bats above yer head. Be careful.
(Tim throws himself flat on the ground.)
TIM
Where!? (squinting upwards he sees hundreds
of little, furry, fluttering, brown bodies suspended upside-down from the
ceiling.) Oh,
shit
Shhhh! Don’t
disturb ‘em.
Dear god!
There are hundreds of them!
Shhhh.
They’re Big Brown bats and this here cave’s the last of their habitats
in this area.
Do bats shit?
It’s called guano.
It’s great fertilizer.
I’m up to my neck in bat shit! I’m up to my eyeballs in bat shit and all
you can say is that it’s great fertilizer!?
Be quiet.
Now give me the end of yer measuring tape and unroll it as you go ta
that next bend ahead.
Aren’t you coming?
How’re we going ta git the measurement of this
passage if we’re both in the same spot?
No! I’m not going with ya! I’m staying here and you’re going over there
with yer tools. Now git!
(Tim moves
ahead with his end of the measuring tape in hand.)
Hold that dang tape level!
How do I do that?
I can’t even see you.
Scrunch down and git it level with my light. See?
I got it right here, next ta the end of the tape. And tell me what the distance is.
16 feet…..ah, meters…16 meters
Ya sure?
Yes, I’m sure.
Good. Now,
do the back shot.
The what?
The direction. Use yer compass. Line up the cross hairs with my light.
Oh, yeah.
The direction. Well, let’s see here.
It’s 256 degrees.
Ya sure? Ya
gotta be sure.
I’m quite sure!
(writing the
figures in a small notebook) O.K. 256 degrees, 16 meters. Good.
Now, take the tape and go ta the next bend and watch out fer the bats.
I know! I
know! My knees ache, my elbows ache, and my neck aches from watching out for
these damn pests! I’d like to strangle
you with this goddamn measuring tape!
Well, go on ahead and try then!
I know ya can’t ‘cause you’re too chicken.
TIM
I could.
I think I could….but a higher
knowingness says it would be wrong.
Ha! Yer higher knowingness tells ya I’m yer only way
outta here! Now git on ta the next
bend!
TIM
(To Bob.) Damn you!
(The lights dim to a spotlight on Tim.)
TIM
(to the audience) He leaps
from one stone to the next, deliciously skimming the water’s surface, looking
studiously at the world below him, the creek.
So concentrated is he that for the moment the universe is only this
viewmaster-framed outlook of water, feet and stones. It is for him, I suppose, a relief to be so focused on this work
at hand, at foot. His mind shuts out
all the ugly thoughts and gathers strength. His spirit seems to lift to the
level of wordless peace. He glances up
and beams at me with his perfect, little smile. My purpose weakens. In a
panic, it kicks out in front and then behind me in its search for
balance. Then, with new found strength, it lurches
forward destroying the last of my obstacles.
Face forward he flies, belly-flopping in the creek. He lay there, unable to move. His cheeks are now buried deep in the water
bed. And the current now floods his face.
His outstretched body sinks deeper into the grit and pebbles of the wet
earth surrounding him. His tears salt
the fresh water whose gurgling muffles my giggling appeal, “Has he disappeared yet!?”.
(Lights up to include Bob. The survey continues with Bob and Tim crawling through the passage.)
THE VOICE
Trapped,
Distance?
wrapped within the waiting,
8 meters.
wildly worming,
Back shot!
expectant, exploring
108 degrees.
creature crawling through the shadows,
Distance?
endless tunneling
2.3 meters.
to arrive at this
Back shot.
waiting to be born,
52 degrees.
Secreted away in the stony stillness,
Distance?
slow motion suffocation,
16 meters
coldly catacombed, eternally entombed,
back….
and 146 degrees.
waiting to die
without ever living,
loving,
tasting, touching
feeling,
knowing why
or what, if anything,
there is besides
this madness
in which I reside.
(Tim begins
batting at his clothes and shaking his limbs violently.)
What’s the matter?
Spiders are crawling all over me!
They’re only albino crickets.
These are no crickets! These are spiders but you wouldn’t tell me the truth if they
were.
What? What
is it?
Watch out.
Just follow me.
Is this some sort of joke? Bob? Where did you go?
I’m up here.
What are you doing up
there? How did you get up there? If this one of your jokes, I am not amused.
Watch Out!
(Tim freezes
with one foot hanging out in front mid step not knowing what to do.)
What!?
Well, unless ya wanna take a big fall, take one step
backwards very slowly.
(still
balanced on one foot.) Why? What?
BOB
There’s no ground in front of ya! Look!
A pit? (Tim puts his foot down slowly while
staring into the pit.) The pit.
Just step on over ta this ledge below me here and
climb on up.
What!?
And be careful.
That ledge over there!? I can’t.
Do it!
I can’t move.
Stop looking into the pit, dang it!
Daniel.
What?
The pit.
Whadda ‘bout Daniel? Tim!
What!?
Whadda ‘bout
Daniel?
TIM
Give me a hand!
Can’t.
What!? Give
me a hand, damn it!
You have to do this one yerself. Caving rule. Ya might panic and take me with you, then what would you do? Who would be here ta git ya out? Git us out?
It’s just the two of us. Now,
come on.
(Tim focuses
on the ledge on the other side of the pit and, with abandon, leaps across the
void, landing crudely on the other side.
He starts slipping into the pit when finally he grabs a handhold, which
stops his fall.)
So there! I
did it!
Dang ya to hell! The least ya can do if yer goin’ ta
kill yerself is……is ta remember.
Remember what?
BOB
Caving rule! Never take a step ‘til ya know where it’ll
land! And never, never leap!
(Bob turns away and walks into the darkness.)
Remember what?
(Bob’s voice
comes out of the darkness.) Come on!
Corkscrew’s just ‘round the next bend.
Caving rule!
Go to hell! I got over your god
damn black hole, didn’t I!? Well,
didn’t I? Wait! Remember what?
(Tim slumps
into a sitting position at the ledge of the pit as if in trance)
TIM
(to the audience) It’s a green alumumum
drinkin’ glass is in my hand as I’m runnin’ to get away from my dad and then
fall down with my face on top of it.
The red blood gushes in my right eyeball and blinds me and then goes all
over my cheek and touches the corner of my mouth where I lick it off. This scares me even more than my dad who is
still yellin in the kitchen. My mom sees my face and she screams one of her
deaf-person kind of bull calls “aaaeee” and races into the kitchen and jumps on
my dad’s back when she hits him over the head with the pointy end of her high
heel shoe. My dad real slow-like turns
to me and from all that long way I can see a sad look in his eyes which he then
shakes off with my mom flyin’ across the room.
After that he reaches up and gets hold of a great big handful of blood
which he looks at hard and long. He just keeps askin’ in his hard to understand
deaf person kind of hog grunts, “ahwhae?
ahwhae!”. He then turns around and drunk-like stumbles out the back
door.
I’m
in my bed and the room is that long time after dark kind of cold. I can hear a scary noise comin’ from the
direction of the kitchen. The floor is
cold on my feet but I walk towards the noises.
Cold and real scared-like, I peak into the kitchen where I can see the
room is all in shadows. I look harder
and there I see the noises. At first
all I see is my dad’s back. He is
makin’ his grunt-like noises that are not really even deaf man words but the
sounds his air makes in his throat when he is breathin’ hard. Like this, (these sounds are made with a lot
of air) “haaeesh..hshee…
haaeesh..hshee.” I see one arm raised
and in that hand is that knife like mom uses when she cuts off the chickens’
heads. That’s when I hear my mom’s
sound real low and soundin’ far away.
“haheymmmm…haheymmmm.” Only when
my dad steps back from the wall, there is my mom. She has one of dad’s hankies
stuffed in her mouth and she just is standin’ there not movin’ ‘cause her hands
are all tied and my dad’s other hand is holdin’ her head up ‘gainst the
wall. I run back to my bed and pull the
blankets over my head.
When
I open my eyes again, I see my dad’s face real close to my face lookin’’ at me
in the eye to eye way. I can feel his
hands on both my shoulders when he shakes me real hard. “Teemmy?”
he asks real low. Then the sad
look comes over his face again and he screams,
“Whaare heees Teemmy!? Whaare
heees Teemmy!?”. With my hands and my
mouth I tell to my dad, “I’m Timmy,
daddy. I’m Timmy.”
(Slow fade to
black. End of act one.)
_______
The
following is an excerpt from Act Two, Scene Two of SURVEY.
(Later. Bob and
Tim have returned to the campsite inside the mouth of the cave.)
(To Bob.) O.K.! O.K.! Damn it! I
remember…….! O.K.!? Is that what you want!? I remember the cave, Canyon Cave, the pit,
the rope, the fall, the pain……… and oh, god!
The guilt!
BOB
Guilt?
Light slips away slowly,
(to the
Voice) NO!
Say yer Daniel.
Say it!
I’m…..
Say it!
Light slips away slowly,
(to the
Voice) NO!
Say it!
I’m Daniel
I’m standing still
(To The
Voice.) No!
I should have strangled you with that damned measuring tape!
Would
that make you feel better?
(to the audience) I would be free.
and it sneaks off behind me
(To The Voice.) Shut up!
Shut up your accusations, your criticisms, your judgments! I wish I could strangle you. Sneering at me with your holier-than-thou…
a
backward child too shy
(To The Voice) to share itself with the company of others!
(Tim continues in a
passionate confession.)
Sometimes light disappears immediately,
plunging me into a darkness that has never known anything
but itself.
The jarring that occurs is almost physical.
I have not moved as the universe has.
Quiet, which is eternal, envelopes me.
I am in awe of its potency.
It is matter,
the living, breathing substance of which I am a
part.
Swaddled in its dormant power,
I steady myself in anticipation of being inhaled
into the soundless current of its breath.
The breath catches.
Disoriented, I cling to a looming face of alien
limestone,
suspended over mystic objects,
muted variations of the same unforgiving shadow.
I am going to fall,
bashing and breaking every bone on the phantom
shadows
before I hit bottom.
Frantically, fragile fingertips dig into microscopic
spaces
begging for support.
Heavily booted feet, desperate to plant themselves
in the idea of safety,
of solidness,
the ideal of which, once found, will not deceive and
give way,
whimper,
no longer proud,
ashamed,
worst of all,
afraid.
Falling, flapping wildly,
begging for a savior perch,
redemption from wreckage,
face slams rock, attempting to bore into it.
Manic fingers scramble along unblemished surface
seeking union.
Then, a toe catches a thin wedge of thought.
Chest, arms and legs flatten against sheerness of
incline,
daring not to breathe.
The slightest movement can dissolve this fleeting,
stationary state of mind,
This momentary pause in its inevitable plunge.
Taking the forbidden leap,
the mind crosses an eternally gray space,
bloodless air,
finding the safety it seeks in an even darker haze,
a level plane called earth.
Damned by the memory of my fear,
I am condemned to carry my
shame out with me.
I do so burdened with knowledge
that I have joined with the
ranks of history's cowards.
(To Bob.) If only I
could…..strangle them all……then I would be free.
I could! I know I could!
Sunlight
(To The
Voice.) No! You’re dead!
Sunlight
TIM
(To the
audience.)
Sunlight greets me with disdain,
recognizing my darker half.
Pretending I do not know its meaning,
I think of food,
of water,
of taking a pee.
Quickly packed away in the recesses of my heart,
is the defeat,
where it joins the others.
TIM
(To The Voice.) I remember.
I remember. I remember it all! (To
Bob.) All of it! Do you hear me? (To The Voice.) I killed you!
What?
TIM
I killed him.
BOB
Who?
Timmy.
Whadda ya talkin’ ‘bout? Timmy drowned when he was 4 years old..
Yes, I know.
I remember. And I remember more
than you know.
What? Whadda
ya mean? Whadda ya talkin’ ‘bout?
I put my hands on his
shoulders and I forced his body, his head down under the bath water and I just
held him there. I don’t know why I did
it or why I wouldn’t let him up when he kicked and pulled at my arms.
Daniel?
(in a child’s voice) You’re the fucking, little bastard! Daddy says.
Not me! Not me! Daddy loves me! Not you! Not you, you
fucking, little bastard!
My god, ya really did, didin ya? Ya did……..
(Bob slowly backs upstage away
from Tim, still not wanting to believe.)
Did ya?
My arms and shoulders
hurt from pressing him down so hard but I didn’t stop……I just held him under
the water and watched the bubbles… watched the bubbles ……and I watched the
bubbles…until he stopped kicking, stopped splashing and until the bubbles were
all gone.
Ya couldn’t ‘a.
Ya were only seven years old at the time.
But I did. I remember. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? That I remember?
(The Voice crosses downstage and stops behind Bob. It picks up a large rock, raises it and crashes
it down on Bob’s head, crushing his skull.
Bob’s body falls to the ground.
The Voice then slowly crosses downstage and stops behind Tim. It wraps it’s arms around Tim and hugs him
warmly.)
TIM
(laughing quietly) Well, I do.
I remember.
(A slow fade to
black.)
(The end.)
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