Ghosts I've Known
(a monologue for a woman)
By
D. M. Larson
from the published play "Secrets of my Soul"
Copyright c 2002
All Rights Reserved
* * *
(In
the darkness an old wooden rocker is heard moving with a creaking noise. Lights
come up dimly on EMILY, a woman [R] dressed in black, alone in a funeral parlor
with a closed coffin. A sofa with quilt
on it is [DR]. A rocking chair is at the
foot of the coffin [L] rocking on its own when the lights come up but stops
after a moment)
Ghosts have always been with
me. Not by choice. At least not on my part. It just happens. I don't want to believe... but they've forced
themselves on me.
(Thoughtful)
Perhaps the old Indian woman
did it to me. I lived in her house too
long as a child.
(Looks at ceiling)
At night, footsteps paced the
ceiling. Over and over, an impatient march, forever in step to the silent drum. If only this had been my only encounter, I
could dismiss it. The house is
settling, my mother said but this wasn't all the house did.
(Lights slightly flicker)
Lights dimmed and
glowed. Her ghostly will stronger than
the new world magic conjured by GE.
(Goes to sofa. Sits and slowly makes her way
under the quilt and lays her head sleepily against the back of the sofa during
the following)
I slept in my room. Well, not really slept. Sleep was never something I did much of,
especially early on. My worries at seven
far outweighed my need for sleep.
Awake. Forever awake. My father had left me. My mother...
(Sits up. Then gets up and crosses to coffin)
I was always worried mother
would leave me too.
(She
touches the coffin lovingly. Then stops
looking very tired)
I wish the ghosts would
go. But they linger. Always lingering. Never really gone.
(She
goes to rocking chair and pushes it with her hand so it rocks. She crosses to sofa and sits staring at the
rocking chair)
The old Indian woman was my
first. She rocked at my
beside, all in white. My eyes met
hers. Her eyes giving
me a worried look as if I were the one who had expired.
(Slowly
slips quilt over herself. Holds it up so she can't see rocker, but
audience can still see her)
Fear making
my head sink deeply into
covers. My eyes entombed by my
lids. How long she waited, I'll never
know. By dawn I ventured a look. She was gone... or perhaps she was never there.
(Lowers covers)
Thinking the apparition a
dream, I told my family and their eyes betrayed them. Others had known her too.
(Rises from bed)
Mother had a vision. She did not go questing for it though. The old Indian, young to most who saw her, once lived on this land. A servant. A girl died here, she at her side at her side
rocking... and the girl died.
(Stoking coffin)
I wish I could say the same
for you...
(Growing worried)
Spirits dog me. Just when I no longer believe, they
appear. Flashing white
lights. A cold
touch. They return.
(Shivers)
Even now.
(Expression grows dark)
But this time it was too
much. Another place. Another spirit. This time it was someone I knew.
(Sadness as she returns to coffin. Slowly turns to panic during following)
It started with the
call. The news that
she had gone away. Finding myself in tears.
Tears sapping me dry. Would the
tears ever stop? Pain like a thick metal
pole shoved up your ass.
(Tries to calm herself)
I had lost so much. An emptiness replaces love, anxious to find,
nothing there... no body anyway, but something.
Something that opens doors, something leaving tissue
by the bed. The
dog barking at nothing... but something.
Finding things in new places, things missing. The locked door... open.
(Tries to calm herself)
Explanations fly. Knowledge our protection.
(Thinks a moment. Frowns and shivers)
It began with the cold. Spots of cold. A moment of normal then
cold, as if the heat were sucked into another dimension. These don't bother me as much as the
touch. A handless
touch of nothing. Something
grabbed by arm but no one was there.
(Pulls back in fear and runs for sofa)
I ran for bed, buried myself
in covers and waited for dawn.
(Throws covers overhead. Pause)
You're never too old to hide
under the covers. Wrapping yourself up into a cocoon.
Hoping that when you emerge life will be butterflies again.
(She sighs and sits up)
But only children believe in
butterflies.
(She rises again)
Adults know... or learn...that
life is full of moths, caterpillars, and worms.
(Pause)
But when I'm alone... fear sets
in. I wonder... do I really want to be
alone? Maybe their visits comfort
me.
(Goes to coffin)
Was it you that touched me
that day?
(Sadly)
And if you are still here,
why do I feel so alone?
(Lights fade to black. The rocker is heard again creaking as it
rocks)
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