A Short Play
by Ben Macnair
SETTING: A train platform early morning. Two benches sit parallel to the tracks. The sound of distant trains and occasional station announcements fills the air.
CHARACTERS:
BARRY – 55, wearing a slightly wrinkled business suit, briefcase at his feet
IRIS – 80, elegantly dressed in dated clothing, holding a small bouquet of flowers
by Huina Zheng
During the turbulent years of the Cultural Revolution, Grandma would close the worn wooden door when night fell.
Lying in bed, Grandma and Mom were gently wrapped in darkness. In a soft voice, Grandma told my young mother ancient folktales and historical stories, all of which her own mother had told her: the story of Nuwa, who made humans out of yellow earth and water; the tale of Meng Jiangnu, who wept for her husband, who had died while building the Great Wall. Her tears moved Heaven and Earth, causing a section of the Wall to collapse, revealing her husband’s remains; and the story of Jingwei, who drowned in the Eastern Sea and transformed into a bird, tirelessly bringing stones and twigs to fill the sea, vowing to avenge her drowning.
Read More »by Dane Erbach
“Harder!” Joe shouts from his podium, yells over violin bows stuck in the air like an unruly haircut. “Hit that bass drum as hard as you can!”
The orchestra spins toward me—rows of smarmy teenage smiles, annoyed; of middle schoolers wild with amusement, squirming their chairs.
“Have you ever heard Jurassic Park’s soundtrack?” Joe asks, his bald head shining in the fluorescent light. “The big BOOM at the beginning?”
Read More »by Matias Travieso-Diaz
I want to live for immortality, and I will accept no compromise.
– Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
Iry-Hor was feeling the weight of his years.
He had been for decades the head of a growing empire that controlled much of Egypt and had extended northward towards the delta of the sacred river Nile. In the process of his conquests, he and his armies had slain thousands of men loyal to the local chieftains who opposed him. He was known and feared throughout the land, which was adorned with temples erected in his honor and countless statutes that proclaimed him as the hegemonic ruler of the greatest empire the world had known. Yet, he found himself increasingly dissatisfied. Would posterity grant him the recognition and acclaim his deeds warranted? Would his name inspire veneration, or at least awe, in generation after generation to come?
Read More »by Matias Travieso-Diaz
Compared to a star, we are like mayflies, fleeting ephemeral creatures who live out their lives in the course of a single day.
– Carl Sagan
The round, whitish egg that was to become Dolania[1], the heroine of our story, was among a thousand-plus identical ones deposited by their mother as she dipped her abdomen into the river’s water during flight, releasing a small batch of eggs each time. As their mother died and floated away, the eggs sank to the murky river bottom.
Read More »by Celso Antonio de Almeida
Marcel’s cloth moved in small, precise circles, coaxing a shine from the leather beneath his hands. The morning bustle of the Boulevard du Temple swirled around him, a chaotic dance of horses, carriages, and hurried Parisians that contrasted sharply with his own stillness.
“You’re quiet today, Marcel,” Henri observed, peering down at the bootblack. “Troubles at home?”
Marcel’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Monsieur Beaumont. Just thinking about changes.”
Read More »by Caitlin Stratton
The doe’s ears stood out, illuminated by an orange glow. Further ahead, in the middle of a clearing, sat an uneven log cabin. Smoke rose from its chimney, and the origin of the orange seeped from a frosted window, showing off a burning fire inside. A small hand pulled the window curtains to one side, letting the light dance into the clearing, and a child’s eyes investigated the deer with a twinkle. The doe stilled, matching the child’s gaze.
Read More »by Megan Nicholson
I asked for this reality of living on my own, alone. Being alone means you are solely responsible for your quality of life, with no one else to rely on. And goddamn, I really need to clean these dishes. They’ve been sitting there for a week, and god knows there’s plenty more around this damn apartment that needs to be washed. I did the first half of the dishes yesterday; now I need this second half done so I can clean out Pepper’s litter tray. The poor thing’s open bathroom is filled with interwoven fur and hay and pellets. There’s so much to get done, and there’s still four hours before I need to get to bed and wake up for work tomorrow.
Read More »by Ibrahim Azam
O’Neill watched the sun peek over the horizon. The first of its rays had bled through the sky. Brady looked back at the village, shrinking out of sight as they pushed the johnboat further into the water.
It was a cold morning. The wind was callous, hitting both men in the face, spattering pockets of seawater with each strike. Unruffled, O’Neill began preparing the fishing rods. Three decades parading this ocean, he thought. And I ain’t letting some rookie slow me down.
Read More »by Celso Antonio de Almeida
“And that, class, is why time passes more slowly if you travel at speed, though you need to start approaching the speed of light for the effect to be significant,” Ezra Nolan stated flatly, his eyes drifting to the clock above the whiteboard, wishing with all his strength that time, through some unlikely relativistic effect, would pass faster. Fifteen minutes left. Fifteen minutes until the end of the day, the end of the week, and one day closer to the end of his career. Thirty years of teaching high school physics, and for what? He surveyed the classroom of blank faces illuminated by cell phone screens under their desks. They probably wouldn’t remember this lesson tomorrow, let alone ten, twenty or thirty years from now.
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