Stage Setup
- A single wooden chair centre stage.
- A dim spotlight isolates it in a sea of shadow.
- A faint ticking clock sound runs through the play, sometimes louder, sometimes nearly gone.
- No props except a notebook on the chair.
Scene 1: The Interrogator
(Lights: Soft golden glow, warm, uncertain. Sound: ticking steady, soft.)
[Actor enters slowly, shoulders hunched. Sits, restless. A beat. Looks out at the audience, as though asking them directly.]
I wonder… and I wonder hard.
What makes you so powerful?
Superior?
Is it the fear of the living…
Or the silence of the dead?
(Leans closer, voice hushed, conspiratorial.)
Those yet to meet you are terrified.
and those who have
Well… they can’t exactly come back to share the tale.
Nobody gets you, right?
It must have been hard.
Sympathies.
But what are you anyway?
Legends say you’re shapeless.
Dark, like the night sky.
(Looks up, scanning the ceiling.)
Where do you live? Amongst us?
Then why haven’t we noticed you?
Humans mock what they don’t understand.
Surely someone would’ve noticed,
laughed at you.
(Sudden outburst.)
So, like God, you watch over us?
Wait! there is NO God?
(Lights flicker sharply, sound: loud tick-tock)
What do you mean there is no God?!
(Pauses, chuckles nervously, rubbing face.)
Oh… don’t do that again.
Please.
Scene 2: Death Responds
(Lights shift: cooler blue wash, shadow creeps in. Sound: ticking grows heavy, like a heartbeat.)
[Actor straightens, voice drops, calm and deliberate. Death’s presence fills the room.]
What do I think of myself?
You mortals talk as if you know me.
Darkness. Rotting. Horrible.
Tell me,
has anyone actually seen me?
You are silly.
All of you.
Silly.
(Pauses and then sudden laugh, deep and hollow. Sound: faint echo effect.)
You think you can summon me?
Me?
I arrive on my own.
Accidents? Not just my favourite game.
You people don’t care,
So why should I?
Drink. Drive. Race.
And winners… they earn my embrace.
(Leans forward, voice sharp, almost accusing.)
You pity me? You fool.
I pity you.
You mourn the dead
but neglect the living.
That… just amazes me.
Scene 3: The Interrogator Returns
(Lights: warmer glow returns, though dimmer than before. Sound: ticking steadies again, but softer, fragile.)
(Actor shifts posture, restless again, pacing.)
No, no, don’t mistake me for impatient.
Just… curious.
How do you function?
Do you keep a list?
Spin a wheel? Random?
No? Then… Karma?
(Embarrassed laugh, hand over mouth.)
Sorry, definitely putting a shoe in my mouth later.
So she tells you
Who’s next? Who deserves what?
That’s the game.
But… I’ve heard you hurt.
Like, really hurt.
Don’t blame life for hardships
that’s cheating.
(Awkward grin, leaning toward audience.)
Two seconds, huh?
In bed too?
(Shakes head.) Shoe’s going in, I swear.
Scene 4: Death’s Interrogation
(Lights: harsh white spotlight cuts across the stage, shadowed edges deepen. Sound: ticking halts, replaced by low hum, like a drone.)
[Actor becomes Death again—measured, commanding, filling silence with authority.]
You talk of pain?
And who eases it when it becomes unbearable?
Who takes away the suffering,
when no one else remains?
Yes. You’re welcome.
I rescue you
when life grows too heavy.
I bring peace.
I relieve.
And yet
I am cursed.
Feared.
Hated.
So Karma’s a bitch?
Perhaps.
But at least she doesn’t fake respect.
You don’t talk to me out of care
but out of fear.
Terrified.
Shaking.
You want me on your side.
But Boss, oh no.
It’s just me… and my bitch.
(Leans in, whispering, voice amplified by sudden silence.)
Life is a beautiful dream.
I am your reality.
Life is a lie.
I am the truth.
Life distracts.
I liberate.
Life is fleeting.
I am the end.
(Lights fade to deep red, then near darkness. Sound: ticking resumes, faster, then cuts off.)
Like it or not
I will come.
Till then…
(soft, almost gentle)
enjoy while it lasts.
[Stage blackout. Silence. The Actor remains seated, still, head bowed. Curtain.]
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