The Teacher's Conference

Written by: Gabby Steib


Mr Wilson: Alright class, after today's lecture on Civil Rights, I want you to go home and write about some issue that we still battle with today. It's nineteen eight five not nineteen fifty eight, but things in the world are still unbalanced. Oh, and Jeff, I'd like to meet with you after class.

[Bell Rings]

Jeff:  You wanted to see me Mr. Wilson?

Mr. Wilson: Ah, yes. Jeff your parents keep calling me to make sure you aren't getting into any trouble at school.

Jeff: Really? That's odd. Sir I really don't have time to get into trouble seeing as how I go work at the zoo after school and then go straight home to study.

Mr. Wilson: Is that so? Well that's quite ironic Jeff, don't you think? I mean you're sheltered so much at home and then you work at a place that professionally shelters and cages animals. Do you ever feel the need to break away? Maybe even let loose for a little?

[Mr. Wilson puts a hand on Jeff's knee.]

Jeff: I suppose so...

Lost

Imagine.

This is the experience that you've always wanted. You are in the land of wine and cheese. Where all of the beautiful people leisurely smoke their cigarettes and sip on tiny coffees at small tables in a cafe. Yes, this is your moment. You have always believed that you were born in the wrong country, and here is your chance to redeem yourself. But...you do not speak French. Nevertheless you must find your way to school for your first day of classes.
You begin your journey on a beautiful stone paved road. You open your map in front of you at the expense of looking like a tourist and find that your map is (of course) in French. You look up and scan your surroundings...where are the signs? Oh, right there! But, that is in French too. Damnit. Why didn't you take French more seriously? How did you think you were going to live here for an entire year without knowing anything?!
Breathe. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. Just keep walking. The Université d'Aix-Marseille shouldn't be that hard to find. Right? Right? I'm sure it's here somewhere... Oh, but now it's raining. Breathe. No biggie. You just need to focus on finding the road and getting to school, so you march on. And then it continues to rain. And pour. And-is that lightning? Why did you forget your umbrella? And what is the word for umbrella anyway?
You look down. Your map is starting to dissolve into a colorful mess. Don't cry. It's fine... Okay you can cry a little. But make it look like the rain is in your eyes. You don't have an umbrella after all. Just don't panic. Your heart is beating a little faster as you look down at your watch. It's ten minutes to nine. You can't be late for your first class. How are you going to get there?
Oh, there are two old men over there. Maybe they'd be willing to help a lost American. You approach nervously. Crap! How do you ask for directions?
"Um. Exusez-moi. Uh, Où est rue d'Italie?"
The two men look at each other. Hopefully they understood through your terrible accent. They begin to argue. Shit. You don't have time for this. They look at you expectantly, and then they each point in the opposite direction. Great. Five minutes to nine. Your best bet may just be to go back home. At least you know where that is. One of the men snap to get your attention and points to a sign.
"C'est ici!"
You look up and find a bright yellow sign pointing you down the street and you follow it with your eyes to see that the University is down the street. Yes! Yes! Yes! You begin to run toward it. At this point, you decide that it's okay to look like a crazy American, because you my friend, are not going to be late for class.

Pancakes

Flour. Oil. Eggs. Milk.

I remember that sunny Saturday morning. I was eight years old, and I picked out my favorite multicolored striped dress just for Mommy's birthday. Sunlight was pouring through the kitchen window as Daddy brought Simon and me downstairs to help him make his special cinnamon apple pancakes. The light was making the dark mahogany cabinets even darker, and the silver faucet in the sink gleam. I was finally tall enough to reach over the counter, so Daddy let me measure out the four cups of flour in a bright orange measuring cup, and dump it clumsily into a large white mixing bowl. No matter how much fluffy, white, powder covered the granite counter tops, Daddy always smiled as if I was doing the best job in the world. Simon was in charge of cracking the eggs and dumping the goopy suns in the messy mixture while Daddy was always the stirrer. As soon as Daddy clicked on the ice blue flame from the gas stove I knew the waft of cinnamon was about to dance through the air, and then Mommy would know that we were making something special. Daddy poured the mix into a big black skillet, like the moon setting in the night sky. He cooked one side, and then the other. Before we all knew it we had three perfectly stacked golden-brown pancakes, topped with a white square of butter and drizzled syrup. Simon brought out the fancy silver tray for me to put the plate of pancakes on. Simon poured her a side of orange juice while Daddy topped it all of with a rose and a card signed by all of us. We walked up the stairs in anticipation. Slow, sneaky movements so that Mommy would be surprised. I will never forget Daddy opening the door and the world feeling like it was moving in slow motion as he dropped the fancy silver tray and went to Mommy's side. As Simon and I entered the bedroom we saw Mommy face down in a bright scarlet pool of her own blood. There was a rock in my throat and suddenly I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. Daddy turned her limp body over like a rag doll and examined the angry gash in her head. Tiny white bubbles were spewing from her mouth, and at that moment I realized Daddy's rose would soon be put on a large, grey tombstone.

The Night

Darkness dampens the woods
Doning the silvery, gossamer cloak of moonlight
Dragging out the silence of the night

Best Friends

Tiny rooftop apartment in the middle of New York. Two girls are sitting on a couch in the living room watching TV.

Girl 1: Hey, what time is it?

Girl 2: Time for you to get the hell out of my apartment.

Girl 1: Don't be like that. I know you love me.

Girl 2: You wish I did.

Girl 1: Why are you so pissy lately? I mean really! If Mariah were here, what would she say?

Girl 1 points to a poster of Mariah Carey on the wall.

Girl 2: Up Out My Face.

Girl 1: Yes...but more so, Shake it Off. Let's get up and do something. This mind numbing television is giving me a headache.

Girl 2: Who told you to come over here in the first place?

Girl 1:Your Mom.

Girl 2: You're lucky I'm too tired to sock you in the face.

The Tunnels

10-6-2013

Characters:

Everyone

Kamile

Mom

Ashley

Little Girl

Setting: Chuck E. Cheese

There is stage is covered in pink and white balloons,streamers, and a pile of gifts in the upper right hand corner. There is also a large table on the right side of the stage. My friends and family are all sitting around me, as a sit in the middle with a birthday hat on.In the background on the left side of the stage, are large,colorful tunnels, cloaked in shadow.

(Enter Mom stage left with the birthday cake, everyone sings.)

Everyone: Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you...

There is a slight rattle in the background from the tunnels. Kamile looks back anxiously, then adjusts her birthday hat and continues to smile.

Everyone:Happy Birth-day dear Kamiiiiiii-le. Happy Birthday to yooooooooooou!

Mom puts down the cake and begins cutting it. Everyone begins chatting. Kamile looks around for her little brother who seems to be missing from the table.Kamile turns to her cousin on the left side of her.

Kamile:Ashley, do you know where my brother is?

Ashley: No idea.

I turn to my Mom.

Kamile: Mom, where is Jonathan?

Mom: (distracted) I dunno. Maybe in the tunnels or something...

Kamile:Mom he's only two! He can't go up there! He'll get lost forever!

Mom:Well just go get him then.

(Mom exits stage right)

Ashley leans over to me.

Ashley:Kamile you have to go get Jonathan out of there. There's going to be an earthquake!

Me: But I can't fit up there! I'm eight years old!

Ashley: I can't go get him, I'm bigger than you. Just do it.

Me:But I'm scared...

Ashley: You're always scared. Just go!

The party scene fades away. The large tunnels come into the foreground. The front of the tunnel is cut away so that the audience can see me crawling through. The tunnel begins on the left side of the stage and continues until the middle and cuts off. On the right side of the stage there is a large dark space, with the sounds of boiling water. Kamile crawls through cautiously. Then Kamile stops. It's too dark.

Kamile: I want to go back...

Suddenly a girl grabs on to the edge of the tunnel screaming.

Little Girl: Help Me! Please!

Kamile grabs her hand and pulled her into the space of yellow. The girl covered her face while hysterically crying.

Kamile: Are you ok? What happened?

Little Girl: She almost got me!

Me: Who?

Little Girl: The witch in the black tunnel! She eats children!

The little girl removes her hand from the left side of her face. Her skin is partially melted away and bleeding.

Little Girl: I want my Mommy!

Kamile: Your face! What happened?

Little Girl: The witch... she tried to put me in the boiling pot, but the lights helped me run away!

Kamile: Lights?

Little Girl:They are in the corner of the house, sometimes they make you disappear...I want to go home.

Kamile: Don't worry. You can leave that way.

The Little Girl starts crawling quickly behind Kamile.

Kamile:Wait! Have you seen a toddler? He has fair skin, light brown eyes, and a lot of hair?

The Little Girl nods yes.

Little Girl: The witch is trying to eat him.