(As we settle in and get quiet, we become sentient trees inhabiting an enchanted forest. This is a mythic landscape that embodies mystery and power. It is the abode of dreams and spirits – haunted and haunting, surreal, otherworldly. Deep shadows may hide . . . things. There may be fog and a full moon.)
Other TREES appear. They seem uncannily humanoid, even to the point of having facial expressions. They walk by uprooting then re-rooting themselves. Their slow, lumbering gait, a sort of shambling, has a rhythm to it, each step like a drumbeat. One by one, they root themselves to a spot and watch. Occasionally they could shift or stir.
[Listening to “Carousel” by Siouxsie and the Banshees]
GIRL rides a bike through the forest. There is something ethereal and creepy about her that makes her resemble a ghost (which, perhaps, she is).
CRONE draped in a shadowy cloak glides amongst us. She keeps to the shadows as she slowly approaches, intrigued by this incarnation of human ingenuity. She has a vitality about her that suggests great hidden power.
Girl notices Crone and invites her to examine the bike. Crone emerges from the shadows and does so. She then mounts the bike and rides. She flies above and around the treetops then descends. (Perhaps Trees lower themselves then return to normal to indicate this.) Girl marvels.
Crone turns bike into spinning wheel, perhaps by flipping it upside down. Girl marvels. Crone beckons Girl to the wheel. Girl hesitates. Crone ushers Girl to the wheel and positions her, a gesture both encouraging and seductive. Girl tries her hand at spinning but slips up and pricks her finger. She starts to lose consciousness.
Crone transforms into a powerful ENCHANTRESS who wears power and beauty like a garment of dreams and nightmares. She laughs as she disappears.
Girl drifts into a torpor and is now SLEEPING BEAUTY. She dreams of . . .
A DWARF trying out the spinning wheel then turning it back into a bike and riding away . . .
A blood RED CLOAK worn by a mysterious figure wandering through the forest . . .
A GROOM carrying a blood-soaked sack . . .
A MIRROR beckoning all to look . . .