First dream

I'll go by what I said in the comments of this post to see how it works. Instead of writing scenes as such, I created something more like comic book panels. Being without a scanner or digital camera, it's not possible for me to upload pictures. And I won't even both trying to draw anything using a mouse.

I don't know. It feels scant. Is it enough to base a performance on?

PANEL 1
ORIXA wandering in a dense fog.

PANEL 2
ANANSI in the form of an old woman coming along.

PANEL 3
Orixa and Anansi sharing a cigar (or perhaps some other substance stuffed in a cigar) and rum.

PANEL 4
Anansi transforming into a spider.

PANEL 5
Anansi weaving cloth from night sky.

PANEL 6
Anansi wrapping Orixa in cloth.

PANEL 7
Orixa tossing and turning as she sleeps.

PANEL 8
BRIARS growing around Orixa.

Scene in progress (pt 2)

Orixa awakens weeping, trembling, whimpering in . . .

A room in Grandmother's house. Dark, intimate, like a cave or womb or tomb. We are CATS watching from the shadows.

GRANDMOTHER rushes to help. Comforts Orixa. Calms her fears while Orixa clings to her. Brings Orixa a slice of minced meat pie*.

Orixa notices something strange about Grandmother's eyes (a bit larger than usual? Maybe just the shadows playing on Grandmother's face). Grandmother soothes Orixa while Orixa eats the pie. Gentle pats, strokes, scratches - almost as though Orixa is canine. Orixa notices something weird about Grandmother's hands (too big? Slightly clawed? Maybe Grandmother just hasn't clipped her nails in a while). Grandmother gives Orixa a maternal kiss. Orixa wolfs down the pie. Nearly chokes. Coughs up something (What the - ?). It's a human finger bone.

Orixa sits limply, staring at Grandmother. Recoils when Grandmother reaches to discard the bone. Stares at Grandmother in mute horror. Grandmother closes the distance. Coaxes Orixa out of cloak. Hugs Orixa close - tender, protective, soothing.

Gently leads Orixa to a dark spot amidst the cats (ie, us). Takes out a wolfskin. Shows it to Orixa. See? Harmless. Urges her to try it on. Orixa refuses. Grandmother dons wolfskin. Transforms into a huge WOLF. Shift is fluid, natural as breathing. Not so much a real wolf as the spirit of night - shadows and moonlight and mist - taking wolf form. During transformation, Orixa retreats. Notices shears. Stealthily picks them up and hides them.

Wolf approaches, almost gliding to her. Extends a hand/paw to Orixa, a silent invitation to be part of this magic. Orixa hesitates. Accepts. Wolf pulls Orixa close. Inhales her scent. Gives her an affectionate lick. Orixa lets Wolf hold her close, keeping her warm (Much better than that ratty old cloak, isn't it, dear?).

Orixa musters all her strength and courage. Stabs Wolf. Wolf falls upon Orixa, dead. Orixa slips from Wolf. A pregnant pause. Orixa uses shears to remove the Wolf's pelt. Grandmother - human Grandmother - lies beneath. Orixa caresses Grandmother one last time. Takes wolfskin off her. Holds wolfskin close while gazing at Grandmother. Changes into wolf. Transformation slow and painful as bones, joints, skin stretch and contort into shape. Metamorphosis complete, Orixa devours Grandmother's flesh. Flees to . . .

TBC . . .

Note: During Witch Hunting Times (my moniker), it was believed that witches could transform into wolves by putting on wolf skins.

Note 2: In one telling of Red Riding Hood, the wolf gets Red Riding Hood to eat some of Granny's flesh (unbeknownst to Red Riding Hood).

Scene in progress (pt 1)

Orixa dons the cloak*, becoming Red Riding Hood as the dreamscape changes to . . .

A deep in dense forest. Twilight. We are TREES in wilderness, silent witnesses to what's to come. Strange SHADOWS pass through the woods, watching and following Orixa as she wanders helplessly. Something malevolent, predatory about them.

Orixa walks along a path through the trees (ie, us). Absently grazes leaves and branches, perhaps plucks off a few twigs or picks up a few things from the forest floor. Notices something glimmering just off the path. Hesitates a moment. Pursues the shining and finds a pair of polished shears. Examines them carefully, tests their sharpness on a stray twig before pocketing them.

Night falls.

Orixa tries to return to path but can't find it. Tears through trees (ie, us), frantically searching for signs of her passing - tracks, broken branches, the positions of the stars, anything - but finds none.

Orixa stumbles upon a small glade. Catches her breath. In the darkness, Orixa notices baleful red eyes gleaming like bicycle lights. She takes out shears. Sees something horrible in the shadows. Drops shears and runs as fast as she can.

Shadows swoop upon Orixa. Orixa screams, faints. Blackout.

TBC . . .

*Note: In the previous scene (the one in my head, not the one on paper), I imagined the old woman (or rather, the fairy in disguise) to have been weaving a blood red cloak.

Act 4, Scene 4

[Mood music: Dead Can Dance - "The Lotus Eaters"]

With the loving cruelty of a dominatrix, Seraph tears away all traces of Orixa's mundane self piece by piece. Orixa resists as though Seraph skins her alive, trying to shield herself. but Seraph persists. They writhe intertwined like two snakes on a caduceus - intimate, graceful, hypnotic. Seraph strokes and kisses and licks away Orixa's pain and injury, healing the wounds even as they are made. Orixa surrenders, allowing Seraph to strip away the last vestiges of her human form.

The seed of Orixa's being is naked. Seraph comforts her.

[Mood music: Danzig - "Her Black Wings"]

Seraph adorns Orixa with a gown like the midnight sky, glorious black wings, and a halo like a crown of golden thorns. Orixa flows into her new form like blood flows through veins. Seraph gently guides her with the fluid grace of a swimming snake, caressing and kissing and licking each part of Orixa as it assumes its new shape. Orixa is now an angel of night and dreams.

Seraph marvels at her. Orixa stretches her wings. Together they fly out of our world into the Words Beyond.

Act 4 notes

Scene 1
We are trees in the heart of the enchanted forest. Orixa in torpor.

SERAPH wanders into forest. Gothic fantasy of a fairy tale prince. Princely woman wearing red, as though garments and makeup dyed with blood. Something slightly off that gives a hint of danger (claws? fangs? pointed ears?). Calls to mind serpent, big cat, bird of prey.

S comes upon the briars gleaming in the moonlight. Approaches briars. Briars untangle and blossom with crimson roses. They usher S deeper into the forest by sprinkling petals along a path toward O. Looks like blood raining from their thorns. S follows the rose petal path. She reaches O.

Scene 2
[Mood music: Air, "How Does It Make You Feel". Something gentle, sensual, intimate.]

Time slows to a crawl. S caresses O from head to toe, seeking signs of life. Gazes at O for a moment. S unmasks O. Very careful, painstaking. Like holding spider silk. Sets mask aside. If S had lungs her breath would catch.

Seraph spoons Orixa. (What happens before this? I think I wrote something.)

S considers for a moment. Kisses O. By turns sweet and edgy. Might involve a bit of nibbling, a hint of vampirism. (Is the kiss breaking or casting a spell?) O awakens. They see each other for the first time. Time stops.

Scene 3
[Mood music: Massive Attack, "Angel". Something intimate, sensual, hypnotic.]

Seraph fluidly removes human guise. Has 3 pairs of blood red wings. No angel of light an air, but blood and darkness. Angel or demon? S offers hand to Orixa. O accepts.

Takes flight with O. Tender yet firm grasp. Briars fall away as S jets out of the forest, taking O up, up, up . . .

Scene 4
[Mood music: Blondie, "Rapture". Something transcendent, intimate, chthonic.]

Seraph envelops Orixa in tender, protective embrace. Rips off O's human form. Adorns O with a pair of glorious black wings. Sets crown made of golden thorns upon O's head. Leads O toward heaven.

Fly around each other. Intimate, sensual, edgy. Like serpents of a caduceus. Auryn. Fluid as blood flowing.

Etude 4 - Practical example

Scene 1
We enter and get settled.

[Mood music: complete silence]

In the womblike darkness, ORIXA sits alone, completely still and absorbed in thought. Clothed completely in white, her face is covered by an expressionless white mask. There is a stillness to her that makes her seem pristine, ethereal, spooky - as if she could be a virgin, a saint, or a ghost.

Once we are in place, Orixa looks at us and sees us - really sees us. Her gaze is intent, laserlike, not so much just seeing as dissecting. And for a moment we all have a foot in 2 different worlds: the ordinary world and the world beneath it.

The ordinary world fades away.

Scene 2
[Mood music: "Teardrop" by Massive Attack]

We are now trees and/or spirits in a forest on a moonlit night, a sanctuary of dreams both dark and light. Shadowy SHAPES - they could be trees, animals (cats? owls? wolves?), or even ghosts - move subtly in the background as if blown by a gentle wind or floating on their own. Several pairs of eyes could watch from the darkness.

Orixa decorates us with lotus blossoms (origami?). Focused and graceful, she resembles a priestess making offerings at a holy shrine. She finds a clear spot, sits, and meditates.

A CATERPILLAR enters the forest carrying a spinning wheel.

Orixa notices it.

Slow and deliberate, the caterpillar finds a spot with plenty of moonlight then carefully arranges itself and the wheel.

Orixa watches, transfixed.

The caterpillar spins and spins, weaving yards and yards of enchanted "fabric" (more like a silken shawl) of a mystically significant color (maybe royal blue). Unrushed and methodical, there is a meditative quality to the way the caterpillar goes about its work.

Orixa inches closer - but not too close.

The caterpillar slowly and carefully wraps itself in the cloth. It forms a cocoon around itself, covering its feet, body, and head. It goes perfectly still.

Orixa approaches the cocoon. She tries to peek inside, listens at it, taps it. Nothing happens.

Orixa goes to the spinning wheel, examining it like a crash-landed UFO.

The cocoon stirs, slightly at first but soon it stretches the fabric until it starts to split.

Orixa waits.

Scene 3

[Mood music: dubstep]

The cocoon unravels. A FAIRY emerges, peeling off the cocoon. A creature of dark glamor that resembles a blood red rose in all its contradictory beauty - soft petal and sharp thorn, red blossom and green stem. She may even have wings like a lunar moth, making her look like a kind of feral angel of forest and roses and moonlight. Fluid and ininhibited, her slightest movements in tune with a strange, hypnotic rhythm. Even the least of her movements is part of a dance.

Orixa marvels, orbiting around the fairy as she rids herself of the cocoon.

Her cocoon shed, the fairy holds a hand out to Orixa, inviting her to the spinning wheel. She leads Orixa to the wheel the way a great dancer leads an inexperienced partner - smooth, confident, even seductive. She patiently guides Orixa through the motions of the wheel. As Orixa gets used to the wheel, the fairy gradually lets Orixa weave by herself.

Orixa's hand slips, and she stabs herself on the spindle. The fairy gently examines the wound. Orixa drifts to sleep. The fairy catches her as she slumps, wrapping her in her discarded cocoon and guiding her to the floor as the shadowy shapes transform into BRIARS. The fairy disappears into the night.

The briars gather around Orixa, forming a thorny cocoon around her as she dreams . . .

Etudes 2&3 - practical example

Continuing from where we left off (with some additions) . . .

We enter and get settled. In the womblike darkness, we see ORIXA sitting onstage, absorbed in thought. Clothed completely in white with her face covered by an expressionless white mask, she seems ethereal and spooky, ghostlike. Maybe it's because she sits too still for too long, or the way she almost seems invisible because she does not react to us at all.

Once we are in place, Orixa looks at us and sees us - really sees us. Her gaze is intent, laserlike, not so much just seeing as dissecting. And for a moment we all have a foot in 2 different worlds: our everyday world and the world of the play.

The everyday world fades away.

We are now trees and/or spirits in a spooky forest on a foggy, moonlit night. There is a sense of presence in this place, as if something unseen sees us. Shadowy SHAPES - trees perhaps, or maybe ghosts - move subtly in the background.

A CATERPILLAR slowly and deliberately enters the forest carrying a spinning wheel. It finds a spot with plenty of moonlight then carefully arranges itself and the wheel.

Orixa watches, transfixed.

The caterpillar spins and spins, weaving yards and yards of enchanted "fabric" (more like a silken shawl) of a mystically significant color. Unrushed and methodical, there is a meditative quality to the way the caterpillar goes about its work.

Orixa marvels, drawing closer - but not too close.

As the caterpillar completes the task, it slowly and carefully wraps itself in the cloth. It forms a coccoon around itself, covering its feet, body, and head. It goes perfectly still.

Orixa carefully examines the coccoon. She tries to peek inside, listens at it, taps it.

The coccoon stirs (Orixa retreats), slightly at first but sooni t stretches the fabric until it starts to split.

Orixa waits for the thing inside.

The coccoon unravels. A FAIRY emerges. A creature of dark glamor that resembles a blood red rose in all its contradictory beauty - soft petal and sharp thorn, red blossom and green stem. She may even have wings like a lunar moth, making her look like a kind of feral angel of forest and roses and moonlight.

That's it for now. I know: cliffhangers are cheap, but this is honestly where I stopped.

Etude 1 - Practical example (opening scene)

Applying the previous exercise to my current work, here is the opening of the play:

We enter and get settled. In the womblike darkness, we see ORIXA sitting onstage, absorbed in thought. Clothed completely in white with her face covered by an expressionless white mask, she seems ethereal and spooky, ghostlike. Maybe it's because she sits too still for too long, or the way she almost seems invisible because she does not react to us at all.

Once we are in place, Orixa looks at us and sees us - really sees us. Her gaze is intent, laserlike, not so much just seeing as dissecting. And for a moment we all have a foot in 2 different worlds: our everyday world and the world of the play.

The everyday world fades away.

Prologue (draft 2)

(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 . . .

Draft - Prologue (of sorts)

This is me working out some stuff. For some odd reason, I write better when I post than when I simply type it or write it. Feel free to comment, but this is not ready for a critique just yet (namely because it isn't done). The scene isn't finished mainly because the rest of the play isn't. I may follow up with some notes or something.

I do, however, have an issue with format. Although I could technically put this as a very long scene description, is there an alternative method I can use to convey the flow of what happens on stage?

PROLOGUE
As we settle in and get quiet, we become sentient trees inhabiting a magical forest.

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.

GIRL rides a bike through the forest. Wearing all white and a blank white mask covering her face, she looks like a ghost (which, perhaps, she is). She floats through the tress (who are watching) as if in her own little world.

CRONE arrives draped in a shadowy cloak that hides her face. Prowling the outskirts of the forest, she waits and watches, intrigued by the bike, this incarnation of human ingenuity. Girl notices Crone. She dismounts and invites Crone to examine the bike. Crone emerges from the shadows and does so. She mounts the bike and rides a little, swiftly and easily flying through the trees like an owl. Girl marvels.

Crone flips the bike upside-down. It is now a spinning wheel. She spins. Girl marvels at it. Crone beckons Girl to the wheel. Girl keeps her distance. Crone ushers Girl to the spinning wheel, a gesture both nurturing and seductive. She positions Girl at the wheel. Girl tries her hand at spinning but slips up and pricks her finger. Crone watches as Girl stumbles away from wheel. Consciousness slipping away, Girl falls.

Crone transforms into a powerful ENCHANTRESS. Girl drifts into a torpor. Enchantress laughs and vanishes. Girl, now SLEEPING BEAUTY, 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 bloody GROOM dumping body parts into a sack . . .

A MIRROR beckoning all to look . . .

[more TBD]