The Box

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Box

 

By Riley Rydin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cast of Characters

 

 

JOHN (ADULT)                           A righteous, clean-cut family man with a troubled past which has healed over like a thick scar. Passively acknowledged, but never realized until struck.

 

ALAN SMITH                             A kindly but curt old man, with a withered smiling face which contrasts with his sharp, uniform suit which he wears underneath a long trench coat. His warm presence soothes the rough and difficult nature of his work. Death’s kindhearted shadow of midwestern sensibility.

 

MATEO FLORES (CHILD)                   A sweet and sensitive little boy with a smallish presence. Mateo cannot speak English to save his life, although his expressions speak volumes.              

 

JOHN (CHILD)                           A boisterous and charismatic little boy, John is an ideal best grade school friend, save his concerning and somewhat surprising mean streak.

 

MATEO FLORES (ADULT)                   A simple and laid-back man with a calm demeanor. He’s inherently kind and forgiving, but has definitely been hurt and is somewhat wea

 

LIGHTS RISE ON a simple square defined in a subdued fashion which

encompasses a generous portion of the stage. JOHN, a man in simple

pajamas, awakens slowly from a slumber in the center of the square

and quickly enters a state of alarm as he rouses.

 

JOHN

Where am I?

 

Confused, JOHN inspects his surroundings and himself in a steady but disconcerted fashion. Noting the boundaries on the floor, JOHN presses his hand firmly against the invisible wall. JOHN suddenly recoils as if burned and stumbles back. Suddenly, the door opens, and ALAN SMITH enters with a casual gait, his black polished shoes clicking in the silence of the stage. He removes his long overcoat and hangs it on a coat rack, placing his black fedora on top with care.

 

JOHN

Who are you, and where am I?

 

 

 

 

 

ALAN SMITH

Well that’s certainly a way of saying hello. I must say, you

kids are getting less and less courteous all the time. Oh, now

look at me, acting all high-and-mighty while being no-less rude

to you.

ALAN SMITH offers his hand, a warm smile cracking along his soft and aged face.

 

ALAN SMITH

My name is Alan Smith. Pleased to meet you.

                            

JOHN knows he should be weary of this strange man and is still very much confused. But, something about the charismatic old man’s friendly attitude and sensibility makes him trust the man regardless as he reaches out his hand to meet ALAN SMITH’S.

 

JOHN

John, pleased to meet you.

 

ALAN SMITH

Well your father taught you how to shake at the very least, so that’s comforting.

 

(John chuckles darkly)

 

 

 

JOHN

My father didn’t teach me jack squat, thank you very much. He formally introduced himself to me the day I turned 18 and ran for the hills as soon as he had seen what a mess he had created.

 

(ALAN SMITH laughs sincerely)

 

ALAN SMITH

You’re a facetious one, aren’t you?

 

JOHN

It’s a coping mechanism, and a bad one at that.

 

ALAN SMITH

I can see that. Well, enough chit chat. You’re probably wondering why you’re here.

 

JOHN

I’m actually more concerned with where “Here” is, if you wouldn’t mind.

 

ALAN SMITH

I do. Because where here is, what here is, and why you find yourself here are three questions with approximately the same answer. If you haven’t noticed,

 

(ALAN SMITH Raps on the invisible wall with his CANE, banging SFX play.)

 

 

 

ALAN SMITH (cont.)

You are trapped inside a box.

 

JOHN

Yes, I was at least able to pick up that hot tip.

 

ALAN SMITH casually walks over to one of two chairs centerstage, huddled around a humble end table. He takes a seat, and JOHN follows suit.

 

ALAN SMITH

Yes, most are able to figure out at least that much. However, fewer people can discern much more than that.

 

(JOHN, well into a train of thought of his own, almost interrupts ALAN SMITH as his thought comes to fruition.)

 

 JOHN

Is this a dream?

 

ALAN SMITH

In a sense, yes. But this is more complicated than that. Note that you aren’t flying or waking up as one usually does when they discover that they are dreaming.

 

(ALAN SMITH thuds the ground with his cane)

 

 

ALAN SMITH (Cont.)

See? Still solid as a rock.

JOHN

Well, then this doesn’t make any sense. How can I be trapped in a room with no walls and a stranger if I’m not dreaming?

 

ALAN SMITH

That, is where things get interesting. While yes, we are in fact deep in your subconscious while your body is asleep, we are also trapped by walls made not of wood or stone, but of your own shame and guilt. Well, you are anyways.

 

JOHN

When will I wake up?

 

ALAN SMITH

Oh, I don’t know, seven and a half hours? But it doesn’t really matter, now does it? Seeing as dreams don’t obey the laws of time, you may as well just be stuck here forever, locked within a cage you yourself neglected to break apart.

 

(Horror begins to fill JOHN’s heart)

 

JOHN

Well what’s that supposed to mean?

 

ALAN SMITH

It means that you are in what some would call purgatory, except it’s all contained within yourself. You tried to wash away the indignities of your past, but they seem to have just clogged the drain, as you never truly processed or dealt with them in any real sense of the word. The only way to escape is to dissolve enough of your trauma to find a way out.

 

 

JOHN

And how am I supposed to do that? You said yourself that I didn’t really deal with them in the moment, so what makes you think I’ll be able to deal with them now?

 

ALAN SMITH

You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t ready, John. Now, do you recall what happened when you touched the wall earlier?

 

JOHN

How do you know I touched the wall?

 

ALAN SMITH

It was inevitable as a dog left alone with its own feces, if you don’t mind me saying. At least you didn’t run straight into it, some poor fellow did that a while back and I had to spend the first dozen or so minutes patching him up.

 

(ALAN SMITH takes a beat, reminiscing briefly before coming back to business.)

 

ALAN SMITH

Every proverbial brick of these walls contains something from your past you haven’t dealt with. Once resolved, the brick will disappear and you will be one step closer to getting out of this place.

 

(JOHN is extraordinarily distressed)

 

 

JOHN

There must be hundreds if not thousands of bricks in just one of these walls alone. You’re expecting me to do it all in one shot?

 

ALAN SMITH

No, that would be absurd wouldn’t it? I just want you to deal with this one here.

ALAN SMITH walks up to a spot in the wall, tapping it as a sound effect to match plays.

 

ALAN SMITH

Behind this brick in particular dwells a key, which will allow you free entrance and exit to this part of your mind. All I ask is that once you find it, you’ll come back to this place to continue your self-healing on your own accord.

 

JOHN

Fair enough, I can do that.

 

ALAN SMITH

Good, good. Now, are you ready to open up this long forgotten wound and heal it proper?

 

JOHN

I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be…

 

                                  JOHN walks up to ALAN SMITH

 

 

 

ALAN SMITH

Good. Now just place your hand on the wall like so.

 

(JOHN cringes as his mind is flooded with a

painful memory)

 

ALAN SMITH (Cont.)

Don’t let go. It’s a doozy of a feeling, but you need to let it happen. Let the pain flow into you. Open yourself up.

                                 

THE STAGE GOES abruptly dark.

 

JOHN

What happened? Why did it go dark?

 

ALAN SMITH

Hold your horses. Just watch.

 

A SPOTLIGHT flashes awake, revealing two young boys in the center stage. YOUNG JOHN and YOUNG MATEO FLORES are living out a scene which has lost some of it’s details to time. YOUNG MATEO sits on a simple box, eating a sandwich, while YOUNG JOHN stands around him, entertaining an unseen crowd with an indiscernible gibberish.

 

 

JOHN

Oh my gosh. That’s, Mateo.

 

ALAN SMITH

Oh, so you remember his name? That’s a good start, most don’t even recall their face.

 

JOHN

Of course, I remember him. He was in my fourth-grade class.

 

 

ALAN SMITH

You usually don’t remember the name of any Jon Doe from your childhood, now do you? There’s something special about him, isn’t there?

 

JOHN AND ALAN SMITH move towards the limelight, standing behind the scene in the escaping rays of luminescence on the back edges of the solitary spotlight.

 

ALAN SMITH (Cont.)

Were you friends?

 

(JOHN flashes a look of disbelief towards

ALAN SMITH)

 

JOHN

Are you blind? Look at this. I mean, I’m bullying the snot out of the poor kid.

 

ALAN SMITH

Oh? How so?

 

JOHN

It’s really something I’ve tried to put behind me, if you don’t mind.

 

ALAN SMITH

Good grief man, have you forgotten why you’re here? I do mind. Spit it out.

 

JOHN

Alright, fine. He was an immigrant. I can’t remember from where, but if you can’t tell I could have cared less. Didn’t speak a word of English, so I mostly chewed him out verbally in front of my friends. We thought it was fine since he didn’t understand what we were saying.

 

ALAN SMITH

Oh but he did. Context is everything, and your words, while misunderstood, carried more context then you could ever imagine. This little boy knew he was being trampled, and you know it.

 

(JOHN, now irritated, lashes out)

 

 

 

 

 

 

JOHN

Well what’s the damn point then? Look, I understand what you’re saying, and that what I did was wrong, but this was at least 30 years ago. That’s not me. I’m not like that anymore, I’ve changed. I’m a grown man with a wife and children. I love all people of all backgrounds. Hell! I run the cultural sensitivity program at my damn company for crying out loud! Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t see what I need to change about myself to get over this.

 

ALAN SMITH

I’m disappointed. For a moment there I thought you were one of the sharper ones.

 

JOHN

Excuse me?

 

ALAN SMITH

Just, stop, John. Slow down. Listen.

ALAN SMITH and JOHN stand in silence, watching YOUNG JOHN blow up at the small boy on the box.

 

JOHN
What good does this do me? I can’t understand a word I’m saying.

 

ALAN SMITH

It’s not that you can’t understand what you’re saying, John. It’s that he can’t understand what you’re saying. This isn’t about you. It never was.

 

(JOHN slowly realizes what this entails)

 

JOHN

So, what am I supposed to do?

 

 

ALAN SMITH

Fulfill your regret.

 

JOHN

That being?

 

ALAN SMITH

Only you know that, John.

 

SPOTLIGHT GOES UP in the middle of the stage, where a BRIGHT RED TELEPHONE sits on the simple end table between the two chairs. ALAN SMITH pulls out a note pad and writes something down, his pen scratches cutting through the uneasy silence of the box.

 

ALAN SMITH (Cont.)

Call this number. What you say or do once you reach it is up to you.

 

 

 

 

 

JOHN

Okay, look. I understand that this is a big deal and that it’s the right thing to do. But… it just seems so awkward. Clunky, actually. Not to mention creepy. I mean who randomly calls up a kid from their grade school in the middle of the night? Excluding Norman Bates that is.

 

ALAN SMITH

You’re being blinded, John.

 

JOHN

By what? Common sense?

 

(ALAN SMITH shakes his head in a disappointed fashion)

 

ALAN SMITH

“It was pride, which changed angels into devils; it is humility that makes men into angels.”, Saint Augustine.

 

(JOHN stands in a simmering pool of shame and

conflict)

 

ALAN SMITH

Now hurry along. If you can’t tell, we have all the time in the world.

 

JOHN approaches the phone and slowly dials the number on the piece a paper. RINGING SFX play, and a CLICK cues ADULT MATEO to begin speaking from off-stage.

 

ADULT MATEO

Uh, hello?

 

JOHN

Hey, uh, is this Mateo Flores?

 

 

ADULT MATEO

Yeah, who’s this?

 

JOHN

Hey, uh, my name is John. We went to grade school together, we were in Mrs. Marlatt’s class, remember?

 

(JOHN is greeted by cold silence on the other

end of the line.)

 

 

JOHN

Yeah, so… look. I’m not going to beat around the bush here. I treated you like crap. You didn’t deserve it. You were one of the sweetest, friendliest kids in the entire classroom. And, I’m sorry.

 

ADULT MATEO

For real?

 

 

 

JOHN

Yeah, no really. It’s just, it was chewing me up is all. And I wanted to let you know personally that you didn’t do anything to deserve it.

 

ADULT MATEO

Well, alright then. Thank you. I really appreciate it.

 

JOHN

Yeah, no problem. Uh, I hope to see you around?

 

ADULT MATEO

Yeah, sure. Give me a call if you want to work something out.

 

JOHN

Awesome. Good night Mateo.

 

 

MATEO

‘night.

 

THE RECEIVER CLICKS IN UNISON WITH THE STAGE LIGHTS, which come alive and flood the room, revealing a key where the invisible brick was. A sense of relief and humility washes over JOHN.

 

JOHN

Is that my golden ticket?

 

ALAN SMITH

Yes-sir it is.

JOHN picks up the key and begins to head out the door.

 

ALAN SMITH

Once that door is unlocked, you may return and leave whenever you please.

 

JOHN places the key in the lock, turning around to meet ALAN SMITH’s kind eyes.

 

JOHN

I’ll be back, you know.

 

ALAN SMITH

And I’ll be here waiting.

 

JOHN exits and closes the door behind him. ALAN SMITH folds his arms and appears to fall asleep in his chair.

 

(Lights out.)

 

                                  SFX: A PHONE RINGING