[Scene 5. Ext. – Forest, Dusk] by Brent Robbins

AUDIENCE settles in their seats as curtains rise. CECELIA enters from stage left and looks at the abomination of iron and rope fused to the catwalks the MANAGER jury-rigged from upstage to the mezzanine. Sunlight behind CECELIA fades through the tangle of pulleys, cranks, and gears above her. She lingers mid-stage for a beat too long.

CECELIA: I swear, every day Father grows more cross.

The shadow of a tower looms over CECELIA and AUDIENCE. The sunlight dies behind the horizon, but the shadow clings to CECELIA, as if trying to ease her transition into the dark.

CECELIA: If he won’t listen to me, then I don’t know who will. I must find a way to free her on my own.

ORCHESTRA’s violins sound hopeful. The first constellations and bioluminescence of the forest flicker at the wings of the stage.

GABRIEL (offstage): Psst – over here!

CECELIA: Who? Where?

Enter GABRIEL from above, conveyed by the contraption and its hidden harness in his angelic toga. The stage fully lights up now, and the light of Heaven casts the skeletal shadows of the pulley system onto the trees and bushes. Cue harp sting the AUDIENCE can’t hear over the rhythmic creak of the gears lowering him. FLYMAN grunts with each crank of the contraption.

GABRIEL: Why, ‘tis I. Your Guardian Angel.

CECELIA: So you’re real! I thought I was having a nervous breakdown all this time.

GABRIEL: I have always been real. I’ve watched over you for your entire life. I have revealed myself for the first time to warn you of a harrowing prophecy.

CECELIA: Good heavens! Will I save my sweetheart?

GABRIEL: Alas, in three day’s time, she shall be hung.

CECELIA: Then all hope is lost. Why did you have to bear such awful news?

GABRIEL: There is hope! Heed my warning, Cecelia! Take decisive action, and you may yet save her!

Cue ORCHESTRA’s second harp sting, this time, audible.

CECELIA: What must I do?

GABRIEL: First! Know your father has been unfaithful to your mother. It is his new liaison that will prove your first ally.

CECELIA: My poor mother! Can’t you tell me who I’m supposed to find?

GABRIEL: That, I’m afraid, can only be revealed at the proper time. Second! Take heed that the solstice approaches on the final night before your beloved’s execution. The length and nature of the night shall be to your advantage.

CECELIA: Long nights torture me so.

GABRIEL: Third and final! Remember the games of hide-and-go-seek you played with your father. Remember how to find small cracks only a child could fit through.

CECELIA: I’m fully grown now! How could I expect to fit?

GABRIEL: I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything else. If I did, I’d face severe punishment from the grand forces of heaven. Now, farewell, Cecelia!

Lights sparkle at the foot of the stage. GABRIEL flies over the AUDIENCE. Contraption creaks with every crank of the rope.

CECELIA: No! Come back, spirit! Tell me more! What must I do?

The screaming of metal against metal drowns out the sentimental ORCHESTRA. GABRIEL waves farewell and stutters one creak at a time, toward the stage lights, which shine full brightness on him and the skeletal girders supporting him. Then, clunk! Gears freeze. ORCHESTRA peters out as GABRIEL levitates over the middle of the packed house. The rope creaks under his weight.

FLYMAN (offstage): Fuck!

GABRIEL looks down at the crowd. A single drop of sweat rolls off his forehead and splashes on the armrest of the chair below. AUDIENCE strains their necks to see him despite the stage lights. The expressions on their faces remain placid, flat as a lake on a windless day.

GABRIEL: Oh, yeah, I guess there was a fourth thing.

CECELIA: Pray tell, what could it be?

GABRIEL: Your dad? He’s a, um, very important guy.

CECELIA: Is there redemption to be had after how he’s treated Mother?

GABRIEL: You see, there’s a reason your dad’s been cheating on your mom. He’s really not that bad a guy, I promise.

CECELIA: Surely a wise man such as he must operate off some logic. Right?

FLYMAN clanks across the catwalk and sprays grease on the wheels. Once again, GABRIEL’s support network whines, and the angel’s body shudders as if from a strong wind.

GABRIEL: There’s, umm, there’s also a fifth thing I should mention.

CECELIA: Fifth thing? Wait, what’s my father’s reason?

GABRIEL: Oh, that’s another one of those things I can’t tell you. We angels are often bound by, I guess you’d call them divine codes. We can’t tell you Earthlings anything. Yeah, we really hate your guts that way.

The theater’s overhead lights return like a second day. Every nook and cranny of the magic forest is flattened without shadow. Every bolt and screw of the contraption is visible, as light reflects off its caked layers of black spray paint.

GABRIEL: I’m scared of heights.

CECELIA (coughing): I would have expected angels to be well acquainted with high places. Considering they live in Heaven.

MANAGER breaks through the double doors and trods towards the ladder to the catwalks.

MANAGER: Everyone stay in your seats! This is all part of the show.

CECELIA waves at the MANAGER and points at the strange apparition dangling in the sky, only to be shushed. Every step up the ladder is another clank.

CECELIA: Yes, I imagine God would want you dead for telling me so much. I suppose I’ll have to save you, too. Oh, why does this always happen to me? Where can I find strength?

GABRIEL (pawing at the rope tethering him to the contraption): I feel sick.

FLYMAN (offstage): Hold fucking still! Christ!

CECELIA: Perhaps the weight of our earthly atmosphere doesn’t agree with you.

MANAGER’s footsteps clank overhead. AUDIENCE murmurs.

MANAGER (offstage): What’s the big issue? You trying to make me look bad?

GABRIEL: Oh, God, I’m gonna puke.

FLYMAN (offstage): Sir, we need to call intermission to get him down safely.

CECELIA: Alas! Even the angels are plagued with the same bodily imperfections that afflict us mortals. Take slow, deep breaths.

MANAGER (offstage): Intermission isn’t until after this scene.

GABRIEL (burping): Shit, you think I should close my eyes?

FLYMAN (offstage): We need to get a crash pad ready for him.

GABRIEL: Crash pad?

CECELIA: Close your eyes!

GABRIEL (feet kicking through the air): I still feel like I’m dangling from nothing.

GABRIEL’s sandal splats on the grand staircase between seating blocks A and B. USHERS descend from their perches and enter AUDIENCE, only slightly disturbed from their viewing of the play above.

CECELIA: Angel, perhaps your queasiness is a metaphor for my own indecisiveness. But enough discussion of metaphor. Please, something more concrete.

GABRIEL: Concrete. That’s what I’m going to fall on.

USHERS: All right, we’re going to need everyone to begin slowly exiting this block of seating right here.

MANAGER (offstage): Absolutely not! Everyone stay in your seats!

GABRIEL’s shadow hangs over the center of block B. B for Bullseye. Waves of red velvet and black plastic cascade beneath him.

FLYMAN (offstage): Sir, please, we need to take safety precautions.

CECELIA: If angels feel the same sorrows, please tell me they experience the same joys. Please, find me a story to soothe my heart and yours.

MANAGER (offstage): You own this fucking theater?

GABRIEL: I, ahh, I’ll tell you, oh Lord – I’ll tell you about how I got into theater. How about that?

FLYMAN (offstage): No.

CECELIA: They have theater up in Heaven? How wonderful.

MANAGER (offstage): Well, I do, and you can get the fuck out of it. You’re fired. You hear me? F-I-R-E-D.

GABRIEL: When I was a kid, I wore costumes everywhere. I was super anxious, so I liked dressing up like a superhero and pretending I had powers.

FLYMAN (offstage): You’re firing me for doing my job?

MANAGER (offstage): You sabotaged me. This worked so well in rehearsals.

GABRIEL: I always picked the ones who wore masks. How many people are in the audience tonight? Full house?

MANAGER (offstage): Well, I’ve had enough of saboteurs. Get out! I built this with my own two hands, do you hear me? I don’t need you.

FLYMAN (offstage): Yeah, yeah, whatever.

Enter FLYMAN from stage up. No spotlight trains on him. The only thing marking him against the beige walls is his black outfit, selected to blend into the pitch-black ceiling. The heads of the AUDIENCE turn to him, and he shakes his head with dismay.

FLYMAN (to GABRIEL): I wish I could’ve helped, Bob.

GABRIEL: He’s going to get me down, right?

FLYMAN: I don’t know, dude.

GABRIEL: Well, fuck this. I quit. I don’t care anymore.

CECELIA: Spirit! Are you forsaking your duties to God? I knew not that angels were capable of such actions.

GABRIEL (to CECELIA): Lucy, cut the bit, okay? I’m done. I’m sorry, could everyone below me please move? I’m going to –

GABRIEL retches.

GABRIEL: Oh, God, it’s all over. Boss! Lift me up! I’m gonna hurl!

CECELIA: Deep breaths, Bob. Box breathe! Box breathe!

GABRIEL trembles over AUDIENCE. Loud thuds echo from the roof like a sunshower turned powerful thunderstorm as MANAGER slams his wrench into his fine contraption. AUDIENCE shifts in their seats. The thunder echoes in their souls, yet the crisp lights and shadeless sets stifle any developing stormy atmosphere.

MANAGER (offstage): Relax. Why are you in such a hurry to leave, anyways?

GABRIEL jerks back into motion. The rope strains like a harp string stretched past its note. The MANAGER’s sweat lubricates the gears, and he grunts as he forces each revolution. The angel GABRIEL takes wild swings over the AUDIENCE and inches towards the back of the hall. The ORCHESTRA fires up one more sting, and the forest’s sun sets. Just as the stars peek past the curtain again, the rope snaps. GABRIEL flails, spirals, thrashes, and lands back-first on seat B-52. The chair collapses, and the guest, MR. CARROLL, lies flat underneath a fallen angel. Both lose consciousness.

Two USHERS grab GABRIEL, two more grab MR. CARROLL. Exit GABRIEL stage rear left. Exit MR. CARROLL stage rear right. MANAGER clanks across the catwalk, slides down the ladder. Exit MANAGER stage left. CECELIA is now alone. ORCHESTRA is silent. Sunset is aborted.

CECELIA: Well…

AUDIENCE remains seated. Lights overhead brighten and darken.

CECELIA: Sunset! The time when dawn ends and night begins. A liminal state between waking and sleeping. Long have I been torn between the life I’ve led and the life I’ve dreamed of. My lover lies locked in a tower. A horrible fate. Surely there must be something I can do? Anyone? No, of course not. Gabriel, in his own way, relayed God’s message to me. Like Icarus before him fell from the sun. And God, so aggressive above him. I can sense the spirits’ frustration with my… my ineptitude. Then a decision must be reached on my own. Yes, that’s it. That must be it. I can choose to fly, much like I can choose to fall. And I choose to fly away with my lover. Right. That’s it. Rather than fall victim to my own hesitance and my father’s pressures.

AUDIENCE murmurs.

CECELIA: My father, the King? Remember? The spirits gave me hints, yes? Well, onward! And upward! To new heights, even if I end up crashing down. Gabriel, what a teacher you were! I cannot thank you enough. Well then, that’s all. No use carrying on. I’ll flee with my lover, and then we’ll take flight and live in Hawaii. I’ll conduct my work in secret, so, uh, God?
MANAGER does not respond.

CECELIA: Hey, God? Please cut the stars and the lights, thanks.

MANAGER can be heard mumbling assent, offstage.

CECELIA (as the curtains swing shut): Good night, everyone! Kindly make your way to the door. Watch your step. I hope we never see each other again.

[END OF PLAY.]

Brent Robbins is a Florida man living in Japan. His work has been previously published in The Mangrove Review, Seledka, and on Substack. When’s he’s not writing, he’s teaching English, going to the onsen, and watching bad movies. Follow him on Substack @brentrobbins