The House of Fog by Peter Brammer

Author:Peter Brammer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

Scene Five

(TImOTHy and LUCy are sitting on the bed. TImOTHy ’s head is in her lap. He is sobbing and LUCy is comforting him. NaRRaTOR enters.)

NaRRaTOR. Upstairs, Lucy comforts an upset… Timmykins.

Sorry, couldn’t resist.

(He exits.)

LUCy. It’s all right, my darling. You are upset, it’s understandable in the circumstances. I think your mother was very unfair.

TImOTHy. She was so mean…

LUCy. I know.

TImOTHy. In front of all those people…

LUCy. I know.

TImOTHy. I’ve just lost my father…

LUCy. Sssh, its okay.

TImOTHy. And my stepfather’s Bavarian!

(He cries uncontrollably. LUCy lifts his head up.)

LUCy. You still have me, and I will love you forever… (She kisses him.)

TImOTHy. Will you?

LUCy. Yes. (She nuzzles his neck.)

TImOTHy. And you won’t call me Timmykins?

LUCy. Only if you ask me to?

TImOTHy. Oh, Lucy.

(They kiss and cuddle. Suddenly there is a loud moan.)

LUCy. What was that?

TImOTHy. What, what?

(LUCy looks confused.)

TImOTHy. I mean what was what?

LUCy. That moan.

TImOTHy. I thought it was you.

LUCy. No.

TImOTHy. It was probably nothing.

(They continue kissing. Again there is a moan.)

LUCy. See? Please go see what it is.

TImOTHy. But…we’re going to… Oh, okay…

NaRRaTOR. Timothy went into the hallway and sure enough nothing was there. He was about to return to his room when there was another loud moan. I said, another loud moan…

(There is a loud moan.)

TImOTHy. Hello?

NaRRaTOR. There was no reply.

TImOTHy. I say, is anyone there?

NaRRaTOR. No reply.

TImOTHy. They can tell, you know.

NaRRaTOR. Don’t… start with me.

TImOTHy. Sorry.

NaRRaTOR. He went to re-enter the bedroom when suddenly the candles blew out…

(Blackout)

Oh for God’s— (loudly) the moon shone brightly through the windows.

(Lights come up)

Suddenly the windows blew open and started clattering loudly as a mighty wind swept though the hallway. Timothy ran for the door…

TImOTHy. Lucy, unlock the door!

NaRRaTOR. She didn’t… As Timothy stood frozen with fear, a terrible moaning could be heard from the other end of the hallway. The wind grew stronger and the clattering of the windows became a deafening roar. Timothy’s eyes widened as blood-curdling shivers went up and down his spine. Gripped with terror, he stared down the empty hallway, all the while demons toying with his fragile, unsettled soul. Then he heard it. A sound that chilled him to the very core of his being, a sound more terrifying than any that had gone before it, scarier than any moan or scream…what he heard was truly monstrous…the gentle tinkle of a teaspoon against a china cup. His father had arrived. Then without warning his terrifying, ungodly, unspeakably horrific spectre appeared…

(An actor enters covered in a sheet with eyeholes.)

Oh come on! That’s it? That’s the shock? Victorian answer to Shakespeare, they said, relaunch your career, they said. Please. Enough, I’m going.

(He exits.)

GHOST. Timothy.

TImOTHy. Father?

GHOST. Timothy, my son.

TImOTHy. Father, is it you?

GHOST. Of course it’s me, you simpleton, who’d you think it was, the ghost of Christmas past…?

TImOTHy. Well…

GHOST. Shut up, you lily-livered, perfume-wearing pansy, I have something to tell you. Though don’t know what good it’ll do you’re about as helpful as a toenail.

(TImOTHy ’s lip starts to wobble.)

GHOST. Don’t cry, you wimp.

TImOTHy. Why are you being so mean to me, Pa?

GHOST.

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