Return to my Nest

               Buried              by Heather RaeLynn

Sam: Youth of indeterminate age and gender, scrawny; all of Sam's 
clothes were cheap when new and have now seen a lot of use. Plain 
looking, no accessories. Always carries a worn sketchpad about 8x12 
inches, looseleaf paper scrawled with poetry, and colored pencils.

Younger children playing jump rope and with a ball.
Older person, possibly a sibling or parent of children.

{Actions are given in these Brackets}

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Scene One:

       {Curtain opens, Lights fade in on a local cemetery, early morning. 
There are several grave markers onstage; this part of the cemetery is 
full except for one single plot towards the left.  There are no flowers 
or wreathes visible, and the cemetery is in need of upkeeping. We can 
hear kids playing jump rope unseen off to the right, chanting as they 
jump: "Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt 
me!" Sam enters stage right, walks between the graves, and sits down in 
the empty site, visibly upset. Holds  sketchbook and pencils in one 
hand, a colored picture ripped into halves in the other hand. Stares at 
a torn picture for a few moments as the chant fades away.}

Sam:   Why can't they just leave me alone!

        You just had to share, didn't you? Stupid Jerk. Nobody likes 
anything you do. Why do you even bother?

        {Looks at grave to the right} Nobody liked you, either, right? 
You got a name? {reads} Jamie.  You were born on the same day I was, 
Jamie. Died . . . oh . . . same day.
                
                       {pauses}

        So, Jamie, I'm new here. Want a picture? At least you can't 
say you hate it, too, and say how much I'm a waste, and all that stuff. 
{Places picture, half at a time, colored-side down on Jamie's grave, 
matching the tears together} Here. Sorry it's torn. I was dumb enough 
to show it to someone.

        Everything I share gets wrecked. Everything I don't share gets 
wrecked. Crash! Burn! Boom! Exclamation point!

        Know what, Jamie? I think our lives ended together, but my 
body kept going for some weird reason. Going, going, going, like those 
kids over there. {points right} No reason, just go. Go go go go go go.

        Jump rope. I hated Jump rope. You need co-ordination, I never 
had any. Still don't, I'm just a clumsy stupid freak. {Shows bruised 
knee} Look, Jamie, the table leg bit me.

        You like my picture? Why, thank you. I used to like it. No, 
keep it, keep it. This place needs color. You probably need something 
to look at in there.       

        Besides worms, of course.

        Do you mind if I stay for a while? It's quiet here. Nobody 
yelling at me or at anyone else. Just you and me and the worms.

        {Sam opens the sketchbook and shuffles some papers back into 
it.} I make lots of pictures. Some are of things, some are of nothing. 
I guess they're like me. No meaning or purpose, just there. You've 
got it easy, Jamie, nobody telling you to find a job when they know 
full well that there aren't any, no-one yelling at you , calling you 
names that are true and so they hurt, and hurt bad.

        Nobody goes through your stuff and takes things, reads your 
poems to their friends so that they can all have a good laugh at you, 
and then get mad and scream at you when you tell them that's it's private, 
can't I take a joke?

        Jerks, Jamie, they're all jerks.

        We're the nerds, Jamie. We try to go to school and learn so 
that we can get out of here, and they won't let you escape. We are 
the freaks in the zoo.

       I like you, Jamie, you listen to me.

       So . . . heard any good jokes lately?

       {after a pause} No?

       Well, neither have I.

        You want to see my pictures? Okay. Here's one. . . here's another. 
I was bored, so this one's complicated . . . this ones's nice, it's 
got all the blue colors I have in it . . . 

        {Fade out slowly as Sam keeps talking and showing pictures 
to Jamie's grave.}

               Scene two:

        {Fade in to same set as before, but Jamie's grave now has a few 
scraggly weeds/flowers placed in front, and there are more pictures 
at the grave. The children's voices are heard again, same  chant, sounds 
of a ball game. Sam enters from the right again,  carrying a few more 
weeds/flowers in hand without sketchpad and pencils. Chant fades away.}

Sam:   Hey, Jamie. I brought you more flowers. There you go. 

        {Sam sits} Oomph. 

        There. Long way down. 

        Remember that poem I had yesterday that I was going to write 
down? The really long one that you really liked? Well, I forgot it. 
Totally. So, I wrote this instead.

        Ahem. {Yes, SAY the word!}

        {reads} I was going to write a poem
                which now I have forgot.
                It was enough to fill a tome
                but now my plan is shot.

        So, Jamie, like it? It's kind of short but at least it rhymes. 
I might have to change it. Some street person got shot last night, 
I heard the fighting out on the street. Bang, thud. Know what a body 
sounds like? Thud, like a cloth bag of flour, a big bag, hitting the 
ground. Into a puddle. Turned the water pinkish. I looked this morning 
on my way here.

       They're not going to catch the guy who did it, you know. Drugs, 
street people, cops don't care if you mix the two. Everybody dies.

       I'm hungry. I ate some crackers before I left, all I could find. 
The mouldy parts I threw to the rats.

      {Stares out at Audience, to top back, far away, for almost a minute.}

       Sunrise is pretty today.

       Wish you could see it with me.

       I like the sun better than the moon. Brighter. Harder for . . . No. 
I like the dark better. Hides you easier.

        I wish there was a way to cut off sound like you turn off the 
lights. Click, nobody says anything about you. To you. About you in 
front of you then they laugh, know you're there. Or even when they 
don't know, don't care, don't anything.

        I wish I could join you, Jamie. All quiet, all calm. I could 
do pictures and poems then. Nobody to bug you. Except the worms, making 
dirt out of your guts. Yummy. 

        You're not clumsy if you just lie there in the dirt. Dirt between 
you and the people calling you lazy.

        What, Jamie? My Arm? {looks at large bruise} I got shoved out 
of a store. I was a twit and asked for work. You got to have nice clothes 
and good looks to work anywhere. I don't have either. Ugly. I'm so 
ugly I break mirrors.

        Turn people into stone like that - um - Medalso lady the teacher 
told us about last year. Snakes for hair.  

        {Opens sketchbook. Shows grave a picture of Medusa that Sam 
drew.} See? I'm that ugly. {Looks at picture. Flips to a new page. Draws 
in silence for a minute or so until the Fade out.}

               Scene Three:

        {Fade in to an almost identical scene, the only thing changed 
is 
the wilted weeds/flowers are now a small pile, and the Medusa picture 
is now propped up on top, facing the audience. Sam is still drawing. 
The chanting of the children jumping rope is heard, slowly fades away.}

Sam:  There. {shows picture to grave} See, Jamie? That's what the new 
building looks like so far, like a skeleton. Bigger then yours, though. 
You're kind of small. Insignificant, like me. Two useless specks that 
nobody else likes. Nobody noticed that I left, you know? Now it's 
evening 
again. Nobody cares. Two days, me, you, and the worms.

        Sam and Jamie, alone together.

       We're both buried here. Nobody ever came to visit. Buried. I 
wish I was under the dirt, like you. I'm cold out here. 

Older Voice {from left} : Kids! Come in and wash up! Time to eat!

       {Sam looks offstage left, as we hear the children saying goodbye, 
laughing, footsteps, "I'm coming!", etc. Then all is silent}

Sam:  Cold . . .

                       {Fade out}

Scene Four:

       {Fade in on torn sketchbook, all the pages scattered around 
Jamie's grave. The weed pile is further wilted. Pages of colors and 
poetry littered around most of the stage. The children are playing 
ball, the same chant as always is heard. Sam is nowhere to be seen. 

        Lights remain on for a minute, then fade out}

Scene Five:

        {Fade in. The weeds/flowers are all gone, the graveyard is 
empty of the papers as we hear the children chant and play ball. There 
is a new grave dug and filled in the formerly empty space. No Flowers. 
Stillness for a few moments, then a ball bounces onto the stage from 
the right.}

Child's voice: Hey! You're gonna go get that! I'm not! 

        {A Child runs out from the right, picks up the ball. Better 
dressed than Sam,  cleaner, younger. Walks back, pausing at the new 
grave.}

Child: {interested} Cool. This wasn't here yesterday. {Leans closer 
to read marker, then straightens up and remarks uncaringly} So, Sam, 
what happened to you yesterday? {Runs offstage to right. We hear the 
children resume playing and chanting as the lights fade. "Sticks and 
stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me" is still heard 
for a minute after the Curtain closes.}