Memories Of Beaches
Setting: Ocean beach, night, two large towels
Paula: (gets dreamier in tone throughout) I think it's beautiful.
Nuva: (gets more and more frightened throughout) Too scary; we should have left an hour ago.
P: The sand starts cooling down. You can feel it.
N: No, I'd rather not.
P: Hold your hands out, c'mon, Nuva. Feel it.
N: I just want to go.
P: I know, but feel it, the top is cold...
N: Right. Paula, can we please...
P: Underneath, it's hot.
N: I know... I just don't like it out here.
P: As the night goes on, the sand forgets more and more of the sun.
N: Bad things happen....
P: You have to dig deeper and deeper into the sand...
N: No one knows where we are...
P: To find its memory of the sun...
N: Crazy people come out here.
P: Except if you dig too deep, you get to the place that the sun doesn't heat.
N: There aren't even streetlights.
P: So there's a line within the sand, a line that marks where the sand has forgotten the sun and where it never knew.
N: We're sort of trapped in a way.
P: But, I think you can tell which is which, even if they are the same temperature.
N: If we're quiet maybe no one will know we're here.
P: You can always tell where memory has left, and where there's no memory at all.
N: But then we aren't going anywhere.
P: The difference between never and not any more.
N: Which means we're stuck...
P: You face the ocean, the wind shifts at night.
N: So we have to make a run for it.
P: It comes off the land, to the ocean.
N: The wind is at our backs.
P: But the waves still roll forward, into the wind.
N: We'll have to move quickly, attack will come from the ocean.
P: So you smell the land cooling down.
N: Our assailants will always position themselves downwind.
P: But you're too close to the ocean to not smell it.
N: That way they can smell us...
P: I love the smell of the ocean at night.
N: ... but we won't be able to smell them.
P: So much cleaner, crisper.
N: We should run directly into the wind to escape.
P: The animals are sleeping.
N: That way we put as much distance between them and us as fast as we can.
P: It's as quiet as the edge of the ocean can be.
N: What if they have guns!? Ohhh...
P: You can slip into the constant shuffle of waves.
N: One shot, and I'm gone. I'd never hear them over the damn waves.
P: Sleep the night in the sand next to sliding water.
N: They'd probably want to assault me first.
P: Giving your body up to the beach and its memories of the sun, the animals, the people.
N: Especially me.
P: The moon, if you're lucky, the moon shows itself.
N: I'm always attracting... that... kind of attention.
P: Like tonight. Just enough light...
N: Guys rubbing up against me in school, stores...
P: To draw out details...
N: Copping a feel...
P: Not enough to show it all...
N: What are they so excited about?
P: Leaving the mystery of the night in tact.
N: (tone changes for the remainder of the play) I guess I'm good-looking, nice breasts, and all that...
P: You never want to know too much about the night.
N: It's a mystery to me, though...
P: Everyone loves the mystery of it all...
N: I don't like the aggressive ones, but its nice to be looked at.
P: The daylight solves the mysteries of the night.
N: No one can see me at night.
P: (tone changes for the remainder of the play) Then, the mysteries reappear the next night.
N: So maybe we're okay in this dark.
P: The mystery never really disappears.
N: We'll make it.
P: It swallows up everyone.
N: We're strong; we're smart.
P: It alters perceptions.
N: We've done this before, when we were younger.
P: Turns people into feral creatures.
N: We know the people around here.
P: They sniff, howl, and hunt.
N: We've lived here our whole lives.
P: Looking for someone to claim.
N: The beach is like a second home.
P: To drag away in the night.
N: It's nature's doorway to the ocean, to the land.
P: To be locked away, in the ocean, left to die.
N: The night waves pushing one way on the door, the wind pushing the other.
P: Cold. Cold in the dark.
N: Neighbors, friends. One needs the other to live.
P: Can we go now?
P: I'm cold.
N: Want my sweater?
P: No, let's go.
N: Alright. Alright.
(they pick up their stuff, start exiting)
P: It always feels like someone's watching me on the beach.
N: Yeah? I don't mind the attention.
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