Issue 12.1

NON-FICTION

• Daniel Acosta, Memories of a Mexican Boy Growing up in El Paso: A Death in the Alley

• Rebecca Papin, Full Circle

• Hillary Gordon, How To Pick Blueberries When You're Single

PLAYS & SCRIPTS

• Marina Castillo, Crown of the Phoenix

• Jean Noel Ruhland, Snakes

• Claudia Duran, Noche De Boda

• Rebecca Graham Forde, The Birthday Party

BIOGRAPHIES

EDITORIAL TEAM: Angie Barry-Florio, Bill Hicks, Sandra Kourchenko

ADVISOR: Juana Moriel-Payne

Art by Edward Michael Supranowicz

Edward Michael Supranowicz is the grandson of Irish and Russian/Ukrainian immigrants. He grew up on a small farm in Appalachia. He has a grad background in painting and printmaking. Some of his artwork has recently or will soon appear in Fish Food, Streetlight, Another Chicago Magazine, Door Is A Jar, The Phoenix, and The Harvard Advocate. Edward is also a published poet.

NON-FICTION

_____________________________________________________________________

Daniel Acosta, Memories of a Mexican Boy Growing up in El Paso: A Death in the Alley

One weekend my parents were invited by close friends to stay at a cabin in the mountains of New Mexico at the resort town of Ruidoso, which was only a couple of hours away from El Paso. Ángela and Élfida agreed to look after me with my best friend, Ruben. I had on my best clothes, which Nana Cuca told me to wear as a surprise for my parents.

Of course, I got them dirty when I was playing with Ruben. When my parents returned home, I overheard Ángela whispering to my parents that I was a bad boy and disobedient. I was livid and almost cried while they accused me of being rude to them.

“Señora Acosta, Danny es muy travieso y es un moscoso,” Ruben’s grandmother, Ángela, and his aunt, Élfida, outright lied to my mother. I never became fluent in Spanish but loosely translated they said was I mischievous and a brat.

It did not help that Ruben and I often had fights, which these two horrible women remembered and held against me. One day Ruben and I were happy and playing together, the next day we were fighting with each other. We often had dangerous fights with the throwing of rocks at each other--Ruben crouched behind a stone fence surrounding his home, and I hid behind my house for protection because our house did not have a fence.

I became quite adept at throwing rocks high in the sky that fell like bombs over his fence. During one of our rock fights, one rock fell perfectly on the top of Ruben's head, and Ángela demanded that I be punished by my parents.

“Señora Acosta, tienes que castigar Danny immediatamente,” (punish him immediately) Ángela screamed at my mother.

Ruben's head was quite bloody, but nothing serious, like losing an eye. My mother told me to come into the house anytime Ruben and I started fighting. I think she knew that I was not always the troublemaker.

Ángela and Élfida were next-door neighbors to Nana Cuca. Their personalities were completely different than Cuca, who wore colorful clothes and loved to laugh and tease the children. Cuca had a great sense of humor, was fun-loving, and was a very caring woman. The other two women wore dark clothes and stockings with awful looking shoes. They always seemed to be mad at the world.

Their two homes reinforced these differences. Cuca’s house, which was painted a bright white color, had a small front yard with a white picket fence and vines growing on the enclosed screen of the front porch. From her front door we could see the dirt-brown Franklin Mountains looming in the distance. The living room was bright, cheerful, and very clean.

In contrast, Ángela’s house had an open, ugly porch with no front fence and the house was painted pink, which over time had grayed and no longer looked pink. Their backyards were also much different. Cuca’s house had a peach tree and shrubs with patches of grass over the ground, while Angela’s backyard had no trees nor greenery, and the ground was simply dirt and scattered rocks. I vaguely remember that they had some chickens kept in a decrepit shed, and the chickens were let out to eat seeds strown over the ground.

Cuca’s garage blocked the view of their ugly backyard, serving as a dividing line between the two houses.

“Danny, please come on over and play with me,” Ruben would often beg me because they would not let him leave the house.

I would give in and play with Ruben at his house, but not for long because Ángela and Élfida made it clear that I better not mess up the living room and not make any racket while they listened to the radio in Spanish. Ruben and I quietly played cards or board games like Sorry. I liked to be with Ruben, but the house had an unpleasant smell, and the linoleum floor was always grimy and somewhat greasy. Because we sat on the floor to play our games, I left his house with dirty hands and pants.

The alley was rocky and dusty and was dotted with weeds and trash blowing in the wind, with dented silver-colored trash cans behind the houses on each side. I ran behind the garbage trucks when they came once a week to pick up trash, and some of the garbage men often threw me pieces of gum and candy.

“Let’s go,” my father yelled outside the porch.

At least once a week, I would be left alone at home. The family car was a small two-door Chevy coup and could only fit my parents and two sisters comfortably.

They would often go out to eat at Jimmy’s Bar down the street on Piedras. It was one of the few times my mother did not have to cook for the family, and she enjoyed getting out of the house. It was a tight fit for all of us to ride in the car, especially now that my younger sister, Celia, was getting bigger and could no longer sit on my mother’s lap. Tina, my older sister, demanded that she also go out to eat at Jimmy’s Bar for hamburgers and fries. Besides it had a jukebox, and she could listen to some of the songs she liked. Celia was two years younger than me and could not be left alone at the house. It was clear that I had to stay at home and have a cold burger and greasy fries when they returned.

I was told to wait and not leave the house. I was about six years old. During one of their outings, I became worried when I thought that they had been out too long. Although it was getting dark, I quickly put on my shoes and jacket and started to run up the alley to Cuca’s house. But just then I heard loud thunder in the sky and saw lightning in the distance; I felt raindrops and immediately returned home. I was about to cry but through the window of our enclosed porch I saw the family car coming down our rocky driveway. I acted like nothing had happened.

Late one afternoon I had been watching a cowboy movie on TV at Cuca’s house and I had to get home for supper before it became dark. I went out in the ally only when there was daylight. I was scared to be in the alley alone at night because it became pitch black with only some light coming from windows of houses on either side of the alley. As I was running down the alley in the waning few minutes of sunlight, I thought I saw a large bag of garbage in the distance.

As I got closer, I finally realized that it was a person and gasped when I saw that it was Ángela. Her mouth was partially open as if she were trying to yell for help. I quickly ran past her body and told my mother what I saw. I had never seen a real dead person up close, not counting those I saw on TV. Everything became a blur, and I don’t remember how she was taken to the hospital. The neighborhood children were told that she died of old age. All of us kids thought she was a bruja who was evil and mean; I did not play in the alley for several weeks.

I was nine or ten when I saw Ángela lying in the alley. I always wondered why I was not that upset when I found her body in the alley. Maybe it was because I never liked Ángela and Élfida. I consciously avoided being alone with either woman because they openly told me in crude Spanish that I was a spoiled brat. During my grade school years, I was very scared to be around them, much less want talk to them. They seemed to have a permanent scowl on their faces, and I really thought that they were witches.

Ruben and I never talked about the death of Ángela. I never understood how Ruben survived living with them.

After her death, Ruben and I continued to play together and walked to and from school during our grade school years and through the 7th grade. One day a lady came to his house, and I was told by Cuca that the well-dressed woman was his mother, who was living in New Jersey, and was ready to take back her son to live with his true family. We exchanged letters for about a year.

I spent my early childhood playing in the alley and running up and down the alley to get to Nana Cuca’s house. I had good and bad times in the alley. It was my path to be with Cuca and to see Ruben.

_______________________________

Rebecca Papin, Full Circle

When I decided to tell you what you did not know, I felt nervous. Maybe you did not need to know. Maybe you would not care. Or care too deeply. No scenario played out well in my mind so I did the rational thing and called you at two o’clock in the afternoon in the middle of the week on the hottest day of June.

“Are you driving?” I greet you when you answer my call. Such an intimate, random question for someone I haven’t spoken to in twenty-five years.

“No, I’m at home,” you answer, bemused. How we had hated each other once. For ten months in the mid-nineties there was no one I hated more than you.

Why do I want to know if you are driving? Maybe I want your full attention. Maybe I recall how I half-listen when people call me while I’m driving, tossing out yeah, uh huh, I see, focusing on the guy in the next lane not merging into the side of my car.

“I have to tell you something,” I say, running my fingers over the pebbled surface of my extended-stay suite’s living room walls, across the smooth leather surface of the bar stool backs, the cold granite kitchen countertop. My therapist encourages me to ground myself in the moment by appreciating the textures of the things around me. Three should be enough for now.

“I’m kind of nervous,” you admit.

What do you do with knowledge you never wanted? This is knowledge that will haunt you for the rest of your life. By telling you, I will become your ghost, my words will become the breeze running up and down your arms on a still night. I cannot help it. I must become your ghost.

“Your hands,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Might as well get to the heart of the matter. Outside, the heat index is 116 degrees. The smell of baking asphalt rises from the parking lot. But that doesn’t matter. What matters are your hands.

“When we were in eleventh grade, we had Mr. Gilman for Study Hall, remember?” I am forty-two, reborn as a sixteen-year-old in our conversation.

“I remember.”

“You sat two rows over from me, in the fourth seat back, directly across from me and the row between us was always empty.”

Silence. I know you remember.

“One day I looked over and realized you had the most beautiful hands, like a pianist.”

“I hate my hands,” you shoot back. “I always have.” I hear the sixteen-year-old in your voice. You are back in Study Hall with me.

“You had the most beautiful hands,” I repeat, overruling you because I am the authority on this memory, not you. “Did you know my mother abused me in high school?”

“No,” you answer, inhaling sharply. Such a heavy conversation for a sunny afternoon. At least, it is sunny where I am. Maybe it is raining where you are, down in Atlanta.

“Did you know my fa-?” You offer up your own pain on a platter, your heart is carved, diced. I did not know what you had been through until this moment. How could I have known? I hurt for the bully I hated.

“When my mother would hit me, or scream at me, or do any number of horrible things, I would close my eyes and think of your hands. Not in a sexual way, just focusing on how beautiful they were. If there was such beauty in the world, I could make it through the ugliness of these moments.”

“Becky, I-”

Whatever you are saying, I do not hear you. I am standing in my kitchen, sixteen years old, watching my mother attack me and I am thinking of your hands. I am in the corner nearest to the laundry room, watching the back of my mother kick me and punch me against the kitchen counter and I am calm because there is beauty in the world, such beauty. Your hands.

I carry your pain in my heart like a tea stain. Now you carry mine. Maybe our pain cancels each other’s out and we are free.

______________________________

Hillary Gordon, How To Pick Blueberries When You're Single

My husband Daniel had planned the perfect Sunday. He packed a cooler full of snacks and we headed to wine country promptly at 11am. He said he just wanted to drink Rose in the morning sun, and even in my melancholy state, I couldn’t argue with that. The coast was thick with fog when we got onto the mountain road that heads way up and East. He let me pick the music after failing to find something I found listenable. One thing about my husband and I- we don’t like the same music. But we were able to agree on The Gin Blossoms as we left the fog behind us. When we got to the winery, he set up a picnic of cheese and berries, hummus and chocolate that sat on a newly varnished cedar table near the manmade lake that glowed turquoise from the sun growing stronger on the winery property. Our spot overlooked sprawling golden fields dotted with oak trees growing in knots and twists, looking like wrinkled, arthritic hands, reaching up from the dry, but somehow fertile, land of the Santa Ynez Valley. The fog peaked over the mountaintops, but it felt really far away. Daniel poured each of us a glass and told me about the girl he met last night. Another thing about my husband and I - we’re not married. We’re both single.

We once pretended to be married because we thought we could get a better deal on a guitar that Daniel was buying off Craigslist if we if we had a story. If we said we were broke from the wedding. It worked. And it’s worked for us many times since. And not just in a monetary way, but in many, many social situations. Because when you’re on the wrong side of 35, and you’re single, particularly a single woman, you start to make people a little uncomfortable. Lying somehow feels easier than admitting to spinsterhood. Really, I’ll do or say just about anything to not have to hear, “he’s out there,” or “when you stop looking you’ll find him,” or “I had an aunt with no kids, she was cool. She went to Italy!” Calling someone my husband also just feels good. It feels normal. We do it all the time joking, but I think both of us like the way it sounds. Daniel dates more than I do. He is strikingly good looking with light blue eyes and the way he carries himself makes him seem bigger than his 5’11”. He is someone I would definitely swipe right on, and probably be pretty excited about for a few months if we were strangers. But, I know him well enough to know that I am not in love with him. We’ve spent holidays together, taken my grandmother out for Mother’s Day Brunch, traveled together and spent many late nights drinking beer and watching movies. He checks in via text if we haven’t spoken for a few days. If we were going to be in love, we would be.

I am trying hard to enjoy this Sunday with Daniel and not think about what happened yesterday. I put on a long, flowy sundress with daisies on it this morning. When the breeze picks up, my dress flows, and it makes me feel beautiful; which is not an everyday feeling for me. The flattering dress is helping me trudge through the morning a tiny bit. Behind my sunglasses my eyes are burning from lack of sleep, and my stomach is heavy, though I’ve not eaten since yesterday. It takes an enormous amount of effort to listen to Daniel talk, to react appropriately, to smile at his jokes, to make my own. To drink the damn Rose. I finally tell him about the backyard birthday party one of my oldest family friends had for his girlfriend yesterday. How beautiful it looked with white twinkling lights in all the trees and tiny cupcakes on all the tables. How I saw pictures of many friends and family, eating burgers, posing arm in arm. How most of the girls had on flowy sundresses with flowers on them. How I was the only one who wasn’t emailed an invitation, even though the opportunities to be invited were many. I told him how seeing those pictures ached in a way I wasn’t expecting. Almost in a physical way.

“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t personal, he said, sipping his wine. “You know, it was probably a couple’s thing.” I nodded and told him that I’d seen a few of our mutual, and single friends there.

“Men or women?” Daniel asked.

“Men,” I said, rolling my eyes and swirling the wine in my glass.

“There you have it.” he said. “You’re a single woman so you’re a threat to the new girl. Don’t take it personally.” My face reddened as I tilted the glass and finished off the syrupy wine.

“Even if Our friendship has been nothing but platonic for a million years?” I asked. “Yes,” he said, “doesn’t matter. They’ll invite you again once you have a steady man in your life.” I sighed and told him I hadn’t felt this sad since my last broken heart. “It almost feels like a breakup,” I said. “This sort of rejection. At this age, you think you know who your friends are.”

“Doesn’t compare,” Daniel said, recently going through his own breakup. “You just don’t remember because you’ve been single for so long.”

And I have been. Most of my life actually. In my adult life I’ve had two men tell me they were in love with me. I loved neither back, and not for lack of trying. Conversely, I have been absurdly, hopelessly and helplessly in love twice in my life. Though both men I loved have kissed me strong and deep, and both claimed to very much love me, one said, “just not like that,” and the other said, “just as best friends.” Both are married to other women now, and if social media holds any thread of truth, both are very happy in those marriages, which kind of sucks. I’ve had long-term almost-relationships, friends with benefits, and had one man, after two years of on-again, off-again flings, say to me, on Valentine’s Day nonetheless, “I’m attracted to you, the sex is great, I like your personality, but I just don’t love you. I wish I could.” And even though that hurt like hell, I understood. One thing that man did love, without question, was the drink. And he wasn’t the first man in my life to kiss me only after he kissed a bottle or three. So as circumstance (or as my psych major friends would say, something else altogether) would have it, I have been unlucky in love. And it’s not getting any easier. The older and softer I’m getting around the edges, the fewer and fewer men approach me. While Daniel’s graying hair is a turn on for girls of all ages, my emerging crow’s feet seem to work as a warning sign: “biological clock ticking.” It’s not false advertising.

Last weekend Daniel and I were eating hamburgers by the beach. There was a Chinese family sitting next to us with a baby girl who kept offering me french fries from their wooden table. I winked at her and waved at her and she cooed, and I felt an ache deep in my stomach. Daniel, who had spent a semester in China, tested out his Chinese on her. “Oh, no,” the mother, who is younger than us said, “we’re American, don’t speak any Chinese.” It was Saturday and there were people everywhere, the sun slowly sinking behind the water, getting ready to turn our day into a Saturday night.

“What I’m scared of,” Daniel told me, chewing his lettuce- burger, not looking toward me or the attractive family next to us, “is getting desperate to the point where I meet a girl who likes 75% of me, but we’re both so scared and so far behind, we get married and have kids, and five years later she hates 100% of me.” I nodded and moved the french fries around on my plate. “Maybe that’s why we’re still single,” I said. “Maybe a lot of people settle for 75%?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe there is something fundamentally flawed in us.”

“Maybe,” I said and changed the subject.

I thought back on this meal as I finished my third glass of wine. By now the wine had helped my mood a bit, helped to shallow the sadness that had felt so deep just hours before. I began to get sunburned and Daniel said he couldn’t drink another drop of wine and still drive. So, he told me, the next stop on this perfect Sunday, would be Gaviota State Beach. Weeks before, I made him watch my favorite movie. A film called Sideways about two best friends taking a trip to the Santa Barbara wine country for a bachelor party. I told him how much I related to Miles, the main character who was unlucky in career and love. Even though Daniel had hated the movie, and told me I’m nothing at all like Miles, he agreed that the scene at Gaviota State beach under a steel railroad bridge was beautiful. I had told Daniel that even though I lived only thirty minutes away, and even though that was my favorite scene from my favorite movie, I’d never seen the bridge in person. He then told me he’d saved extra snacks from the winery, so we could finish them off and watch the sunset on the beach under the bridge. “How are you single?” I asked. He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m working on it.”

“Are you going to leave me when you start dating someone?” I asked.

He put his arm around my shoulder, “I’ll never leave you,” he said. “Happy wife, happy life.”

I nodded my head. “Good answer. I hope your 2nd wife agrees and still allows you to invite me to barbecues.”

“Me too.”

“Hey!” I said, hoisting myself into his truck, “no Red Hot Chili Peppers when we’re sitting under the bridge,”

“What!? Why? They’re like the best band of the 90s!”

“Ugh,” I said, smiling a tiny bit, “I want a divorce.”

We’d been on the freeway for about twenty minutes when Daniel pulled off the 101. “I have a surprise for you!” he said. I looked up to see little, wooden shack off the side of the 101 freeway as we pulled up and parked in front of it. Painted in cursive, a sign above the shack read “blueberry picking.” Daniel said, “Something that I think will bring you back to your East- Coast farming days,” with a perfect smile on his face.

A few years earlier, much to Daniel’s annoyance, I had moved from California to New York for a dream job I couldn’t turn down, even if it was 3,000 miles away. I was going to be the program director for a well-known widely-syndicated radio show. The job held clout. This was the job I’d dreamed of since high school and I had worked long hours and hard days for shit pay my whole life, just for an opportunity like this. I was at a friend’s kid’s birthday party at the zoo when I told everyone I was leaving. It was that weird week between Christmas and New Year’s where everything feels slow. No one is really working, and everyone is just awaiting the new year and for life to get back to normal. It was unusually cold for the California coast, even for December. The children lined up, their cheeks rosy from the wind, and held a giant boa constrictor with the help of a Zookeeper. All the parents had their cameras out, oohing and ahhing at the serpent who could swallow their kids whole if it really wanted to. The air was thick with holiday stagnation and the smell of elephants. “Makes sense,” my friend said to me. “I mean if you’re our age and still single, what else is there to do but leave?” I was 29. At 32 I sat at her wedding. When it was time for the couple’s dance, every person in that room left their table and headed to the dance floor. Every. Person. I looked around the room, my face reddening, my whole being shrinking as I sat alone in the giant hall. It felt like all the walls were laughing at me.

“How is this even possible? I asked my coworker sitting across from me with his wife. “How am I the ONLY single person in a room of 200 people?

“201” he said with a laugh. Then he put his hand on my arm and said “we aren’t gonna do this. We’re not leaving you here alone. We hate this dance anyway.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”

Two weeks ago, I sat at that bride’s Malibu country club baby shower among fifty other women all around my age. Some cradling babies, others talking about their pregnancies and school districts and diapers. I sipped on a coconut La Croix and nodded my head, wishing I had anything to add to the conversation. I looked up to the sky, looked out to the ocean, hoping to see a dolphin or a boat, or anything to distract me. I decided on a seagull and watched it float up and down over the waves. I looked down at the Olympic size pool and watched wealthy, white families sunbathing and splashing. My pregnant friend, who is younger than me by two days, really looked beautiful in a long, yellow dress with growing twin boys in her belly, her coffee-black hair thicker and longer than I’d ever seen it. And her handsome husband, oh, her handsome husband, was wiping his wispy ash- blonde hair with one hand, his other hand gently resting on her perfect baby bump. Like her growing belly was made for his big hand to rest on, biology in motion. “I’m so excited for her,” her former coworker said, “for what she’s about to feel. I didn’t know what love was until I had my boy.”

“Exactly,” her cousin chimed in. “I don’t know what I was doing with my life before I got pregnant. Looking back, it was all so meaningless.” I finished off my La Croix and went back to looking for that seagull.

When we got out of Daniel’s truck and went into the little, blueberry shack, the woman said “we close in thirty minutes. You guys are late. Might not be a lot of berries left.” Daniel bought two small tin buckets anyway, and we went out into the fields and hunted for berries. We decided to start at the back toward the oak-tree spotted mountain the blueberry crops ran into, “maybe there’s some good ones no one has picked yet,” he said, “or some that may have been overlooked.” We linked arms and searched for good berries. “She was right,” I said, “we’re a little late.” But, because we paid and because we were determined to eat blueberries under the steel bridge at Gaviota, we kept picking. Hoping for a ripe blueberry among the many green ones we filled our buckets with. When our thirty minutes were up, we combined the blueberries and drove to the beach.

We sat under the big steel bridge as train after train zipped by above us, the calm grey ocean behind it. I tried to take pictures of the train and the sunset but couldn’t get it quite right on my iPhone. I gave up and sat down to eat the leftover hummus and chocolate and our picked blueberries. Daniel threw hand fulls in his mouth while I carefully picked out the ripe ones, which were quickly running out.

“I don’t know how you can eat the green ones,” I said. “They’re sour and gross.”

He shrugged, “better than no blueberries at all, I guess.” We separated out the green from the blue into piles and I began to throw the green ones to the eager seagulls. Daniel picked up two out of the blue pile and held them over his eyes, looked at me and said “take a picture of this!”

“You’re not too far off,” I said. “Your eyes are actually prettier than those.”

“Yours aren’t too bad either.”

“With my blue eyes,” I said, “And with yours, I feel like that’s what our kid’s eyes would look like, little blue-eyed monsters.”

“We would have beautiful babies,” he said. And just for a minute I entertain the idea.

“Maybe we should do it?” I said. “I mean we’ve faked the marriage thing, maybe we should just do it and have beautiful blueberry-eyed babies. I mean if we have a crying baby, it could drown out your shitty music. And, I mean, I could live with shitty music.” Daniel held the blueberries for a few moments longer. I could tell I had him, that he was thinking about it, too. I held my breath. He took the blueberries from his eyes, threw them up in the air and caught them in his mouth.

“I don’t want you to ever 100% hate me” he said. I nodded my head, knowing his mind was made up.

“Happy wife, happy life,” I said.

He put his arm around me and we watched the trains speed by us.

PLAYS & SCRIPTS

_____________________________________________________________________

Marina Castillo, Crown of the Phoenix

EXT. THE GREAT CITY OF AURO - NIGHT

The capital city of Auro is under siege.

AUREN SOLDIERS in silver armor caked with mud battle the BLACK GUARD, invading forces whose armor holds its shine and strength against every sword swing and arrow. The masks of their black helmets shield their faces, and strain and fatigue are the only features notable on any Auren fighter.

Where one Auren soldier finally advances with a spear in the enemy’s throat, ten others are pelted in their backs with arrows until limp bodies plummet over the battlements to the town below.

TOWNSPEOPLE flee the city in terror, dodging bodies falling from above. BASTIAN (6) cowers behind barrels on the side of a house. He watches the scene and a body smacking the earth in front of him sends the boy sprinting through the chaos.

Six SHADOW WYVERNS, dragon-like creatures, flap through the air calling claps of thunder with their sprawling wings. Their impenetrable scales reflect the flames of the burning city.

Three wyverns circle the city perimeter, taking out legions with sharp talons and teeth while the others aim for the towers and architecture of the city. Each takes a turn clawing and pushing at the stone until structures tumble.

As townspeople dodge falling debris, a massive pile of stone lands near Bastian, forcing him to switch directions, stopping at the sight of TWO BODIES lying over each other.

He throws himself over his dead parents. A wyvern lands in front of him and ROARS. Bastian screams back in tears.

INT. CASTLE BED CHAMBER - NIGHT

QUEEN LEANNA (late 20s) hunches over her bed frame, holding her swollen belly, and screams. Her hair hangs loose into her face as she claws at the skirt of her white nightgown. Corrine (late 20s), dressed in battle armor, kneels to ease the baby out.

CORRINE

She’s almost here! Once more! Push!

Leanna’s screams reverberate through the walls of the castle.

INT. CASTLE THRONE ROOM - NIGHT

The pristine throne room is empty save for a great stone chair with molded glass fanning out on either side, like feathered wings. The glass glitters with the reflecting light from the chandelier above as if on fire. And two men fight for their right to sit on it.

KING ERIS (early 30s) lacks the armor necessary for a fight to the death, but despite his leather vest, cotton sleeves, and warn boots, he does not hesitate to clash swords with his brother, LORD SAERUS (late 20s), in onyx armor lined with blue.

ERIS

Saerus, your ambition blinds you! I beg you - see reason.

SAERUS

My visions are clear. I only see your refusal to embrace change, a new order. That is what this realm needs. That is what you have failed to give our people.

Leanna screams again.

SAERUS (CONT’D)

You’ll have an heir soon, brother. Shame that the baby can’t be a part of her uncle’s glorious new world.

The two brothers fight with strength and skill developed over years of training on and off the battlefield.

INT. CASTLE HALLS - NIGHT

Two BLACK GUARDSMEN stalk through the halls to Leanna’s bedchamber, swords in hand.

INT. CASTLE BED CHAMBER - NIGHT

Leanna lets out one last shriek. Corrine guides the baby and wraps her in a blanket to clean her off. Leanna drags herself to the bed and falls onto the mattress, exhausted.

Corrine hands the baby to Leanna.

LEANNA

She’s beautiful.

Corrine is on guard and uneasy as Leanna admires the child with tears in her eyes.

CORRINE

My queen, they’re coming.

Leanna kisses the child on her forehead and quickly wipes away her tears.

LEANNA

Take her.

Leanna hands the baby over, but Corrine hesitates.

CORRINE

I’m sorry, Leanna.

LEANNA

We all have a role to play.

Before Corrine leaves with the child, Leanna gives the baby one last kiss.

LEANNA (CONT’D)

Be brave, my girl. And when the time comes... rise.

Corrine embraces her friend goodbye, allowing only one sob to escape her chest before she and the baby leave through a hidden passageway behind a wall.

Once the wall has closed, Leanna reaches for the small vial on the bedside table.

INT. CASTLE THRONE ROOM - NIGHT

Eris takes an enormous hit from the hilt of Saerus’s sword, sending him stumbling backward. He does not give up.

Saerus strikes again, gaining leverage.

ERIS

You will always be a pawn, brother.

Saerus smirks.

SAERUS

Look around you!

EXT. THE GREAT CITY OF AURO - NIGHT

The city burns as Eris’s soldiers surrender.

SAERUS (O.S)

Your armies have fallen. Your people have surrendered to ME.

Find GENERAL DARREN (early 30s) fighting through the onslaught, shouting orders to his soldiers to evacuate the city’s survivors. He sees young Bastian sitting between his parents, screaming into the beast’s face.

Darren watches with curiosity as the wyvern pauses his roar to Bastian’s shouts. The beast cocks its head to the side, considering the boy. Auren soldiers take the opportunity to launch arrows at the beast. Most splinter off the wyvern’s wings, but others hit their marks and get lodged under the scaled armor. The wyvern cries and shoots into the air, disappearing behind dark storm clouds.

Darren runs over, scoops the boy up in his arms, and puts him in a wagon heading out of the city. Darren mounts a horse and leads the caravan out.

SAERUS (O.S.) (CONT’D)

Those who choose to fight will be hunted and killed.

Townspeople and soldiers lie dead in the city streets. Buildings collapsed, absolute devastation.

INT. CASTLE THRONE ROOM - NIGHT

Eris pants with exhaustion but jeers. There’s sadness in his eyes.

ERIS

As always... you are misguided.

INT. CASTLE BED CHAMBER - NIGHT

The Black Guardsmen burst through the door and find Leanna’s body in the bed, her belly still swollen from childbirth. The vial she drank from is shattered on the floor; her eyes stare at nothing. Dead.

INT. CASTLE HIDDEN CORRIDOR - NIGHT

Corrine moves quickly through the corridor holding the sleeping baby in her arms.

ERIS (O.S.)

Rymira will rise again.

INT. CASTLE THRONE ROOM - NIGHT

ERIS

And when she does, you will burn.

Pure rage takes over, and Saerus knocks Eris to the ground for the last time. He raises his sword with two hands and swings down, severing Eris’s head from his body.

Saerus stands there panting from the fight and several injuries. He walks over to his brother’s head, takes the crown and settles it on his own, and makes his way to the throne.

Shadows from Saerus spread across the throne room casting it in a dull light. Black Guardsmen burst into the room, coming to a stop at the dais.

BLACK GUARD

My King.

They hesitate, unsure how to break the news to him. Saerus pulls down the banner of the Great Phoenix (Eris’s colors) and takes a seat on his throne.

SAERUS

Spit it out.

BLACK GAURD

The baby... she’s escaped.

Saurus’s anger flairs; his shadows reach out for the guards. Their screams are heard through the castle and beyond the city.

EXT. THE GREAT CITY OF AURO

Corrine and the baby flee on horseback through the city gates. Corrine takes one last look at her demolished home before flying into the cover of the forest.

BLACK.

EXT. GREAT PEAKS MOUNTAIN ROAD - MORNING - TWENTY YEARS LATER

An armed RIDER, gallops up the Mountain Road. He winds through the sharp turns designed to confuse those who don’t know what to look for. He slows his horse to a trot, stopping in front of a waterfall.

After checking if it’s clear, he mutters an OLD, FORGOTTEN LANGUAGE under his breath; the water parts, and the rider disappears behind the waterfall.

He reappears on a different road leading to the village of Luminia, magically hidden within the three Great Peaks.

EXT. LUMINIA VILLAGE GATE - DAY

The rider arrives at the city gates and hands a letter to a GUARD. The guard takes off down the road.

EXT. VILLAGE CENTER - MORNING

Luminia is surrounded by tall peaks and green hills, cutting it off from the outside realm. Its people live safely within the perimeter of sprawling hills and vast forests.

The guard walks through the hub, past VILLAGERS going about their morning routines, setting up their vendor stalls for a market, and fussing about the village when expecting company.

INT. COMMANDER CHAMBERS - MORNING

Corrine (older) works at her desk.

ATTENDANT

Here’s the new list of supplies, Commander.

Corrine takes the list and overlooks it. The room is full of ATTENDANTS, all working on their tasks. DOMINIKA (20), a novice Luminian Warrior, is one of them.

Two attendants come into the room with cases of wine bottles.

CORRINE

Make sure no one touches that wine until tonight.

The attendants nod. The guard enters.

GUARD

Excuse me, Commander. A letter has arrived for you.

Corrine reads it. The slight clenching of her jaw is the only tell that the letter’s content is upsetting.

CORRINE

Visitors. All of you, out. Tell the others to suit up and meet at the gate.

(to the guardsman)

Send a party past the parameter to fetch them.

Dominika. Find Asha. Bring her to me.

Dominika bows her head, following the rest of the attendants out.

EXT. ABOVE LUMINIA - MORNING

ASHA (19) climbs the side of the mountain. The slope is steep, but she’s enjoying the challenge.

ASHA

(calling downwards)

Kai, come on! We’re almost there.

KAI (20) is a little behind and panting.

KAI

I’m coming.

Asha continues forward, stopping at a ledge overlooking the city below and the world beyond. With the early morning sun, the scene is beautiful.

KAI (CONT’D)

Asha, the Rites are tomorrow. We need to be conserving our-

A rock comes free from under Kai’s foot, sliding off the edge. He expertly regains his footing and catches the ledge with one hand. Asha helps him up.

ASHA

(giggling)

Are you okay?

KAI

(dusting himself off)

Great. Yeah, I’m glad my almost death amuses you.

He looks at the scenery and then at Asha. Asha’s eyes are closed, taking it all in. There’s admiration in his eyes and love.

KAI (CONT’D)

Well, at least the view is worth it.

ASHA

I told you.

DOMINIKA (O.S.)

ASHA!

Dominika calls Asha from a ledge further down, interrupting the moment for Kai.

DOMINIKA (CONT’D)

Your mother wants to see you!

Asha’s eyes stay closed, and she takes a deep breath of morning air.

ASHA

I’M BASKING!!

DOMINIKA

Stop acting like a princess! Let’s go! We have company!

Asha opens her eyes as she and Kai make the same realizations. Drums BOOM. The sound bounces off the stone walls. Visitors have arrived.

ASHA KAI

The Rym. The Rym.

They head down in excitement.

EXT. VILLAGE HUB - DAY

LUMINIAN WARRIORS, arranged in lines in front of the Commander’s chambers, are dressed in fighting leathers and standing at attention, faces of stone.

Two blades are crossed behind each of their backs as two more daggers sit strapped to each of their legs.

Commander Corrine stands at the center with Asha by her side, but she has no weapons, marking Asha as a novice. The other novices, including Dominika and Kai, stand in a group behind the other warriors.

THE RYM, rebel forces still fighting in the name of the dead King Eris, enters through the city gates.

General Darren (now older) leads their arrival. Bastian (grown as well) rides next to him.

Asha watches this intently as the party parades to a stop at the city’s center. Darren and Bastian dismount their horses and walk to where Corrine stands. The two men bow their heads and put one fist to their chest, a sign of respect for the commander of Luminia.

Corrine leads them inside the chamber. The crowd slowly disperses, welcoming the rest of the party.

INT. COUNCIL CHAMBER - DAY

The group continues inside. Corrine takes her spot in front of her desk, pouring Darren a drink.

CORRINE

It’s been a long time since your last visit, Lord Darren.

DARREN

I’ll cut to the chase, then. We need your help, Commander.

CORRINE

I don’t know what more you want from me. We send supplies; we help in any way we can.

DARREN

We need soldiers, Corrine. You know that.

Asha sinks into a wall off to the side, listening keenly.

DARREN (CONT’D)

Our last raid failed. We lost almost all of the soldiers who went in and -

CORRINE

General, I’m very sorry but I can’t spare any of my warriors. I have my people to protect.

DARREN

Corrine, we lost Jasper.

Corrine considers. Asha’s eyes dart from her mother to the General, clearly missing something.

CORRINE

Then your fight is over.

Darren’s anger rises. Bastian fails at holding his tongue.

BASTIAN

But you need-

CORRINE

If the last living kin of Eris is dead, young Bastian, you have no chance, no leverage. I’m sorry, but I don’t NEED to do anything. You will not bring my people down with you.

BASTIAN

He is not dead. Saerus would never be stupid enough to kill him. The people still love Eris.

CORRINE

(smug to Bastian)

A rescue mission, then?

She looks away from him in a silent, defining dismissal.

CORRINE (CONT’D)

I wish you luck, General. And I will provide any SUPPLIES you need. That is all.

Darren has heard enough.

DARREN

Leanna would be heartbroken to hear this.

Corrine’s jaw clenches again. Asha is the only one to notice her mother’s tell.

CORRINE

You may stay for a few days to rest and regroup. After that, you can take any who volunteer for your cause.

Darren nods to the compromise.

CORRINE (CONT’D)

And General, do not call on the Luminian again.

_______________________________

Jean Noel Ruhland, Snakes

SNAKES

(or: INSIDE EXPLOSION)

Written by

Jean Noel Ruhland

Based on: life

ii.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

BEA, F, the patient

THE DOCTOR, M

NURSE GLORIA - F

BRICK, M, Bea’s husband (he's built like a brick wall)

MS. GERMENE/BILLING - F

SETTING: A HOSPITAL ROOM, door to it is Stage Left, we can see a bit of the hallway. There is lighting to illude to a glass divider (force-field type) just past the door that everyone except for the family member seems to not even notice. Not yet illuminated is a giant hamster wheel Stage Right sitting by a window to the outside world.

SCENE 1 - SHOCK

BEA appears to be asleep as the NURSE checks her vitals.

NURSE GLORIA

Wakey. Wakey.

BEA stirs a bit.

NURSE GLORIA (CONT’D)

Well, there you are darlin. You were in there pretty deep.

BEA

One of the best things about a Colonoscopy. I finally get some rest. How’d it go?

NURSE GLORIA

The doctor will be in shortly. You hungry? Here are some crackers and an apple juice. Take it easy on your tummy for now. No spicy food. Might burn. While you wait, would you be interested in helping us out? We’re doing some medical studies.

BEA

Uh, can I think about it?

She’s in a bit of a haze.

NURSE GLORIA

I’ll be right back with those forms for the medical studies.

Nurse exits and lighting flickers in the doorway. Bea eats and waits for what seems like forever, the beeps of the machines are monotonous. The doctor enters.

DOCTOR

Hi there. How you feeling?

BEA

Well rested.

DOCTOR

Ha! Well, your insides might feel tender for awhile.

BEA

Why am I hooked up to all these machines?

DOCTOR

I’m afraid we found a snake in your intestines.

BEA

I’m sorry. What?

DOCTOR

No, I’m sorry. We found a snake in your intestines.

BEA

What the ...? Are you serious?

DOCTOR

I’m not allowed to joke. About such matters anyway.

BEA

Who are you?

DOCTOR

I’m your doctor, don’t you remember me?

BEA

Doctor who?

DOCTOR

No, Doctor Ruben.

BEA

Funny. What did you say about a snake?

DOCTOR

We were able to remove it with minimal damage, but we need to keep you here. Under observation. I’ve ordered some tests. We need to make sure we got it all out.

BEA

I’m sorry. You’re afraid? You just made me afraid. What the hell is going on!? I don’t believe you! I want a second opinion.

DOCTOR

We already removed it. What do you want a second opinion about exactly?

BEA

Did you take a video? Do you have the snake in a jar?! For crying out loud! I need proof. Did anyone bother to take an x-ray or sonogram or whatever will show me that you actually had to do this.

DOCTOR

We didn’t think we would need to.

BEA

Why bloody not?

DOCTOR

Most people just believe us.

BEA

Most people aren’t diagnosed with snakes in their insides.

DOCTOR

Yes, well, nothing to be alarmed about just yet. Let’s see what comes of the test results. Do you have any questions?

BEA

Many, but I bet none that you can answer. This is ridiculous. Bring me the snake in a jar and a video of you removing it.

DOCTOR

I can’t do that. We had to destroy it.

BEA

What?! Did someone call my husband yet?

Doctor gets up to leave.

BEA (CONT’D)

Wait, didn’t I just come in here for a colonoscopy? I mean, I know I had gurgling in my belly, but this is a bit much.

DOCTOR

Agreed. But. Well. There’s really nothing more I can say until we get the test results back.

Doctor leaves.

BEA

Useless. Stupid. I don’t understand.

BEA waits a ridiculous amount of time again until...

NURSE GLORIA hurries into the room, passes the BEA without saying a word, climbs into the hamster wheel which gets illuminated Stage Right and begins to peddle/jog while seemingly looking at digital screens.

BEA waits.

BEA (CONT’D)

(Coughs)

NURSE GLORIA

(Sneezes)

BEA

Bless you.

NURSE GLORIA

Thank you.

BEA

Are you sure you are in the right room? This is not the gym.

NURSE GLORIA

Yes. I’m just looking at your chart, dear.

She climbs out and goes to take BEA’S pulse by hand.

BEA

Oh, no thank you. You sneezed.

NURSE GLORIA

I’m sorry hun. Just allergies. I’m your nurse. Name’s Gloria. Remember?

BEA

Allergies? What’s there to be allergic to in a hospital?

NURSE GLORIA

All sorts of things. You name it, I’m allergic to it.

She goes around checking all the machines attached to the BEA and logging in the stats while they talk.

BEA

Okay. Have they found out what’s wrong with me?

NURSE GLORIA

They who?

BEA

Um. The doctor, was just here. Said I had a snake. I mean I’m a very clean person, I don’t know where I would have gotten a snake from, let alone inside of me. The doctor is supposed to be bringing me evidence.

NURSE climbs back into hamster wheel and jogs.

BEA (CONT’D)

Could you stop doing that and just help me. Please.

NURSE GLORIA

No Hunny. This is how I log my hours. I don’t run in here, I don’t get paid. This is the real work.

BEA

Well that sounds like utter crap.

NURSE stops for a minute and stares at BEA.

BEA (CONT’D)

I’m sorry. You don’t like swearing. You have to understand how I’m feeling right now. I came in for what they call a simple procedure and now I’m strapped to this bed and have to just believe that you found a snake in my belly. Kind of unbelievable don’t you think.

NURSE GLORIA starts jogging again.

NURSE GLORIA

Nothing surprises me anymore.

BEA

That’s sad. Would you please give me proof!

NURSE GLORIA

Here, I can show you your X-ray. Doctor wanted to take a picture of it because this has never been seen before. Don’t worry, it won’t end up on the internet.

NURSE GLORIA shows a hologram of the X-ray (could be done via a scrim with a projector or as a photo that gets shown on the upstage wall while BEA imagines seeing it.

BEA

So I’m famous now huh? How do I know that’s mine and not someone else’s? Or that it’s not photoshopped?

NURSE GLORIA

Couldn’t you feel that you had a snake in your intestine? If you’re really honest with yourself, hun, you’ll admit it.

BEA

No. I’ve never had anything wrong with me before. I came in here for this stupid colonoscopy because I’m of the age that one is supposed to get one. I’ve always been healthy. There’s no way this is me.

NURSE GLORIA climbs out of wheel.

NURSE GLORIA

I’m sorry hun, but it’s true. I was there and saw it with my own eyes. You’re just going to have to believe me. We saved your life.

BEA

Thanks.

NURSE GLORIA

Now, I’m going to have to get some fecal matter from you. Do you think you can go number two? Even just a little bit? I’ll put this pan under you.

BEA

There’s no bathroom in here?

NURSE GLORIA

We weren’t sure you could afford one of the master suites. Billing is checking on it.

NURSE GLORIA places the pan under BEA.

NURSE GLORIA (CONT’D)

Now don’t strain.

BEA

This is so weird. What’s your name again?

NURSE GLORIA

Gloria. And you’re Patience?

BEA

No! Dear heavens! You have the wrong person. Get that stupid pan out from under me and check the charts.

NURSE GLORIA

I’m so sorry, hun. That was my attempt at humor. Sometimes it helps a person relax.

BEA

I’ll never go now. What is the name you have on the chart?

NURSE GLORIA

Beatrix.

BEA

Damn it. That is me. Oh, sorry, I’ll try not to swear. I guess we’re in this together now.

NURSE GLORIA

Or until my shift ends. I’m kiddin’ hun. I didn’t get into this job just for shits and giggles. See, I can swear too. They’re gonna dock my pay for that, but I need you to know I’m on your side.

BEA

Which side is that?

NURSE GLORIA

The healing side.

BEA

Isn’t everyone in the hospital here to heal us?

NURSE GLORIA

Why, yes, of course hunny.

BEA

Bea.

NURSE GLORIA

What? No, it was a snake. Are you okay?

BEA

No, I like to go by Bea, not hunny. And no, I’m not okay. I’m in a hospital. Can I call someone?

We hear a sound like BEA has eliminated something into the bed pan with a “ting”. There is a slither sound as lights fade.

SCENE 2 - DENIAL

BEA lays in bed staring at the ceiling. NURSE GLORIA enters.

NURSE GLORIA

Here are those medical studies I was telling you about. You could really help us out while you’re here. Who knows who else could benefit from you letting us try a few things out.

BEA

Uh-hun.

NURSE GLORIA

Would you like to read them over.

BEA

Just put them down. I’ll get to them when I can.

NURSE GLORIA

When you can? You got a hot date? Where you going?

BEA

I’m just tired is all.

NURSE GLORIA

I’ll let you rest a bit more. The doctor will be doing rounds shortly. You mind if he brings some students?

BEA

Yes. Yes, I do mind.

NURSE GLORIA

Never you mind then. I’ll tell them to buzz off.

NURSE GLORIA leaves.

BEA gets up from her hospital bed, searches for her clothing, gives up the search and tries to leave. The “invisible force field” stops her.

BEA

What the...?

She keeps trying, starts crying, goes over to the window, peers out, spins the hamster wheel, beeps go off and she hurries to get back in bed.

BRICK arrives, tries to enter the room and gets bounced back by the force field.

BRICK

Bea? I’m here. What is this?

BEA

Nothing. I’m fine.

BRICK

Why can’t I come in.

BEA

I don’t know.

BRICK

There are some things I need to tell you.

BEA

You can tell me from out there.

BRICK

No, I can’t.

Lights down.

SCENE 3 - GUILT

Lights up on BEA running in place, the machines attached to her are going faster like her heart rate is up etc.

DOCTOR enters.

DOCTOR

Oh good, looks like you’re taking this very seriously. How long have you been running for?

BEA

Since morning. Nurse, Gloria, came in after breakfast and told me to jog here until she returned. Said my muscles would atrophy if I didn’t. Where’s my husband?

DOCTOR

Good. Good.

DOCTOR goes to leave.

BEA

Doctor? What does atrophy mean? How scared of it should I be? I mean, I thought I just had a snake in my intestines and now it sounds like something is attacking my muscles. Is that a kind of snake or do I have some other kind of critter to worry about?

DOCTOR comes back and climbs into hamster wheel which illuminates. DR. jogs and looks at imaginary computer screens.

DOCTOR

Oh! Haha! No, atrophy means that your muscles would wither if you just laid in bed all day. We want to get you out of here as soon as possible.

BEA

Logging your hours, hey?

DOCTOR

No, I just like it in here. I get paid no matter what.

BEA

It’s noon and I haven’t seen the nurse since she told me to do this. Do you think she forgot about me? Can I stop?

DOCTOR

Yes. Of course.

BEA passes out, DOCTOR drags her to her bed. Bea wakes.

BEA

What just happened?

DOCTOR

You fainted.

BEA

What? Why? What did you do?

DOCTOR

I helped you. I helped you to your bed.

BEA

This place is so messed up.

DOCTOR

We’re doing the best we can do.

____________________________

Claudia Duran, Noche De Boda

SETTING:

A Bar Late at Night - Post Wedding.

CHARACTERS:

A Groom – Gender Open, Latino/a/x A

Maid of Honor – Gender Open, Latino/a/x

NOTE to DIRECTOR:

Please Feel Free to Play these Characters Free of Gender

Two friends sit obviously drunk at the end of a long night. Groom sports a fancy tuxedo and a fresh wedding band. MAID OF HONOR wears loud easter egg colors.

GROOM

Wow. What a night.

MAID OF HONOR

It was so… beautiful.

GROOM

Thanks for being here. It meant a lot to Ceci… and it meant a lot to me.

MAID OF HONOR

Are you kidding? It took you guys long enough! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

GROOM

Shut up foo’.

MAID OF HONOR

Seriously you two took forever to tie the knot!

GROOM

That’s just ‘cause we had to grow up a bit primero.

MAID OF HONOR

Welcome to thirty. Where societal pressures say grow the fuck up already!

They laugh and drink some more.

GROOM

Seriously though, I’m happy you made it.

MAID OF HONOR

You’re my bestest friend. Another toast to you y La Ceci!

GROOM

Yeah but you’re her “maid-of-honor”…

They toast and drink even more.

GROOM CONT’D

Shit, if it weren’t for her we would’ve never hung out. Remember how we used to talk. We’d go for walks toda la noche talking about God, the Universe, Mankind-

MAID OF HONOR

- The meaning of life.

GROOM

Yeah. We’d stay up all night and solve the problems of the world. Ceci would just sleep by 9:30. (Beat) Even now, I can’t do that she’s so…aye well you know how she is, la quiero mucho pero –

MAID OF HONOR

- She goes to bed by 9 and she’s bored to death by anything philosophical, hypothetical, or theoretical.

GROOM/MAID OF HONOR TOGETHER

“If it doesn’t concern me why should I care?!”

MAID OF HONOR

She’s probably already up in the bridal suite snoring away.

They laugh.

GROOM

Yeah. (Beat) Now I’m gonna spend 40 years with a person I can’t talk to past 9.

MAID OF HONOR

But you need that, someone who can keep you in line. Shit, don’t worry aye otras cosas que puedes hacer past 9 that don’t involve “talking”.

GROOM

Amen to that!

MAID OF HONOR

Thank god!

They toast yet again and are wasted.

GROOM

Hey, do you remember esa noche we went back to your place… the night you licked honey off of my-

MAID OF HONOR

- Whoah whoah I don’t think we should talk about licking honey off of your privates on your wedding night.

GROOM

Wedding night or not, you know that shit was hot.

MAID OF HONOR

That was so long ago, long before you and Ceci got all serious-

GROOM

Ceci still doesn’t lick honey of my junk.

She won’t go near it - nada. She always makes a face and says “aye that’s nasty”.

MAID OF HONOR

Well…yeah it IS nasty, but it’s the GOOD nasty. Maybe she was saving it for tonight!

They Laugh Some More.

GROOM

Can I be honest with you? And you won’t freak out…

MAID OF HONOR

Yeah. Of course.

GROOM

If I weren’t with Ceci, you have to know you’d be my soul mate. (Beat.)

MAID OF HONOR

Everyone throughout life has many soul mates. People we’re meant to meet and like los reyes magos they come baring gifts. We were just -

GROOM

Yeah but, you’d be the love of my life. My lifetime… You know that right?

MAID OF HONOR

I know. (Beat) Ceci was the one who liked you. She wanted you more. I wasn’t gonna get in the way of that, she always-

GROOM

I know, I know but… I wanted you. (Groom leans in to kiss Maid of Honor.)

MAID OF HONOR

She didn’t see what a handful you’d be. You’re a player, playa’.

GROOM

I’m not a player I just crush a lot.

MAID OF HONOR

Stuuupit, stop acting like a lush.

GROOM

Aye! I’m sorry. I just want to feel like something about this night was mine. Maybe it’s selfish, but you know how they say the wedding is all about the bride? It’s true! Talk about Bridezilla geez Ceci damn near threw a shit fit because I wanted to serve carne asada during the reception. She said “red meat is bad for you” “the amount of hormones injected into the cows is horrific”, “it cost too much to order 100 organic range free steaks and even if we did we would be serving trauma to our guests on a platter and we shouldn’t want to associate our marriage and family and friends with that sort of brutality.” “Do you want to begin a lifetime together with that on our conscience huh do you?” Like the state of the pinche animal kingdom is my fault or some shit! I have to pick my battles with her tu sabes…

MAID OF HONOR

That explains the vegan only menu.

GROOM

Exactly. And sometimes you know a person just wants to eat steak. I want to bite into a fat, juicy cow and say “damn that’s good”.

MAID OF HONOR

Are you saying I’m a fat juicy cow you want to bite into?

GROOM

No… I mean, well yeah.

MAID OF HONOR

Homie you don’t want to start a lifetime together with me on your conscience either -

GROOM

I do! I’m saying…I want to have a say in my noche de boda. And if that means eating steak, hanging with the one I love, and marrying their best friend so we can all stay close…Well then fuck it, that’s what I want to do. As an American that’s my choice!

MAID OF HONOR

Really that’s being a red blooded “American”?

GROOM

What am I’m supposed to commit to one person now till the day I die?

MAID OF HONOR

Well yeah, pretty much-

GROOM

That doesn’t even make sense! Next comes kids and a mortgage on a house we can’t afford! That I don’t know if I even want! I’m making all these plans and sacrifices with Ceci for “us”, our future, I should get a little bit of what I want too? It’s the beginning of the rest of my life too!

MAID OF HONOR

Pues why jump through all these pinche hoops como un circus animal?

GROOM

Ceci was gonna leave me if I didn't... We've been together for so long and I didn't want to fuck up what we had! (looks at F emotionally)...what WE had.

Maid of Honor tenderly holds Groom by the hand.

MAID OF HONOR

I’m sorry… Blame it on pinche society. Marriage is such a fuckin’…You should have everything you want on the beginning of the rest of your life…

GROOM

Exactly. Gracias. If it WAS you and me, would you have let me have carne asada on the menu?

MAID OF HONOR

Yeah I enjoy biting into a fat juicy steak every now and then too. Besides, I don’t give a shit about all these fancy wedding pendejadas…I just said yes to make Ceci happy because I love her… I mean…I care…about…what she wants…so, if us being here makes her happy, pues I’m happy… To do it…to be here… for her, I mean, (trying to change subject) shoot, if it was MY wedding I probably would’ve had a full on taco truck with an unlimited margarita slushy machine!

GROOM

You’re so classy.

MAID OF HONOR

I prefer to think of it as low maintenance…

For crying out loud nothing says let’s celebrate more than margaritas and tacos! Why do we have to eat quinoa and squash bisque? I never even heard of that mierda!

Groom looks Maid of Honor up and down.

GROOM

You’d make a great second wife.

Beat.

MAID OF HONOR

What’s that supposed to mean?

GROOM

You keep it real homie. 100. You’re someone I can just BE with. I can make all my mistakes with my first marriage and then…just relax and enjoy life with you.

MAID OF HONOR

Modern America. Maybe that’s why I’m single, I’m waiting for my Prince/cess Charming Divorcee, who’s out there making all their mistakes and regrets with spouse #1, sleeping with all the wrong people, waiting till one day we meet, we relax and keep it real. Fuck, no wonder Disney is full of hyped up fairytales, reality has no romance!

GROOM

Aye, please, just take the compliment!

MAID OF HONOR

How is that a complimmm-

Groom rushes in and kisses Maid of Honor passionately. Maid of Honor reciprocates the sentiment. They are swept away. Silence.

MAID OF HONOR

Thank you…umm…for the compliment.

GROOM

…Gracias a ti homie. For giving me something to look forward to… and letting me eat steak.

Lights Out. End of Play.

___________________________

Rebecca Graham Forde, The Birthday Party

CAST

MARTINE In her 30s, the long-time maid who delightfully served under the

grand lady of the home, but detests her sons

CONSTABLE HARRIS The local authority

WILLIAM CHATTERTON 50s, the arrogant, balding, modern art-collecting lord of a 5th Ave mansion

CURTIS CHATTERTON 40’s, the younger brother who often sits and thinks about nothing

AUDREA CHATTERTON The deceased Grand Dame of the House. She is not missed, except by one.

SET DRESSING

A rotunda with a formal, rectangular dining room table. Modern, confrontational art and neon hot button slogans hang sloppily on the walls with classic art, in a tug of war of classic vs. modern.

An impressive grandfather clock sits on one side of the room. A fireplace sits dormant.

A beautiful, if not severe, portrait of Audrea Chatterton, Lady of the House hangs over the mantel.

The table is set with delicate china, and dozens and dozens of pink freesias sit in a tall vase, with a single red rose set in the middle.

A lavish Birthday Cake sits center stage.

There are four table settings.

SCENE I

MARTINE, dressed in a formal maid’s uniform, stands at one end of a lavishly decorated table. She fiddles with the silver place settings, then fiddles again to make them just perfect. She shifts the glassware back and forth by mere centimeters.

She checks the grandfather clock. It reads 7:45PM

She checks around her to make sure she’s alone. She goes to a small pantry door that blends seamlessly into the wallpaper and opens it. Inside is Constable Harris, waiting.

MARTINE

It’s almost 8PM. Are you comfortable?

CONSTABLE HARRIS

Comfortable? No. Confused, yes, as to why I agree to do this each year.

MARTINE

I believe this year she’ll arrive, sir.

CONSTABLE HARRIS

You say this every year. Hasn’t Ms. Chatterton has been dead ten years this evening?

MARTINE

Please sir, I’ll only need an hour of your time.

CONSTABLE HARRIS

I’m telling you I’ve indulged this enough, in fact…

Martine shuts the door before he can protest further.

She crosses to the fireplace, holding a letter in her hand. She looks to the portrait.

MARTINE

Oh Madame, it’s been ten years; please come as you promised, tonight. Lift the veil once and for all. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I don’t know how much longer I can endure the boys and their horrible taste: their horrible manners, their treatment.

WILLIAM enters, dressed in a smoking jacket. He overhears the last of Martine’s plea.

In an act of defiance, he pops the red rose into his lapel.

WILLIAM

“Yes, madame, those boys of yours, what terrible pests to my work they’ve become. They actually make me do things and work for my pay. ”

Martine hides the letter in her pocket and turns to confront William.

MARTINE

Reduced pay. The flower is for the arrangement. She was very specific.

WILLIAM

The flower is for however I see fit. I think the roles around here have gotten a little out of sorts: remember you’re the maid, and I’m the Lord of this Home.

MARTINE

So you remind me every day. Everything is ready for this evening, sir.

WILLIAM

If you’ve been thorough tonight it’s for her, not for me. I don’t know why we go through this trouble every year, anyway.

MARTINE

It was her wish. It’s just one night, her favorite night. She was your mother, you can indulge her.

Martine fiddles one more time with the place settings, while William casually picks up a crystal glass to pour himself a bourbon.

WILLIAM

Well we’ve been indulging mother’s wishes for ten years now. I declare this eve will be the last time.

MARTINE

And risk the curse?

WILLIAM

You and this damn curse; sometimes I think that’s all you believe in.

MARTINE

Well, I’m not the only one that’s shown up to her birthday party, every year.

CURTIS shuffles in. He’s wearing a Grand Dame’s ballgown, and rows and rows of pearls. He’s got a terrible wig on and bright red lips.

Martine GASPS when she sees him.

CURTIS

(in terrible female accent)

“And I’ll avenge any heir who shan’t honor each year of my birth in a manner to which I would approve.”

WILLIAM

Brilliant, pearls, darling.

CURTIS

Thank you, they were my mother’s.

MARTINE

Madam wouldn’t approve of this.

Curtis tosses the wig on the flowers, and lounges in one dinner chair.

CURTIS

I always wished mother had a sense of humor. But alas, all she had was money.

WILLIAM

Lots of it.

CURTIS

That I happily spend every day.

MARTINE

The way you two speak of the dead.

WILLIAM

And the way you speak to me, maid.

MARTINE

Excuse me, sir. But I am only fulfilling Madame’s explicit wishes. Like every year, I’m anxious to see if she’ll arrive.

WILLIAM

Oh enough! Each year we sit here and eat the same old beef wellington, drink her wine…

CURTIS

Fine wine….but that rotten old meat and potato.

WILLIAM

And do our little ritual in an effort to quell the spirit of an old bat who was more than ready to go.

MARTINE

She wasn’t ready to go. It was all so sudden. I had been with her just an hour, prior.

WILLIAM

As you frequently mention to us, both. What are you suggesting, maid?

MARTINE

Nothing. It was sudden. I miss her, that’s all.

CURTIS

Oh sweet Martine, the old goat was ready to kick, sometimes we are too close to the tides to see the tidal wave coming at us.

Martine removes the wig off the centerpiece, tosses it at Curtis and repositions the table as it was.

MARTINE

And yet, here you both are, waiting to see if she comes, careful to not invoke the curse and your nightmare: to be banished from this home, penniless.

WILLIAM

Well maybe you should get used to the idea.

CURTIS

Well, I’m here of course, remember mother also had that temper. You know how she could get.

WILLIAM

She’s dead, Curtis.

MARTINE

It’s still her house, alive or dead.

WILLIAM

Actually it’s our…honestly, what makes you think she can cross back over?

MARTINE

Because she promised me in her dying breath. And you know your mother always kept her word. Especially to me.

WILLIAM

Yes, and I’ve always suspected there’s more to you than your desire to cook and clean. Angling for a future that your birthright did not provide?

MARTINE

I loved her. That is all. It’s almost 8PM. I’ll fetch the desert plates.

Martine EXITS. Curtis and William draw close.

WILLIAM

Ten years of being told how “Mother knew best.” I’m done with this and her; I find it all suspicious and exhausting.

CURTIS

They were extraordinarily close. I’m sure mother liked her better than you.

WILLIAM

And what about you?

CURTIS

Well I was her favorite, of course. But truly, how much longer will we keep Martine on?

WILLIAM

It’s our house now, not Mother’s. The fight about the redecorating was my last straw. “Madame wouldn’t approve, Madame had the walls hand-painted. Madame liked the China as is.” We’ll tell her right after the imaginary birthday party for our rotten mother who only haunts us in our memories. She’ll pack her bags and we’ll finally be free.

CURTIS

I will miss her French toast, but enjoy removing every trace of Mother, once and for all. But she isn’t wrong. Mother did always keep her word, even though she was always horribly late to everything. What if she does show? What if our secret is revealed?

WILLIAM

You’re paranoid. Besides, what could she do? She’s dead!

William takes the wig out of Curtis’s hand. He dances around a bit with it on.

WILLIAM

Time to bring some life back to this house and get rid of little miss loyal stick in the mud.

The CLOCK STRIKES 8 O’CLOCK AND GONGS.

At that exact moment William tosses the wig into the fire, just as Martine returns with four plates delicately balanced on her arms.

With no prompt, the fire ROARS to life. Curtis and William jump back.

WILLIAM

Fool, no one told me it was lit.

MARTINE

It wasn’t. Oh my God! Look!

Out of the ashes appears AUDREA, Grand Dame of the home: a ghost dressed in a very similar outfit as Curtis.

WILLIAM/CURTIS

Mother?!?

MARTINE

Madame. It’s you. You’ve finally come home.

Audrea, while grand, seems disoriented as she looks around the room.

CURTIS

I thought you said she was “dead and gone forever.”

WILLIAM

I didn’t think that was an unreasonable statement.

CURTIS

What could it want?

WILLIAM

I don’t know, but stand on guard. The curse might be real, and I’ll be terrible as homeless and poor. Do as it says.

CURTIS

A death of a whole other degree. We’d be the laughing-stock at the club. Oh my god, we’d need to quit the club.

Audrea begins to walk around the table like an Empress. The actors walk backwards, also around the table, never separating or taking their eyes off her.

CURTIS

Was mother always so tall?

WILLIAM

Don’t talk to it, maybe she’ll go away.

Audrea moves slowly towards the dining room table.

She notices the red rose in William’s lapel. She points to the spot that it was taken.

MARTINE

William, the flower. Put it back.

William reluctantly puts it back in place.

Audrea takes her seat as head of house.

The actors are frozen; Audrea nods and they all slither into their seats.

MARTINE

Do exactly as she says. Remember, it’s HER party.

WILLIAM

Story of our lives.

CURTIS

Call me crazy, but I think death suits her.

Audrea inspects the table setting. She looks to

Martine and nods. She holds up her wine glass.

Martine stands, taking this as a clue that she’d like her wine glass filled. Martine pours the wine to just the edge of the crystal’s top.

WILLIAM

At least mother liked a good pour. (he downs the glass) Another, maid.

Martine goes to pour but Audrea holds her hand up and slams it towards the table. The entire group JUMPS in the air. Curtis dives to the ground.

CURTIS

Don’t hurt me, mother. Remember, I was your favorite!

Audrea holds out her hand. William and Curtis look at each other.

MARTINE

Remember, you must greet her before you sit. Kiss her hand, like old times.

CURTIS

Oh my God. Demoralized even from the afterlife.

Audrea holds her arm out. William and Curtis each do a wildly comedic, if not neurotic, terrified, slip and slide towards the ghost.

CURTIS

She smells like a rotten garden.

WILLIAM

That’s because she’s buried in one.

Each cautiously bends down to kiss the ghostly hand. William spits and curses, while Curtis is unable to unpucker his lips.

Martine goes last. Her approach is more loving. Audrea embraces Martine’s hand and they share a tender moment.

MARTINE

You look very beautiful tonight, Madame. I’ve missed you, so. I hope the table and the flowers are of your liking?

Martine straightens Audrea’s train.

AUDREA

(In ghostly echo) Do sit down.

William looks like he might die. Curtis is hiding under his own skirt.

CURTIS

It talks.

William leans into Curtis, whispering.

WILLIAM

I don’t know what’s been conjured this evening, but we must keep our wits about us; now that she’s appeared let this be the last time we see her grizzly face forever. Let her – and our secrets – be buried with her to eternity.

MARTINE

Thank you, Madame, for inviting me to your birthday party. I feel very special to sit at the table this evening. I’ve brought the letter you left me, per your wishes.

Audrea gives her a noble bow of the head. Audrea snaps her napkin and places it gently on her lap. William, Curtis, and Martine follow suit.

WILLIAM

What letter?

Audra then pulls out of her pocket a carefully preserved letter and sets it in front of Audrea.

MARTINE

I found it tucked in her nightdress the night she’d passed. In her last breath, your mother said I was to bring this letter to her birthday party, and that she would read it when she returned.

WILLIAM

How dare you hide this from us.

CURTIS

After all these years. What does it reveal?

MARTINE

I’ve never opened it. That was her wish.

Audrea places the letter above her plate. She lifts one fork, cueing the rest of the party they may start.

William downs a glass in one go. Martine reluctantly fills it again.

William and Curtis stare at their plates.

CURTIS

Can’t say I’m hungry.

MARTINE

(whispering)

You can’t insult the hostess. You must eat.

CURTIS

Dead hostess, you forgot. Dead.

WILLIAM

Hiding a letter from mother, what sort of games are you up to?

MARTINE

As always, I did what your mother asked of me. Is there a reason you’d be so nervous to read her last words?

WILLIAM

Should you be as obedient to me, we’d get along much better.

AUDREA

Children. Eat.

Curtis and William immediately start eating.

They all chew at Audrea’s pace. chew….chew….chew….

WILLIAM

We’ll be here until tomorrow at this rate.

Audrea puts her fork down. William and Curtis drop theirs. She daintily taps her mouth.

AUDREA

Who has decorated my home with all this nonsense?

William and Curtis look towards the floor and away.

AUDREA

Who has lined my walls with blasphemy?

WILLIAM

It is modern art, mother, and from some of the best artists in New York.

AUDREA

I do not approve.

WILLIAM

I no longer care.

Audra turns and stares uncomfortably long at her son. She moans a deep, disapproving groan.

CURTIS

Maybe we shouldn’t provoke her.

MARTINE

Madame, may I clear your plate?

Audrea does a deep nod. Martine clears all the plates quickly and EXITS.

She returns and lights the candles on the cake.

WILLIAM

Are we really doing this?

Martine looks to them both with a stern look.

MARTINE

It’s the ritual.

MARTINE/WILLIAM/CURTIS

Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dearest mother/madam, apparition from another dimension, happy birthday to you.

Martine goes to cut the cake, but Audrea stops her. She picks up the unopened letter, unseals it, and hands it to Martine.

William becomes tense.

WILLIAM

Here now, hand me that letter.

Audrea slams her hand to the table, unleashing another mighty ROAR. Curtis cowers.

CURTIS

Mother’s temper, oh how it’s all coming back to me.

WILLIAM

Ghost or not, hand me that letter. I demand to see it.

MARTINE

I will not. This might answer questions I’ve long held about that night.

WILLIAM

What “questions?”

MARTINE

Concerning your mother’s untimely demise, and who might be responsible.

May I open it, Madame?

Audrea bows her head yes.

Martine defiantly opens the letter.

MARTINE

“My dearest Martine, how I wish you were to have been mine own and leave you all my possessions, as my two sons came to me this very night….”

Curtis jumps up, interrupting her.

CURTIS

Now what’s this insanity?

WILLIAM

Outrageous. Mother, dead or not you’ve gone too far.

MARTINE

Why is it outrageous your mother should leave anything to me? I cared for her, unlike you both.

WILLIAM

Our relationship with our mother is more complicated than bowing to her commands, like you.

MARTINE

How cruel you were. You think I didn’t hear it all through the walls, the doors…

(yelling towards the closet)

…how I heard you plotting against her, wanting to kill her that very night.

Audrea ROARS in response.

WILLIAM

How dare you, you snide little thief. You probably wrote that letter yourself.

MARTINE

She whispered to me, her last words, what you did. She left this proof. Madame?

Audra solemnly nodes her head YES.

CURTIS

You said you’d found her expired. There was never a mention of a letter.

MARTINE

I lied. Just like you’ve both lied about what happened that evening.

CURTIS

We endure years of Mother’s control, only to be left with nothing.

WILLIAM

This is not how the story ends. Over my dead body, mother, does the maid get everything.

CURTIS

You were right to do it, William.

MARTINE

Done what?

CURTIS

Had we only offed the maid as well that evening, none of this would be happening.

WILLIAM

There’s nothing stopping us now…

Audrea’s head snap turns to William. William looks as though Curtis has majorly slipped up.

William picks up a cake knife off the table and approaches Martine.

Martine is standing, now, still holding the letter.

MARTINE

(screaming)

I knew it! You killed her! Constable!

The Constable bursts from the cabinet. He stops in awe of the sight of Audrea.

Audrea lets out a terrible HOWL. William and Curtis fall to their knees.

WILLIAM

Mother, forgive us.

CURTIS

I was very impressionable.

CONSTABLE

Good Lord almighty, she’s come back.

MARTINE

Madame, did your sons kill you on this very night, long ago?

Audra solemnly nods YES AND POINTS to her sons. Then let’s out a murderous ROAR.

AUDRA

Murder.

WILLIAM

This is absurd!

William suddenly makes a move for the letter, grabbing it out of Martine’s hand while still holding the cake knife.

WILLIAM

“My dearest Martine, how I wish you were to have been my own and leave you my possessions, as my two sons came to me this very night….” (He flips the letter over) There’s nothing more.

CONSTABLE HARRIS

There doesn’t need to be. Gentlemen, what I’ve heard this evening is a confession of murder.

WILLIAM

Now see here. We’ve been tricked by some theatrics: a Houdini type spectacle.

CURTIS

I’m the younger one, and innocent.

(he approaches Audrea)

Curty couldn’t ever hurt mama…

Audra lets out another ROAR.

CONSTABLE HARRIS

There are now serious questions that must be answered on the topic of murder. Come along, now.

The Constable grabs William and Curtis by the arm.

WILLIAM

This is outrageous. She’s the one that should be questioned. In fact, it’s quite possible she killed our dear, beloved mother herself and framed us of the crime.

Audrea ROARS in response, sending the three men cowering.

AUDREA

Lies!

CONSTABLE

They’ll never believe this at the station.

MARTINE

I think it best you leave and never return.

CURTIS

Have the house, it’s yours! It’s haunted, anyway!

WILLIAM

Well, Martine, you’ve impressed me tonight. You’ve certainly worked all this out to your advantage.

MARTINE

As I said before, I serve at the pleasure of the Madame, living or dead.

CONSTABLE HARRIS

Miss, I commend you on your cleverness to reveal this crime.

(to Audrea)

Madame, I will see justice is served.

This tale will surely win me an award of courage, and, for you both, a stiff sentence.

CURTIS

A stiff drink might be in order before we depart?

WILLIAM

Oh shut up, Curtis.

Curtis, William, and the Constable EXIT.

Audrea stands from the table. She stops at the flowers and takes the single rose. She presents it to Martine in a gesture of kindness.

MARTINE

Goodbye, Madame. You may now rest in peace.

She steps towards the fire and disappears into the flames.

The Clock strikes 9 O’clock. The flames spontaneously diminish.

Martine looks around the room and takes a few of the hideous paintings down.

She cuts herself a piece of birthday cake. She tucks the red rose in her hair.

MARTINE

Happy Birthday, Madame. I will take care of our precious home, as you wished.

THE END

BIOGRAPHIES

_____________________________________________________________________

Dan Acosta is a first-generation Mexican American, whose mother and grandparents emigrated from Mexico. He is a former professor, research scientist, and administrator, who retired in 2019 at age 74. He plans to write about his experiences as a Mexican boy trying to succeed in white America. He will focus on personal vignettes about his education and career.

Rebecca Papin is an agented writer, represented by Julie Gwinn at The Seymour Agency. Her debut novel, THE QUEEN CAME HOME, is currently on submission.

Hillary Gordon lives in Ojai, California. She works in FM radio and is in the process of completing her MFA in Creative Writing at Mount Saint Mary's University in Los Angeles, CA. Her work has been featured in Seventeen Magazine, Anvil and Lyre, The Harbinger and The Island Fox.

Marina Castillo is a Hispanic writer from Los Angeles. Her short film script, “Show the Way,” was a quarterfinalist in the We Screenplay Shorts Contest in 2021. She recently returned from a study abroad program in Peru, where she wrote a travel chronicle, “Peru Held the Key,” which is now published on the certificate website for the Latin American-Latinx Creative Studies Program at Mount Saint Mary’s University. Currently, she is pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing at Mount Saint Mary’s University and working on a collection of short stories.

Jean Noel Ruhland, Snakes

Jean Noel Ruhland's poem Amerikaner was published in the Spring 2022 edition of this journal (see additional bio there). She has been an actress and playwright in New York and Los Angeles. For inquiries regarding future productions and development, please email lolahaswings@gmail.com. Jean just completed her MFA at Mount Saint Mary's University with a collection of poetry titled Scatter!, Brain: Resilience.

Claudia Duran currently resides in Los Angeles, CA. Her poem entitled, Querida Tequila, was featured in Snorted the Moon and Doused the Sun: An Addiction Anthology. She has been a guest poet and writer with The Los Angeles Poet Society, Chicanas Cholas y Chisme in East LA, and La Palabra. Duran is currently a Creative Writing Instructor at the California School of the Arts and is earning her MFA in Creative Writing at Mount St. Mary's University.

Rebecca Graham Forde is an Executive Producer/showrunner in non-fiction television, having produced for Netflix, Discovery Channel, OWN, and CBS, amongst others. In 2018 Rebecca founded GRANDI STORIE, Inc., a production company to develop “great stories” in film, television, and new media. Having started her career in Boston producing commercials for brand giants Chevrolet, Fidelity Investments, and Pizzeria Uno, Rebecca is a former Vice-President of the Producers Guild of America, a former TV Academy Executive Peer Group committee member, and a Partner at the SIE Society, a trade organization for Social Impact Entertainment across multiple genres. She is proud to have recently completed her Masters in Creative Writing at Mount St. Mary’s University.