Jack And Jill Plays - Part 26 - Jacob

About Jack and Jill Plays:

This is a new thing I'm doing.  Posting a short play every day as long as I can.  This does not mean that I wrote this play today but I might have.  (My life is not always my own what with work and a 4 year old running around so maybe I wrote it today or maybe it was stockpiled in preparation for the days I can't get in writing.)  My goal is to do at least 100 of these or maybe more but probably 45 or 50 is the length of a full length play so even that would be good.  100 would be better.  300?  amazing.  500?  Does anyone want 500 of these plays?  Anyway, the goal is consecutive days.

The normal things about plays apply-- don't produce or reproduce this play without my permission.  I wrote it so I own it.  Etc.

Jacob
by Adam Szymkowicz

NARRATOR
Jack and Jill stand in the graveyard.  The wind kicks up.  You can hear the old oak trees creaking overhead.  Jack and Jill look down at the fresh grave.

JACK
It's not fair.

NARRATOR
Jack thinks about the day Jacob was born.  It was a great joy, the wattage of which he had never experienced before.  It was love like he'd never known.  And he thought he knew about love.

JACK
It's not fair.

NARRATOR
Jill remembers cutting Jacob's crusts off.  Nursing him.  Cajoling him to eat his greens.  She remembers, she thinks, all the times he made her cry.  But now, she has no tears.

JACK
It's not fair it's not fair it's not fair!

JILL
I know.

JACK
It should be me.

JILL
No.

JACK
Or you.

JILL
No.

JACK
Before him I mean.

NARRATOR
Jacob watches them just out of their view.  Or something like Jacob.  Something Jacoby.  Some essence.  It prickles the back of Jill's neck but she doesn't turn.

JILL
There's nothing we could have done.

JACK
I know.  But--

JILL
Nothing.

JACK
I know.

NARRATOR
Jacob doesn't cry for them.  He has such love in his heart but it's an unbroken heart.  It was.  It is.  It is-was.

JACK
We have to remember everything about him.

JILL
We'll write it down.

JACK
Yes.

NARRATOR
But they don't.  It's too hard.  Too painful.  But sometimes they remember and laugh.  And the tears come too.  Sometimes.  They've thought of themselves so long as mother and father but now suddenly they aren't.  They don't know who they are.  Anymore.


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