tridd forums

AMONG THE WILD ROSES (a series of monologues)
by ANTONIO RAMON VILLARREAL

Act I scene I (A sparsely dressed stage with seven separate areas to identify with each character Joshua’s mother is a non-speaking role who is in the rose garden at all times. A scrim covering the up stage wall has black and white photos to represent where each character is speaking from)

(Joshua stage area has a set is a small portion of a porch and stares appearing to be the front of his plantation manor. On the scrim is a slide of his mansion as he speaks with a stately southern dialect)

JOSHUA
The first time I refused an order from my father, he beat me. I had just returned from schooling in the north only to find I was to marry by arrangement. Through this marriage I would acquire an eighteen hundred-acre plantation. Not to mention the land inheritance of twenty one hundred acres upon Father’s death. On this vast and rich acreage were thirteen structures. One of which was a seventeen-room manor. A home that would make any southern woman proud and many a southern gentleman eager to fill it with children. Included in this inheritance were all the farming tools necessary to maintain such a prosperous piece of land. And of coarse there were ninety-seven African Slaves to put them tools to use.

Well, to all this I said no. In the presence of my mother and five younger siblings, Father forced me against the wall with a fist to my face. As he prepared to wallop me again, he ordered Samuel, the youngest to count out loud each time I was struck. Through this entire ordeal father spouted out quotes from the bible like a preacher gone mad. He knew that book from cover to cover. As Samuel counted, I could hear the fear in his voice as he became louder and louder with each blow. When he reached twelve his face was drenched with tears; his arms were stiff at his sides. When he reached fifteen he screamed so loud that it broke the spell which willed father hand upon me. How strange that moment was. With just the sounds of the children whimpering, a cold melancholy air filled the room as though the devil had passed through with high regards to father’s behavior. Father then let go of my coat. I collapsed onto a table knocking over a vase of yellow roses prided by my mother. At first I saw only a single spotted yellow rose upon the floor. As I turned my head, I saw father’s hand hanging at his side. Only then did I realize the spots on the rose were of blood. My blood as it dripped from father’s fingers onto the solitary bloom. He then pulled the kerchief from my coat pocket and wiping his hand said, “Don’t worry son. The Lord will heal you before the nuptials!” Then walked away never looking back.

From that day on father has beaten all of his sons in that fashion for one reason or another. He went as far as to have a glove made to protect his hand. The boy to receive the punishment was the boy to lace up the glove. The entire family and selected house slaves were called on to observe these brutal events. He used to say, “In Biblical times you would have been stoned to death. Now thank me for this mild retribution.”

My two sisters were never beaten. Father felt that women should only be struck by the hand of their husbands unless of coarse the woman is Negro. Instead father would lock up his daughters in the old smokehouse where he claimed the divine spirit would return them to the path of obedience and respect. Rebbecca, the eldest of my sisters was the first to experience what we later deemed as "Lucifer’s Den." For two days and two nights she suffered the solitude created by those thick stone walls. This isolation was her punishment for allowing two Negro children to cool themselves in mother’s pantry. Rebbecca allowed them to share cup of water and a slice of fresh goat cheese. Not a sound came out of Rebbecca during her imprisonment. So eerie it was to walk past the smokehouse knowing that my sister silently lay within. Each day and each night, Father himself gave her a small slice of cheese and a cup of water through a small window. No one else was allowed to venture anywhere near the old structure. The morning when Father opened the smoke house door, Rebbecca slowly stood up then hesitantly stepped out. At first shielding her eyes from the bright sun. Then glaring straight ahead as she weakly made her way to the house. She walked with pride showing no self-pity. Her face and garment covered with ash as the smell of her own excrement lingered within her clothing. The young ones began to cry trying to keep the tears hidden as Mother silent and motionless watched from the roses in her garden. Mother never spoke. Ever. Some how I could see in Rebecca’s face that this would not be the last time she would encounter the darkness of Lucifer’s Den. How I admired her strength and will to survive. She and I were the eldest therefore expected to accept punishment graciously. Father insisted we set a grand example for the children and for his slaves. The slaves knew they would receive far worse then we would ever receive.

Virginia Louise McPherson was the woman I married. Her parents were well respected by many in this part of the country. Though at times criticized for being much to kind to their slaves. Her Mama and Papa both…

Simultaneous dialogs- (Mama And Papa both…)

Act I scene II (Virginia’s stage area appears to be a portion of a horse stall as she appears cleaning a side saddle. On the scrim a photo the elaborate horse barn she is in.)


[align=center]OH NO! A CLIFF HANGER!

Dear Eros--Enjoying the monologues-- please continue....Peace and Love--Jeanne

Sitting on the edge of my seat.........MORE! MORE!

OK, Eros...you got us hooked now don't pull anything funny and lets have part 2.....I am LOVING it!

I too am anxiously awaiting scene 2.... very nice! Compelling and vibrant! I especially want to know more of the "sins" of Rebbecca that will reaquaint her with Lucifer's Den...

Eros Anteros--the stately language is just right on & the play of the two divines--God & Lucifer & which is which--harrowing. I find most appealing the treating of the voice as almost a monotone--no emotion gone helter-skelter. Makes the ethos of the scene scream silently (a paradox) the evil there rather than having the characters screaming it . The staging is very nice. Let's see more.

Cheers, love, joy, peace, & slainte,

Tam/Tom

Holy crap! I expected to be slammed into Lucifer's Den myself. Thanks everyone! i now have incentive.