Dancing with myself.

Here’s my piece from the writing workshop I participated in yesterday. My prompts were as follows: Action: Masturbating in the bathtub, Location: A park, Prop: Broken pail; Secret: I’m a homosexual; First line of the play: “It seems like a hundred years ago,” Last line: “I swear by Zeus I will smite thee down.” Obstacles/interruptions: beeping noise and car alarm. I think we had 12-15 min. to write.


Lights up on an empty, white bathtub that sits center stage. Next to the bathtub sits a rusty, metal pail. Overhead are seen ropes dangling at varying heights with light bulbs, offering soft, warm intimate lighting. Handwritten letters are scattered all over the floor surrounding the bathtub. A girl sits in the tub. She speaks.

It seems like a hundred years ago, maybe a lifetime for some, but I’m not sure how either feels.

Beeping heard in the distance and stops before dialogue continues.

I’m young. Other people tell me I’m young…but inside I feel so old. Inside I feel my bone turning to dust and the muscles sculpting around like rock. If you look close enough, you can see my fair rose wither, see the lines drawing in around my lashes.

A video is seen in the background. The same girl, in a park, swings on a tire swing hung from a high branch. The video continues throughout the piece. A car alarm is heard in the distance, which statics the video for a moment. The girl looks at the film and speaks.

I don’t know why I continue.

Looks back out.

Is it a game?

If I close the door and lock it, no one will come in. The bathroom is the only door with a lock…from the inside. The tile is the only surface holding off the masses.

I fill the tub. I just let the water run. I slowly undress, anticipating submersion. And right before the water breaches, I step in. The first step is always the first taste of freedom. I sink down into the water and let my body swell in the warm current. Everything becomes bigger for a moment but I don’t mind. I lean my head back and exhale. And when the time is right and the temperature perfect – I dance with myself.

I dance with myself only to dance with her.

Pounding is heard on a door. Voice: “Live! You’ve been in there for hours! Get out of the bathroom or I swear by Zeus I will smite thee down!”


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