CAST
Gabriel Angelus, 15, a sacristan
TIME
Dawn, nearing time for mass
(Around four-thirty in the morning)
PLACE
A dark and silent room in the seminary
(Gabriel walks into the room, dressed in a sacristan’s traditional white garb. He seats himself in a winged armchair. A black bird sits in a rusting metal cage.)
(Music emanates from the room but the source of such is unknown.)
(Open curtains. Music stops abruptly.)
Gabriel: Weeper. I call my bird that. It hithers and takes shelter in the darkness of this humble abode. Stupid bird, you think I can’t see you?
(The bird a single quavering low note.)
What a beautiful song you sing, my Weeper. I learn something from you again…no, rather, I remember it now, and it was Father Alexander who taught me about it—to love mirrors and black birds—what beauty. Looking into the mirror, just before I’m off to another hour at the altar, I see a handsome sacristan indeed. I am pleased. Just like angels who love their white wings.
I’m no angel though, just a child—a child of God. A child that walks closer to the shaking black bird…
(Walks up to the bird’s cage.)
…pulls out his feathers out…one by one…then breaks its dark wings.
(He takes the bird out of the cage and then strokes the length of the bird’s feathers.)
I wouldn’t really, my sweet Weeper. You don’t think I’d actually do that to you, do you?
(Gabriel returns the bird to its cage and then gives it a lopsided leer. He bangs the cage with his fist.)
Stupid bird, you think I can’t see you? I feel the very shivers that run down your spine, how your heartbeat races. Even in the darkness of this room, you can’t hide…sweet one.
(He settles into his armchair once again.)
I love you, my Weeper. You should sing just for me. Or caw or screech. I don’t really mind…as long as it is for me. You should look up at each moment and see only me.
(Silence.)
Oh Weeper! Even in the darkness of this chapel you are unable to hide! I love you with a love that burns my very skin. Skin as richly colored as your fine plumage.
See the blue in my eyes, this dark murky color, and the thin curve of my lips?
(Touches his lips gently, tracing them with his fingertips.)
These are all hers, my mother’s heirlooms.
And now here I am, living off of your fear. You created me, stupid mynah, and now…now you can’t fly…away.
(The sound of a few gruff coughs and a couple of footsteps come from the room next door. Gabriel inclines his head to the right, where on the wall, a crucifix lies.)
But Father Alexander! It isn’t time for children like me to hear mass yet—why, my mynah hasn’t sung his piece! That lady, Magdalene, she loved my mynah too. Poor woman, she loved my mynah too.
You remember her, don’t you?
Poor mother, did you really think that he could be yours?
(Beat.)
Such a small price to pay for beauty—even the demons couldn’t keep away. They hurt her. Poor mother. Pray for us Mary, Mother of us all.
(Gabriel closes his eyes.)
I have one too many brothers under this roof. Hypocrites. Then he comes along, one who remains not a brother but a father to me—Father Alexander.
(He smiles. The mynah sings “Hello, Father” twice.)
Hello Father, that’s all you ever say. He didn’t see me then. I was seated on one of the pews at the back. I wasn’t on mass duty that day. Still though, his pathetic figure shook as he delivered the homily. Could he have felt my hate so strongly, Weeper? I simply adored the look of fear on his face—pure fear at its finest. Ah! But the guilty will always be afraid! Hahaha! Stupid bird, he thinks I can’t see him! You think I can’t see you, Father Alexander?
(Beat.)
Think what you will. Too bad old man, even the saints can’t hear you pray. Even in the darkness of this room, you can’t hide, my sweet one, my mynah.
(A bell tolls in the distance. Light streams through an open window. Gabriel completely ignores these distractions.)
(The mynah begins cawing in its cage, singing “Hello, Father” thrice.)
Time for mass at dawn.
(Gabriel leaves, exist stage left)
(The church bell continues to toll as it strikes five in the morning.)
-Kelly Conlon-
