I originally wrote this play for my Godwiki page. I never ended it, however, because I wasn't content. Yet there are parts in it I'm proud of, thus I will keep it here. Please forgive its abrupt ending!
PutInNameHere, May 30 2015
The storyteller walks onto the stage before the curtain, dressed in a white cloak, spilled with coloured paint all over.
Storyteller: Words, dear readers, are like painter's aim:
A hard brush's swung to insult or blame;
A soft one to encourage mind, an'way,
Might 'bout another story say.
The colours chosen, anyhow,
Tell 'bout feelings' come and go.
Till red, blue, black and white now count we shall:
To see each shimmer's hidden soul.
Another thing not to forget
Is the background, story's bed,
Where the artist secretly
Hides essential harmony.
As the last point will be told:
Watch for mistakes of the painter's fault.
They come from his inner deeps,
But a lonely soul here peeps.
I will be painting now a life in scenes,
Watch for colours, watch for schemes,
For keep in my mind the truth not is
In the foreground, but the abyss!
This curtain will open now:
It shall begin life's endless show!
The storyteller leaves the stage.
The curtain opens.
There is a dark room, people sitting around a man of age, listening to his faint voice. Torches are the only light.
Taleteller: Once upon ages, it is said, not years, not decades, not centuries, not millenniums ago, but a period of time one can not imagine, there were just particles, strings, reverberating from a sound that rang even longer ago. And they just existed, they were only there and swung, keeping this sound alive, every detail, every oscillation and they never let it die.
But then, one day, one of them started moving, and no!, nobody knows why and this is a thing, nobody will ever know, be assured, because this is a divine thing! And it hit other particles and just like gossip spreads from one maid to the other, this movement was carried on and on.
And then, suddenly! A spark lighted the world and the world was bright and the world was Godville!
From the Jagged Peaks in the Northern West to the Divine Lake near San Santanos; from World's Apex next to Herolympus to the Sacred Archipelago; from the unimaginable Wastelands of Insomnia to the tremendous Limestone Labyrinth in the East, both divided by the sweeping Mainstream no Hipster can survive!
But the world of Godville was just inhabited by monsters, by the cruel Schizophrenic Hydra and the evil-hearted Century Fox, the deadly funny Monty Python and the maniacally laughing Evil Master Mime because it seems the entity that let come those into being was an evil one.
But who am I to judge the High One?
To carry on with what is said to have happened: One day, and nobody knows why, so don't ask me, children, one day there suddenly was energy, life energy, and the world domination of the evil monsters ceased... For there a wholly new entity started to exist and this entity was a new one and it was divine! I don't know which god was the first, and I strongly doubt anybody does, but as a fact, more and more deities were born and every single of them decided to create a hero to populate the world. And when they noticed there was gold, they forced each of their slaves to build them a temple and they obeyed. And these temples are built in Godville and they are made of one thousand golden bricks. If you have been to Godville yet, you may have seen their roofs, shining in the bright noonday sun. Oh yes, they are great signs of worshipping!
And, I don't exactly know how, but I guess heroes too have certain human needs, the population started to grow, the towns that had been built by the High One got filled and we all see, taste, feel, hear and - unfortunately - also smell the result.
The taleteller stops talking and looks around, knowingly seeing the same looks on the faces as every time he tells the story. The elders bored, disappointed, the children completely excited.
Child: Can you become a god?
The man looks lays back as it is always the same question to be asked. He quickly changes to his mystic voice.
Taleteller: Some say so, some don't. If you ask me: Never stop believing, but if it is possible it is a hard way and there will be many stones one has to walk by.
The child nodes, then turns around and vanishes in the crowd.
The curtain closes.
III. The way
Scene one: A ridiculous encounter
A tall man, aged about 17, perhaps older, perhaps younger, walks a lonely, muddy road. In a distance another person can be seen.
Young man: The person coming straight my way,
Who in gods' name could this be,
He who my eagle's eyes can see,
Have to ask him, cannot say!
The two men, the other one is male, too, but way older, reach each other.
Young man: I salute you, wise man!
Old man: Hail to thee, lad! Tell me, how did you end up in this rainy desolation?
Young man: That story is a long story to tell. The path just led me here.
Old man: "The path led you here..." Vague words I hear here. Will the answer to my question where you are going be like this, too?
Young man: Godvillewood is where I suppose myself to arrive. Is this the right path?
Old man: Following the River Stinks 'long there,
And then just join the milestone road to east,
Walk this way and after crossing one bridge at least,
You will reach the urban lair.
Young man: Thanks to you, wise man, and now I'll bow myself well off!
Old man: You will hear no "fare thee well",
I'd like to know who you are,
What's your moon phase, what's your star?
Shortly: Please do your story tell!
Young man: The weather is rainy, my day was long,
But this favour will be granted, anyway,
And until the sun's last ray
I will sing my song!
Once upon a starry eve,
Smoke in a small hut and then
There was a story told by man,
'times euphoric, 'times with grief!
Me, I was a child this day,
And listened to his quiet tale,
Saw his lined skin - so pale!
And dreamed, due to his words, away...
Into a world, newly born
The day as sun's eternal yoke
And night, quasi a dark, black cloak,
By a warlock to be worn.
Of the first gods we were told,
How they took their heroes, well,
Revived each time after they fell
Into the deadly, gravely cold.
Inspired by this image drawn,
Young me had an idea
And - that's the reason I came here! -
Promised this myself ere dawn:
Either I would become a god
Or proudly die trying,
No sobbing, no crying -
Stolidly like a 'bot...
You may not believe me, o man!
But I swore a vow,
The matter is not if but how,
So I am sure: I can
And will, oh gods, I will!
Old man: Strange words I hear and I scarcely can trow them, but - nonetheless - I beg for the right to laugh!
Young man: If politeness doesn't matter to you, you may, but...
The old man's laughter interrupts him, but he carries on, nevertheless. The young man answers, not pathetically like before, but annoyed.
Young man: You could hurt my feelings, you know?
The old man's laughter grows louder.
Young man: Are you sure you wanna make me angry? Really? Do you dare?!
The old man's face colours and he starts to hyperventilate.
Young man: IS THIS WHAT YOU WANNA DO? MAKE ME ANGRY?
The old man chokes and dies, guffawing.
Young man: Ha! There you have it! I did warn you!
The young man contently goes ahead, leaving the dead old man on the stage. The latter giggles shortly, then continues being dead.
Scene two: Entering Godvillewood
The young man walks the same muddy road as before, but there is another background: A hill with the scrawly letters on it. The young man still murmurs about the scene before.
Young man: ...who did he think he is? This was my monologue, I almost wrote it myself and he definitely has no right to laugh about it. I mean, yes, I literally I allowed him, but it was no really allowance, it was all about being polite and I thought he was! I really did! And then his voice, I mean, a guy with such a high-pitched voice is ridicolous. And there aren't any excuses for such behaviour! Yes, I know, he will say he was old and didn't know what he was saying, he was concerned about, let's say, his hip and then such words are said easily, and no, of course it wasn't...
He looks up and sees the letters. All his drama is back.
Young man: Ah, finally! The green woods of Godvillewood greet me and offer their sight!
Gone the journey's hardness and gone too its fright!
"The One Near Godville", "Verwood-town",
Has to me its feature shown!
I smell the traders smelling gold,
Households' fires denying the cold;
Oh behind this broken gate
Lies another, future fate!
He steps into the city, and stops talking. He looks around fascinatedly, sees heroes, mostly harmed and drunk.
Young man: From far this place looked heaven-like
Now this Gomorrah is an eye's spike!
There's beer too much and thoughts too few;
Here's only 'I', no thought for 'you'!
Nonetheless it's me who's here
And I have an aim - not near.
The way was long and it still is
Until my manlike soul receives a divine kiss.
So now I wonder what to do
And the answer, oh you,
You're really quick, my brain:
It is so easy: knowledge gain!
But whom to seek for such a task?
Whom to talk to, whom to ask?
The self-named priests of all these gods
Or our descendant who nastily rots?
No, the Creator won't be help at all,
As he now is in divine hall
With the gods he formed himself -
Put on the earthly "look-at-shelf"!
So the preachers will be talked to
To heal me from my imagination's flu
And show me ways never used
To make me wise and - probably - confused!
The young man goes ahead, proud of doing a one-scene-long monologue.
Scene three: The path to divinity
It's a dark room, statues of famous gods all around. Two silhouettes of men are talking to each other.
Priest one: Did you hear the rumours lately,
All these awkward things about our gods,
I know them all and there a lots -
I bet they hate me!
Priest two: I heard one, too, and I was surprised:
Domerthos - the one dressed in alloy -
Just bought a lilac cuddly toy;
The hard god shows his softened side!
Priest one: That is known by every child,
But there's a stalker among them, too:
Bellaouthena is watching you
As no one is by her not spied.
Priest two: Not bad, but listen what I've got to say:
Hairplug4men, who is thought unbeatable,
Is of a rabbit-fight incapable
As tis what he's of afraid!
Priest one: Oh, c'mon, sure that's a lie,
But Stickyorder is said to like his evil bro,
He won't admit that, though,
They're so different, don't know why!
Priest two: That's all well enough, but hold your hat:
The Watch Commander Azzageddi - and this is strange-...
The young man enters the stage, priest two stops talking.
Young man: Greetings, your highnesseseseses.
He falls silent for a moment, confused, then continues.
Young man: I come to you, oh all gods' priests,
On a tale's behalf, no, wait!
Don't carry on your feast
Or whatever you did with your, well, mate.
I'll spare you the story,
So don't ask "what?" -
For heavens' glory:
I'd like to become a god!
Priest one: Hold on, you childish-...
Young man: My monologue will first be said
And don't interrupt me so long;
Open up your ears instead
And please, don't tell me wrong!
Priest two brings a bottle with the words "Holy Beer" written on. He notices the young man's asking look.
Priest two: The "holy" is just to point out the difference to heroes. (He literally spits the word "hero" out.)
It shan't be the case that we, all gods' vassals, are being compared to such ... persons!
Young man: So, what is the path?
Priest one: Two ways there are, my son:
Partly easy, party hard,
So, gods be my guard -
Tis the first one:
Pain!, I scream to answer you!
Pain!, they say, they bark!
Pain!, the ones with exclamation mark!
"Pain!", the brand for me and you!
There are cheaper versions, though, I heard,
Without the exclamation mark it's minus ten percent -
Do you also smell the gold coins' scent?
You see, my son, I'm so alert!
In the earlier days, it is said,
Pain had to be felt itself
Today you put it onto your shelf -
This change is - I daresay - not too bad!
Young man: (angrily) I don't care about the punctuation,
So what's the second possibility?
Priest two: I'm afraid, we must not say,
As this kind of advertisement
Ain't alright for this statement
So, y'boy, just go away!
He takes a long sip of the bottle of "Holy Beer".