Angel Falls

script by Bankston Creech, art by Jamie Needham

Setting: A Victorian-era hotel in the 21st century, a little worse for wear but clearly kept with love. It was many things before it was here and now. The set is a standing set, with all the audience needs to see of the hotel always visible: two hotel rooms, the lobby, and the morgue. Ideally it should be multiple stories. GHOST is always above.

Characters:

VIC: Sculptor staying at the hotel while a power issue is worked out at the local artist’s colony. Young, but career on the rise. Butch lesbian. Pronouns can vary in dialogue, but he/him used in stage directions. Big, steady hands.

DIANA: Recently took a personal leave from grad school to stay at the hotel for a while. Was hoping not to interact with anyone but the hotel’s owners, EM and CLARK, during storm season.

GHOST: Between a daydream and a memory, or someone else’s idea of a memory. Everything about them is vague, including when they’re from.

GHOST’s lines should bleed into the rest of the dialogue. […] indicates an omission, as though GHOST is reading from a transcript of damaged records. In fact, DIANA thinks she’s just remembering things she’s read while digitizing records for the hotel. This gets less clear as the scene progresses.

Sculpting Scene

VIC has set up shop in the morgue. It’s dark and a little eerie. His projects aren’t visible, but there may be indications of them. A table (an exam table?) in the center of the room has been covered with a tablecloth and set up with a large pile of clay.

VIC: Okay. First lesson. Sculpting 101.

GHOST: Yesterday he made me out of clay.

VIC: This is mostly scrap clay, so don’t worry about messing up. I’ve got plenty more lying around down here. Let’s start just kneading it, get you comfortable with how the clay feels, how you can shape it.

GHOST: It stormed last night and well into this afternoon. It’s already so dreary here, so dull. As soon as the rain stopped we ran out and grabbed fistfuls of clay. 

Moment where they focus on the clay, each kneading their own lump at separate ends of the table. VIC’s movement’s are natural, practiced, he works his clay like it’s an extension of his body. DIANA approaches it like she’s being graded.

DIANA: How are you doing down here? I know it can’t be as comfortable as your space down at the colony. 

VIC: I like it a lot, actually. I was worried it would feel a little morbid, and it is a little dark compared to the actual studio Dottie has set up, but it’s kinda nice. Very meditative.

GHOST: We dug into the earth [...] it burrowed into our fingernails, coated our hands, our knees. I’ve been trying to get out the stains…

VIC: And I think of my work as a kind of reverse dissection. You probably know more about the actual history, but it feels like fate to be working on building bodies in a place that used to be a hospital. Like I’m honoring the practice of healing, even if this particular room used to be the morgue.

DIANA: (sharp laugh. She does know more about the actual history, has been feeling it in the air for weeks) Yeah, I guess. That’s very… poetic.

VIC: Well, I am an artist. Gotta tell the gallery owners something.

GHOST: Our fingers childlike and shaking with laughter. Too clumsy to make anything more than vague figures, clumps of sticky red clay. 

DIANA: Okay, my clay feels warmed up.

VIC: But do you feel connected to it?

DIANA: I feel very connected to it. I don’t think I’ve ever had a stronger emotional attachment than the one I have with this clay.

VIC: Oh yeah. Now we’re cooking with fire. Now we’re all warmed up and in sync with the clay, it’s shaping time. I thought we might do a bust? It’s a good way to cover all the basics. And if it looks weird we can just say it’s a commentary on the human form or identity or something and I can probably find a really rich buyer for it anyway.

DIANA: Sounds complicated and scary. Let’s do it.

GHOST: [...] said “I made you” and offered me a misshapen figure. Orange-red, damp coloring my palms.

VIC: So first let’s separate what we’ve kneaded into three parts.

VIC and GHOST’s lines are running together more and more, GHOST sometimes repeating (but not copying) the end of VIC’s sentences. There is a clear distinction between this and how DIANA and GHOST run together: the former is more mimicry, as though GHOST is repeating back what VIC says so they remember it later, consciously bringing it close to hold within themself. 

VIC: We’re going for a basic silhouette: shoulders, neck, head. Simplify all of those into their most basic shapes.

GHOST: When he handed it to me, I thought “This is me. He has given me myself.” A silly thought. One a child would have.

VIC: Smooth it out… Yeah, like that. Perfect. They have really nice shoulders. Broad. Authoritative.

As he talks, VIC murmurs guidance and points out spots to work on the fledgling sculpture. He keeps a water sprayer in hand, occasionally moistening the clay so it remains pliable.

DIANA should be physically responsive to VIC, following his directions and making noises of assent, even ad-libbing a few short responses. She is interested in this lesson and in her teacher. But her mind is also elsewhere, looping what she’s read in the archives, full of thoughts of GHOST.

GHOST: I cradled the figure in my fingers-- it was so delicate. A small part of me worried that I would feel the pain of it’s breaking. Silly girl. 

VIC: Now the neck goes on to the shoulders. Keep it bigger than you think it needs to be-- that’s it. We can always go back and whittle it down later, if we need to.

GHOST: (repeating something they have said often, perhaps something they were told) I’m not well. I’m here to get better. And I have been. My hands don’t shake so much, not like they used to. My mind doesn’t wander. I know that I am not a doll made from untreated clay.

VIC: And now, the final piece. Time to make the head.

VIC shows DIANA how to pile clay onto the neck in clumps. Their fingers brush as they build up the oval, laughing at their own clumsiness, getting closer and closer. 

Beat. At the tail end of a laugh VIC turns to look at DIANA.

VIC: You never did tell me why you were here.

GHOST AND (softly) DIANA: I’m here to get better.

VIC: Sorry?

DIANA: Sorry. (draws back) Was just thinking about something I read in the archives earlier. Not important. What did you say?

VIC: No worries. I told you it was meditative down here. Beat. I was actually wondering what you’re doing here at the hotel. I know you said you’re not related to Clark and Em, and Dottie mentioned you were doing some kind of research?

GHOST: (super bleeding into the other dialogue) Still, when I brought the figure to my room and set it on the windowsill, beside the flowers from the garden (Queen Anne’s lace and Black-eyed Susan. Must press them soon before they die) and it cracked— of course it cracked, unrefined clay dries so quickly, isn’t capable of lasting—  

VIC: Just seems a little odd, you and this old couple you’re not related to up here alone in this big hotel.

DIANA: Usually there’s more staff around. But with storm season and all the cancellations there’s really been no need. And besides, they’re not not family. I mean- Em’s my godmother. She and my mom were close. Are close. My mom’s first job after leaving home was as a reenactor in the hotel. I’ve known them my whole life. So I guess we’re kinda like family, in a way. I don’t really think of Em and Clark as my grandparents, but I guess that’s because I know them a lot better than a lot of my blood relatives. They definitely know me better than my blood relatives. They’re something closer than family. Does that makes sense?

VIC: Yeah. Totally. I have some experience with that, or something like it, I think.  Beat. So what’s your research about?

DIANA: It’s not really formal research. I’m just helping Em sort through the hotel’s archives, digitizing some stuff. Technically I do study history, and there’s some great material here— the past owners saved a lot of what different guests have left over the years. Stuff like that.

VIC: That sounds really cool. You’ll have to show me some of what you’re working on sometime. 

GHOST: Even with the water, even after being molded by his precious hands

DIANA: Definitely. I’d love that. 

VIC: Looking forward to it! (turning his attention to the bust, circling around the table to face it) And it looks like we’ve got the basic shapes down. Time to add some details.

GHOST: All it took was one touch for everything to break. 

VIC: Which means we break out the tools. 

He goes to grab a bag from where he set it earlier on the floor. After setting it on the table he opens it and begins laying out tools.

VIC: You might be familiar with some of these, but I still think it’s useful to go over names, just so you can learn some of the technical language. Makes it easier for us to communicate. 

DIANA: (back in student mode) Of course.

VIC: This (holding up a small tool, clearly meant for detailing)  is a handsaw.

DIANA: Oh is it?

VIC: It is! And this (it’s an old paintbrush) is a shovel.

DIANA: Yes, I’m familiar. That’ll be useful for sculpting.

VIC: Yes indeed. And this is a—

DIANA: Speculum?

VIC: (a laugh breaks out) Not quite, though I can see where you’re coming from. It’s actually called a caliper.

DIANA: That’s its real name?

VIC: That’s one hundred percent it’s real name. How could you doubt me. We’re gonna use it to measure your head.

DIANA: My head?

VIC: Your head, the bust’s head, everyone’s gonna get their head measured today. But you’re gonna be our model. Hold still. The ends are sharp.

GHOST: Just one touch and 

She does. He opens the caliper wide enough to cradle her head. Both hold still, looking at each other for half a second longer than is strictly necessary. 

VIC moves the caliper to the bust, assessing.

VIC: Looks like our basic shape is right. I thought so, just eyeballing it, but it never hurts to check. That means we can mark out where everything goes.

He grabs a handful of screws from a pile he made earlier on the table, pushing them into the bust as he lists off areas of the head

GHOST rubs their corresponding body parts as he names them. Maybe DIANA twitches in unison.

VIC: First, the top of the head.

Then the chin.

And each side of the head, near the middle of the face.

DIANA: (itchy, uncomfortable) I can see what you meant about your work fitting and how the hotel used to be a hospital. It almost looks like you’re giving them a lobotomy.

GHOST: Just one touch and I shattered.

VIC: Yeah, I guess in a way it does. Next time I’ll have to bring my ice pick. Really reenact some of the stories about this place.

GHOST: […] one touch […] I shattered.

VIC: Now we have that sorted we can find our where the nose and ears go. And from there we can figure out everything else.

VIC marks the clay as he speaks

VIC: There we go. See? If the nose is here (line) that means the eyes (line) are here, and the hairline (line) is here, and the lips (line) are here. And there we have it. A face.

DIANA: Yeah. A face.

GHOST: The water

VIC: So I think the best way to go from here is for me to do one side and you to do the other. We have a lot of the basic shapes, so while we might add a little clay for the eyebrows and nose, it’s mostly about etching outlines for now. That sound good?

DIANA: That sounds great.

GHOST: His hands

VIC: Okay. Just watch how I shape the nose, and then you try and do that on the other side.

VIC’s movements are practiced, self-assured. DIANA’s are noticeably less so, but she is a practiced student, and she does a good job of copying his movements across the face. He corrects her hands when they get unsteady, making soft noises of encouragement as they go. 

GHOST: It felt as though I had shattered. Or something within me, something delicate and small, had hoped that clay made with good, rich Ozark dirt and water, pure and from here, would hold some kind of magic. That it would hold me-- that it would hold the doll together. That the earth of this place and the hands of this man would make me feel whole again.

VIC and DIANA have created rough impressions eyebrows, a nose, and lips. DIANA has grown increasingly shaken, increasingly aware of what GHOST is saying and everything they have said, but is doing her best to hide it from VIC.

VIC: Great job. Now we start on the eyes. Windows to the soul and all. This requires our handsaws.

He picks up one of the small sticks for himself for himself and hands DIANA another

VIC: Why don’t you watch me first, and then you try. Remember, this is nothing that can’t be changed later. We’re getting a little more detailed but still just going for an impression of the eye.

GHOST: Do you want to know a secret? I think you can keep it, dear diary. You see, I couldn’t stand the thought of that sad little doll sitting there on the window sill, just waiting to break. I lay in bed all last night, just thinking about it, how still it was, how it was slowly drying out.

VIC finishes his eye with the same ease he’s carried throughout the lesson. When DIANA starts on her side he bends down to watch. She’s shaking.

VIC: There you go. Perfect. Beat. You know (he inches closer) I’ve really enjoyed this time with you. Not that dinner with everyone isn’t nice, but getting to know you has been— it’s been good. I was wondering if maybe— 

GHOST: So I broke it.

DIANA’s hand jerks out, out of her control, and smashes into her half of the unfinished bust. The clay that they spent so long carefully building up melts into the table.

DIANA: I— I’m sorry. I just- I told Clark I’d— and I’ve been here so long— I’m sorry.

VIC: It’s okay. Are you— (he reaches for her, but she’s out the door before he can get to her) Nice. Real smooth. Way to read the signs. Beat. Well. Back to work, I guess.

VIC gathers his tools back into his bag. He pauses in front of the ruined bust, looking at it for a moment before deciding to leave it untouched. He exits. GHOST smiles sadly. It’s bittersweet, how many times they’ve been here before.

GHOST: I broke it before it could break.

END