Falling Sky

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
A mother has a premonition of her son dying in battle. She must decide how much she is willing to lose to save him.

Scene one of something I have been working on for a long time. Scene two will hopefully come soon.

Submitted: January 11, 2014

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Submitted: January 11, 2014

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MOTHER:I SAY THE SKY IS FALLING DOWN!

Let whatever angels maybe

Make him forget this loathsome war

My son won't be earthed before me

FATHER: He won't be earthed at all say I

He's beaten all foes all the odds

With war comes immortality

From hence forth go fight like the gods.

SON: When the bullies and brats hit me

You said I was perfect, a prize

When the taunters beat me to shame

You said 'like the gods you will rise.

Well, Years have passed and I've grown strong

Like my blade my mind's sharp and clean

My teacher at the King's Army

Says I'm the best he's ever seen

I have fought monsters and demons

I've never been mangled or clawed

Your prophecy has come to light

I am not god-like, I am God.

MOTHER: I was merely telling a tale

The context of these words is lost

Don't misunderstand my meaning

It'll come with breath taking cost.

You are a born fighter and star

In competition you're the best

But have you taken a man's life?

Watched eyes close for eternal rest?

War is a siren's snaring song

Played with swords and blood for the notes

And the prize for dancing with her?

Quartets of blades played upon throats

You don't truly fight for honor

You fight for popularity

You're already the kingdom's star

Find joy in being rarity

SON: I don't care about rarity

Rarity is consolation

I want to be legendary

Nothing will sate my fixation

My fighting has bought home and health

That is only the beginning

You will be swimming in riches

The sky is yours when I'm winning

I have only fought in contests

I'm a beginner in battle

But I'm the best fighter around

I will slaughter them like cattle.

FATHER: I could not be more proud of you

Leader of the King's elite force.

Appointed by the king himself

You should be proud of your life's course

Like my father and his before

I bequeath my sword to my son

My heart is heavy, still I'm sure

You shall burn brighter than the sun

MOTHER: The sky is falling are you blind?!

It falls on homes and hearts like hail

It bruises bones bodies and brains

Damn this terror this evil gale!

FATHER: Yes, we know, the sky has fallen

You've said it many times before

We know you're scared we understand

You've been shaken down to your core.

SON: Does she know I went to the Fates?

FATHER: No! His winning has been foretold

SON: Their heads will rolls to Hell's grim gates!

FATHER AND SON:(SING)Their once hard bones will bend

To Hell's grim gates will send

Their heads will roll

So here's your toll

Your women we'll attend!

MOTHER: (during song) Stop! Stop! No more! Love not this gore!

I did not want to reveal this

For fear of witches penalty

But last fortnight while a slumber

Did I dream This reality!

I dreamt of this entire month

I saw the ending of the war

I saw the tides of battle turn

I saw you dripped in blood and gore

It horrifies me to say this

But it must be for it is true

You were but flesh upon the ground

A spear had pierced your heart straight through.

SON: This can only be but nonsense

I've fought much greater enemies

Come let me show you all my skills

I am like the great Hercules

FATHER: it's not just nonsense but treason

This dream is not, will not come true

This nightmare is the seed of doubt

A seed that had its chance and grew.

MOTHER: Son that is a very good thought

Prove your great skill by fighting me

You look shocked. I've swung swords before.

I will be your first enemy.

SON: What?! Mom! Don't be ridiculous.

How could you think I could hurt you?

FATHER: You're no foe! I won't allow it.

I fear her mind has gone cuckoo.

MOTHER: Why not fight? Why not allow it?

Your deeds have thrashed my soul thus far

This is my last lesson for you

War drowns the soul like lungs to tar.

FATHER: how could you tempt him to kill you?

Are you possessed? Tell me you lie

Unravel this riddle for me

By your sons hand you want to die?

MOTHER: Swiftly swing your sword soldier son

Split and slit and slice and sever

Listen to this sad sows song

Strike soundly son if so clever.

SON: How dare you goad me like a child

I've stood on the backs of giants

Foes tremble when hearing my name

I won't be one of Death's clients

Women fall to their fucking knees

Because they know that I'm around

They want me to swing my sword too

To bury in their Venus mound

I am the hero of this world

But I'm also Death's employer

It's my call on who lives or dies

Because I'm this world's destroyer

How could you not be proud of me?

Don't you see that I need to fight?

Unconditional love and faith

That is a kins god given right.

MOTHER: You lust for love like a sick dog

You perform for petty applause

You pathetic pompous peacock

Popularity is your cause.

I have no mother's love for thee

I recant all knowledge of you

You are but flesh upon the ground

Your body to my heart is new

Now! Now call me your enemy!

 

FATHER: No. You could never be an enemy. I have -- we both have faithfully and contently loved you for years. Whatever evil you have contracted it won't trick us into hating you. Even if you did have a dream about our son dying that is by all account normal. You're his mother it's natural to worry. But how can I believe that this vision of yours is what will actually happen? Should I match madness for madness? Or should I side with what is sensible and say that you are ill? That you are diseased. Our son is a prodigal warrior. You're more likely to lose him through this venomous word vomit than you are to him fighting in a war. We must leave before we are subjected to any more poison. Come Son. Let's leave this stranger.

MOTHER: (side) Some putrid weight sits on my chest

It's as empty as rotted wood

Have my words over stepped my cause?

No, this is for the greater good.

MOTHER: Our hearts must be one in the same,

For our hearts bleed from the same cut.

But If you leave my blood will spill

With no true lid to keep it shut.

I beg you to heed my warning

Realize the wisdom from my plea

This is your last warning: Don't go.

(PAUSE)

Husband please come to console me

I have lost my son. My baby.

The poison in my fangs is gone

Or else it's seeped into my bones

Whereby my soul it feeds upon.

(THE HUSBAND RELUCTANTLY GOES TO CONSOLE HIS WIFE. THE WIFE KICKS HIM TO THE GROUND AND AIMS THE SWORD AT HER HUSBANDS NECK. THE HUSBAND SCREAMS IN PAIN BUT DOES NOT LOOK AFRAID. HE IS SURPRISED BUT SOLEMN. SAD.)

SON: Vile despicable abortion!

You godless unabsolv'ed filth

How dare you attack my father

Your grave with your loose hand I'll tilth.

FATHER: Don't speak to your mother like that.

I know your mom she'll never quit

Fulfill her wish to have a fight

Show her the brunt of your blade bit

If this is what she insists on

then you will respect her request.

Why are you pacing animal?

Cut out the tongue that does protest.

Was that an empty threat you made?

She wants Death from Oedipal wrath

It's grotesque, but she's still your mom.

Christen the start of your war path.

SON: My resilience is broken

The devil wants to play a game

then for its game we must prepare

To bare it's horrors without shame.

I'll fight you with one condition.

When my sword is forced on your skin

When you lose to our fated fight

You remember this is your sin

The scars you will forever bare

Will scream like the harpies of hell

Remember that I loved you once

What I feel now I cannot tell.

MOTHER: This I know and this I will bare.

This I know and this I will bare.

This I know and this I will bare.

This I know and this I will bare.

(THROUGH HER FINAL LINES THEY READY THEIR FIGHT. SWORDS IN HAND. THE MOTHER MAYBE TRIES TO HURT THE SON BUT THE SON HAS OBVIOUS TALENT. THE MOTHER IS NOT WITHOUT HER SKILL HOWEVER. THROUGHOUT THE FIGHT THE MOTHER DEFENDS HERSELF. BUT AT ONE POINT THE SON THRUSTS AND THE MOTHER LETS HER SWORD DOWN. THE STRIKE LANDS. THEN HE DIGS THE SWORD FARTHER INTO THE WOUND.)

SON: Nothing. I feel... I feel nothing.


© Copyright 2018 Jack Grayson. All rights reserved.

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