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Description
[Curtin rises. Stage opens in darkness. A light slowly brightens until the CENTER of the stage is well lit. The RIGHT side of the stage is also lit but the LEFT side is still quite dark. It is a cold day at an old mountain cemetery. Halfway in the shadows to the LEFT is a large dead tree.  The rest of the stage has scattered old tombstones, some broken and falling down.  Fog covers the stage floor.]

[The sound of two people walking come from the RIGHT.]

[Two people enter from the RIGHT. One is holding a camera.]

FRIEND.  We’re here. Pretty lively isn’t it?
PHOTOGRAPHER. It’s perfect. So solemn and mysterious. I have been dying to take photos of a graveyard for ages.
FRIEND. Why again did we have to drive all the way up to the mountains to find a cemetery?
PHOTOGRAPHER. Well the Mountain View Cemetery gives me the creeps.
FRIEND. [Laughs.]
PHOTOGRAPHER. [Moves and looks around.] It’s just weird. A gas station across the street, housing developments on the other.  It’s right in the middle of everything and you can’t avoid driving by it. [Pause. Starts taking photos of the tombstones and moves about the stage.] Plus I wouldn’t feel right taking photos there. You know? Because people’s loved ones are buried there…and they still are remembered and mourned.
FRIEND. Yeah, I guess I see what you mean. [Pause.]  Amber’s little sister is buried there.
PHOTOGRAPHER.  Or like those two girls and that guy from high school that died in that car crash on Ninth Street last year.

[PHOTOGRAPHER kneels down to read the epithet tombstone.]

PHOTOGRAPHER. “Our Beloved Emma, Darlin we miss thee.  Age 11 months.” [Moves on to another tombstone and reads.] “Here lies our beloved Sgt. Samuel Taylor. Husband Father Friend. Forever in our hearts.” [Pause.]  The people buried in this cemetery lived in times so much different from ours. I think that is why it doesn’t bother me to be in old cemeteries. [Stands up.] In new cemeteries it is creepy because its like, “Oh there’s that one guy who got shot at the bar, or there’s the person who fell into the river and drowned.” It’s like all the tombstones shout out to me, “This will be you!” It reminds me of my own mortality and I fear it. [Pause.] Here…it’s easier to reflect on these people’s lives because they resemble stories.  Each a fragment of a long past time.  It’s hard to imagine how they live…and died.

FRIEND. Never really thought of it that way.
[The light starts to dim a bit.]
FRIEND. It is getting late. We should go and head back. I don’t want to drive back down in the dark.
PHOTOGRAPHER. [Sighs and snaps one last photo while moving towards the RIGHT.]

[Both exit to the RIGHT.]

[As the main light dims a voice is heard.]
VOICE. Too often we think ourselves invincible and we learn too late that we were wrong.  Time is an infinite expansion and each of our lives is but a bit of dust on the long record of humanity.  Fear your own mortality and do great things with the moments you are given.

[A light now focuses on the tree. A tombstone now is lit that was before in shadows. It is newer than the others. It reads.]

“Our Beloved Friend and Artist. Died April 8th, 2005.”

[Curtin Falls.]

Description
[Curtin rises. Stage opens in darkness. A light slowly brightens until the CENTER of the stage is well lit. The RIGHT side of the stage is also lit but the LEFT side is still quite dark. It is a cold day at an old mountain cemetery. Halfway in the shadows to the LEFT is a large dead tree.  The rest of the stage has scattered old tombstones, some broken and falling down.  Fog covers the stage floor.]

[The sound of two people walking come from the RIGHT.]

[Two people enter from the RIGHT. One is holding a camera.]

FRIEND.  We’re here. Pretty lively isn’t it?
PHOTOGRAPHER. It’s perfect. So solemn and mysterious. I have been dying to take photos of a graveyard for ages.
FRIEND. Why again did we have to drive all the way up to the mountains to find a cemetery?
PHOTOGRAPHER. Well the Mountain View Cemetery gives me the creeps.
FRIEND. [Laughs.]
PHOTOGRAPHER. [Moves and looks around.] It’s just weird. A gas station across the street, housing developments on the other.  It’s right in the middle of everything and you can’t avoid driving by it. [Pause. Starts taking photos of the tombstones and moves about the stage.] Plus I wouldn’t feel right taking photos there. You know? Because people’s loved ones are buried there…and they still are remembered and mourned.
FRIEND. Yeah, I guess I see what you mean. [Pause.]  Amber’s little sister is buried there.
PHOTOGRAPHER.  Or like those two girls and that guy from high school that died in that car crash on Ninth Street last year.

[PHOTOGRAPHER kneels down to read the epithet tombstone.]

PHOTOGRAPHER. “Our Beloved Emma, Darlin we miss thee.  Age 11 months.” [Moves on to another tombstone and reads.] “Here lies our beloved Sgt. Samuel Taylor. Husband Father Friend. Forever in our hearts.” [Pause.]  The people buried in this cemetery lived in times so much different from ours. I think that is why it doesn’t bother me to be in old cemeteries. [Stands up.] In new cemeteries it is creepy because its like, “Oh there’s that one guy who got shot at the bar, or there’s the person who fell into the river and drowned.” It’s like all the tombstones shout out to me, “This will be you!” It reminds me of my own mortality and I fear it. [Pause.] Here…it’s easier to reflect on these people’s lives because they resemble stories.  Each a fragment of a long past time.  It’s hard to imagine how they live…and died.

FRIEND. Never really thought of it that way.
[The light starts to dim a bit.]
FRIEND. It is getting late. We should go and head back. I don’t want to drive back down in the dark.
PHOTOGRAPHER. [Sighs and snaps one last photo while moving towards the RIGHT.]

[Both exit to the RIGHT.]

[As the main light dims a voice is heard.]
VOICE. Too often we think ourselves invincible and we learn too late that we were wrong.  Time is an infinite expansion and each of our lives is but a bit of dust on the long record of humanity.  Fear your own mortality and do great things with the moments you are given.

[A light now focuses on the tree. A tombstone now is lit that was before in shadows. It is newer than the others. It reads.]

“Our Beloved Friend and Artist. Died April 8th, 2005.”

[Curtin Falls.]