Epitaph
I've been writing one-minute plays for over a decade, many which have been performed by Gi60, a company that produces an international festival devoted to the form. I'm closing in on a collection of 99 of my mini-theatrical epics, that will be self-published by Playfield, an indie imprint I'm launching with my wife Gayle later this year. Epitaph is my latest.
ONE-MINUTE PLAYS#NEWPLAYTHEATRE
The CONDEMNED stands facing the audience. Seated nearby, holding a stopwatch they never lose sight of, is the TIMEKEEPER.
C
A man has one minute to live.
T
Actually, 57 seconds.
C
What does he do?
T
54.
C
Does he find love?
Write his epitaph?
Jerk it furiously?
T
Please don’t.
C
Maybe he places hand to chest, his heart a bird seeking escape.
T
44 seconds.
C
Or drinks a tall, cool glass of water. Splashes some on his face.
T
We have no water. (Beat) 40 seconds.
C
Does he scream?
T
37.
C
In his deliberations, he loses precious time.
T
31.
C
He thinks of wasted moments; what could’ve been.
Will you hold my hand?
T
No. 24 seconds.
C
No matter, we all die alone.
What do other people do?
T
You don’t want to know. 18.
C
I could smash the clock.
T (Offers stopwatch to C)
It changes nothing.
C
I could kill you.
T
There’s not enough time. 12 seconds.
C
What a gruesome job you have.
T
It’s a living. 7.
C
Maybe his life could be a message, a warning, no, a plea for others. To live, every day to its–
The TIMEKEEPER clicks the stopwatch,
LIGHTS OUT.