62
(JO fidgets uncomfortably as CYNTHIA wills her
consciousness to slip away.
Fade slowly to blackout.)
SCENE 3:
The same grassy hill, but it has changed. Instead of lush
green the grass is brown, all the flowers are gone and the
tree has lost all it's leaves. The once blue sky is now
the boiling grey of a storm shutting out the sun so that only
occasional flashes of lightning split the semi-darkness.
There is no singing of the birds, only the sound of thunder
and the eerie howling of the chill wind blowing.
The BOY is nowhere to be seen.
CYNTHIA stands, stunned and looks about in dismay and more
than a little fear.
CYNTHIA: (calling out) Hello...Where are you?...What's
happened here?
(Only the howl of the wind and a thunderclap
answer her.
Panic rising she runs up to the top of the
little hill, to the tree, casting her eyes desperately
about.)
CYNTHIA: (Calling out) Where are you? Please, I'm scared.
You said you'd always be here...I...I don't even
know your name.
(CYNTHIA backs hard up against the tree and her
arm brushes against a discharge of sap. She feel
it and turns to look at the trunk.
Freshly carved into the trunk and bleeding red
sap is a heart and the words "TRYSTAN LOVES THE
PRETTY LADY".
CYNTHIA chokes back tears.)
CYNTHIA: (reading aloud) Trystan loves the pretty lady.
(pause, to herself) Trystan...What have I done?
(screams) Trystan! Trystan, what's happening?
Please come to me. Where are you? I need you!
(From behind her, the BOY, TRYSTAN, enters.
He is pale, coughing and shivering, his
exhausted body hunched forward. His clothes and hair is
dripping wet. He stands for a second, unsteady on his feet,
gathering up his last reserves of strength. In
his arms he holds the limp, lifeless body of
CUMZEN. When he speaks his voice is weak and strained.)
