Drama Script – The Sumptuousness of Being

Characters

Amy : is an young girl who lives in the attic of her father’s house. Her teachers assume that the girl’s social inadequacies are a result of her mother’s death but the real reason is that Amy is molested by her father at home, in the solace of her own bedroom. As a coping mechanism, she retreats into a fantasy world. She pretends that she is a princess living in a tower, awaiting her rescue.

Amy’s Father : is a middle-aged man who lives alone with his daughter. He has not been the same since the death of his wife. Amy’s Father knows that what he does to his child is wrong. He wishes that she would run away, make another life on her own somewhere, so he would not be tempted.

Amy’s Mother : drowned years ago. She is beautiful and wise and still visits her daughter, though it is not established whether she is actually a ghost or the figment of Amy’s vivid imagination.

Abigail : is Amy’s porcelain doll, who comes to life in the young girl’s moments of need. She isn’t entirely real but is a great comfort. Abigail is an exact replica of the miniature doll that sits on Amy’s bed; golden ringlets, rosy cheeks and a mauve dress. She is mute but very expressive and her purpose appears to be simply a listener to Amy’s fantasies.

Setting

The entire play takes place in Amy’s room. A mattress lies against the wall on stage left, next to a rug. A small doll sits on the unmade bed. An end table at stage right holds her violin and photographs of her mother. Stage right, there is an antique vanity desk with a mirror above it. The desk has large drawers containing cotton balls and a chipped tea set. There is a bookshelf holding her oversized children’s classics. A shuttered window is embedded in the wall of stage left. A large stain is on the wall upstage. A tin kettle lies on the rug, seemingly out of place until it begins to “rain” and fill with water.

Plot

The play highlights three days in Amy’s life. In each day, she arrives home from school, plays the violin, and is abused by her father. After each scene of abuse she retreats into her make-believe world and eventually falls asleep. Her mother visits her in her dreams.

On the third night, Amy’s Father climbs the stairs and shuts her curtains. His weight on her is hard to dream away but finally it’s over and he leaves. The scene that I have written takes place immediately after this. Amy begun her ascent into madness years ago but this scene shows her unique coping technique.

Amy brings her doll Abigail to life and proceeds to describe a number of things which aren’t actually there. At the end, she pulls the head off Abigail in childish play. What happens after this scene is that she cries and calls for her mother, like any little girl would. Only, her mother does not come to her aid. She looks up at her reflection, seeing the shutters behind her. In a fit, she smashes the mirror and proceeds to die of blood loss, hallucinating the entire time. Amy’s Mother is waiting to meet her and the moment is both warm and sad at the same time.

Amy in the Attic

Amy sits centre stage, on her rug. The dying footsteps offstage show that Amy’s Father has just left the room. Amy is sniffing and hunched over. She is in her underwear, her school uniform in a neat pile beside the mattress. She dresses slowly and a visible change comes over her.

Amy: (Relieved.) The Wizard, he has gone. (Pause.) It’s safe to come alive now, Abigail. (There is another, longer pause as she looks at the motionless doll lying face-down on her mattress.) Abigail! (Scared.) Come now, wake up! I have so much to show you. (Closes her eyes tightly in concentration.)

A girl, the exact replica of the doll, steps out from offstage left, rubbing her eyes.

Amy: Oh Abigail! (She places the doll on her bed, forgotten, and hugs the girl.) You gave me such a fright. Come, look what my sweetheart has given me!

Amy pulls Abigail over to her schoolbag and they both crouch down. She proceeds to pull out a handful of pigeon feathers.

Amy: Peacock feathers! Aren’t they beautiful? (Boasting.) Romeo’s gift to me. He is waiting just beneath my balcony, you see.

Abigail gets up excitedly, as if to open the shutters and look out the window.

Amy: (Shouting, frightened.) No Abigail, you mustn’t!

Abigail stops, confused.

We cannot look out the window. I’ve a curse on me, you see. (Sadly.) The wicked Wizard, he closes these shutters each night. If I was to look upon the world right now, why, I would surely die!

Abigail covers her mouth in shock and looks concerned, bowing her head in a small apology. Amy stands and walks towards her vanity desk at stage right. She sits.

Amy: (Quietly, looking into the mirror.) She came to me again last night, Abigail. The Queen. She is ever so beautiful!

Abigail sits next to the miniature version of herself on Amy’s mattress, listening intently. Amy becomes irritated.

Please don’t ruffle the sheets on my four-poster bed. I dare say they took quite a while for the servants to press.

Abigail hangs her head in shame and stops fidgeting. Amy bites her lip and pulls a packet of cotton balls from a drawer.

Oh now, don’t be like that. Here, have a chocolate truffle. They’re delicious.

Abigail eyes the packet and shakes her head quickly.

Amy: Suit yourself. (She opens the packet and pops a cotton ball in her mouth, closing her eyes in pleasure.) Mmmm. (Her eyes suddenly widen and she sits bolt upright in her chair.) Did you hear that?! Footsteps?

The two listen intently. There is no sound.

Amy: (In a small voice.) I… I thought… (For a moment she sounds like the child she is, frightened and alone. She sniffs haughtily.) Never mind. One of these days, the Queen shall send for me. That wretched man shall be sorry then. (Bitter.) Oh, he has a fancy turn of phrase. His proper language fools them all. He plays on their sympathy. But (Emphasises.) she will see right through it, my Queen. (She falters, becoming aware that her mother and father were once married and very much in love.) I will…umm... Abigail?

Her large doll points to a large stain on the wall, by way of a distraction.

Amy: Oh, the tapestry! (She stands and walks over to the stain. In awe.) Such colours! The deepest purple gold. Thank you Abigail, how can I be forlorn with such beauty around me? This tower may be remote, but it contains wonders beyond anything outside.

Abigail looks around at the dismal room, one eyebrow raised. The sound of rain begins, and a steady drip from the ceiling falls into strategically placed kettle on the ground.

Amy: (Exclaims.) Rain! And with Sir Lance-a-lot outside, beneath my window. (Becomes confused.) Or was it Romeo…? (She listens to the rain for a moment.) Hear that, Abigail?

Abigail nods obediently.

Amy: (Dreamily.) Rain evokes the senses in a way that no other thing does. The smell, those spores in the air. (Pauses.) If you listen to it long enough everything else sounds like a lie. And the taste… (Her eyes fall to the teapot and a mischievous smile lights her face.) Would you like some tea, Abigail?

Abigail’s eyes widen and she shakes her head furiously. Amy pulls a dusty children’s tea set from another drawer of her vanity desk. Her eyes glint playfully as she sits cross-legged on her rug, patting the ground in front of her. Abigail simply stares at her, not wanting to drink the dirty water.

Amy: (Narrows her eyes.) Sit! I order you, as heir to the throne!

Abigail doesn’t move. Amy whines.

Oh come on. Why can’t you play tea parties like a proper doll?

Abigail sits reluctantly and Amy claps her hands, excited.

Amy: Good girl. (She pours two cups of rainwater. She’s pleased.) I’ll be Alice, and you’re the Mad Hatter!

Abigail: Hmph! (Folds her arms.)

Amy: (Grinning.) Curiouser and curiouser! (Takes a sip.) Why, this tea is marvellous. What is it spiced with, dear Hatter? (Sniffs it.) Whatever it is, it’s wonderful. (A pause. Playfully.) What’s the matter, Mad Hatter? No riddles for me today?

Abigail sits in sullen silence.

Amy: (Concerned.) Won’t you drink your tea? It shall go cold, you silly thing! (Her eyes narrow slightly but her smile grows wider.) If you won’t play properly, Abigail, I will be forced to do something drastic… like order… (Shouts gleefully.) OFF WITH HER HEAD! (Giggles.) Off with her head!!

Abigail begins to look concerned about Amy’s mood. Amy jumps up, dropping her teacup to the ground. She happily chants “off with her head” as she skips over to her bed and begins to jump on it. Abigail follows her, fear in her eyes at Amy’s madness.

Amy: (Shrieking happily.) OFF WITH HER HEAD!! OFF WITH HER HEAD! (She picks up the doll on her bed and pulls its head off, laughing madly.)

Abigail falls to the ground, her upper half offstage left. She doesn’t move. Amy’s laughter dies slowly as she looks at the decapitated doll in her hands.

Amy: Abigail? Abigail? (She tries desperately to reattach body to head.) I’m sorry, Abby! Wake up! (Sniffs, beginning to cry.) I’ll let you wear my… wear my pearls. I’ll let you keep them, promise! (Pleading.) Just, wake up… you don’t have to drink the tea…

The doll doesn’t wake, and Amy slumps to the floor, weeping. Her only friend is dead, torn to pieces by her own loving hand. The steady drip of rainwater continues to fall into the teacup. Lights dim.