The Pact (A Short Play)
Last month, I introduced a series on the website called Unproduced Scripts: The Ones That Didn’t Make it. There are two so far, Good Things and High Ceilings, which you can check out - and I’d be grateful if you did!
After deciding to put out scripts for that I’d written that didn’t make it to screen (and most likely wouldn’t) for people to read, it got me thinking about some of the ones I’ve written that have in some form made it to the screen or stage. I’ve written a number of short scripts over the years, some of which have made it onto the stage as part of short play nights, work-in-progress nights or scratch nights. Some have formed part of the Toasted Fiction Theatre podcast whilst others have been made into short films or short sketches.
So I figured, along with the Unproduced Scripts series (which admittedly, I hope isn’t a long running series on here - ye know, I want to get some produced), I’d start a series called Produced Scripts: The Ones That Made It…
These are all scripts that have been made or produced in some form and are stories that I really like and circle back to often, either to develop, submit to opportunities or produce.
They are stories in there own right that can be simply enjoyed as that. But if you have an interest in writing - plays, screenplays or otherwise - it might be interesting to read some. I daresay, it might even help!
So, first up is a short play I wrote called The Pact. The play is a self-contained story, but also forms part of a larger piece - some days it’s a two act play, some days it’s a novel, some day’s it’s a collection of short stories. It’s a sort-of-apocalyptic drama set in a world not unlike our own but with some unspoken global event having changed it. And aye, I wrote it a long time ago, so if yer feeling a bit gloomy about current things, feel free to skip it. But if you like this kind of thing, dig in.
In a large part, it was my attempt to write something with the flavour of early episode of The Walking Dead or a Sam Shepherd-esque play. There’s a short playlist on Spotify - that you can find here - to read along with if you like, which might contribute to the atmosphere the story is trying to capture.
It’s featured as part of the Tron Theatre’s Progressive Playwright and InMotion Theatre’s ReWrite events. It’s also one of two lost episodes of the Toasted Fiction Theatre podcast.
Anyway, without further ado, dig in. And if you read it and enjoy it? Leave a comment, or get in touch on the socials!
Enjoy
Cx
The stage is minimal and dimly lit. It’s set up to look like a barn on a farm in the middle of nowhere, so there isn’t all that much it could contain...
...A few wooden crates lie upstage and some bits of hay are scattered along the floor. Also dotted about are some workman’s tools. A wrench, spanner, that sort of thing...
...The only sound that can be heard is a howling wind and a battering rain. The kind of wind and rain that feels like it can move buildings.
A large wooden door BANGS....Wood CREAKS.....It’s slightly eerie.
The sound of a large wooden door creaking open can be heard, and all of a sudden the WIND and the RAIN gets louder. We hear a man’s voice offstage.
GARETH: (OFF STAGE)
Come on, in here. Jane hurry. Get in and help me get these doors closed afore we lose them.
We hear the door SLAM shut, and a BOLT drawn across it. A moment passes, the wind and the rain quiet down, and two people enter. They’re both a soaked to the bone and then some, water drips off them, staining the barn floor.
The first to enter is GARETH MITCHELL. He’s has a sharp movement about him. The type of guy to get to where he wants to go without stopping to take in the view. But there’s something underneath the surface, always there. Bubbling.
The second is the polar opposite. JANE MITCHELL, the older of the two, is slow moving, delibarate and thoughtful. She would happily never reach her destination, if she knew were it was, if it meant she could take the scenic route.
Both have cloth rucksacks, and are dressed roughly, almost like they’ve been wearing the same stuff for days or weeks. Nothing fancy, just simple. It’s whatever will cover them and keep them warm.
Gareth heads for the crates and pulls them DOWNSTAGE. He immediately begins to set up camp. Setting two crates out for chairs, one for a table. He starts to empty some tins out of the rucksack and a couple spoons.
Meanwhile, Jane is looking around at the barn in awe, like it’s a palace.
When they speak, we hear language we are used to, but it’s just a little off. A little strange. A little otherworldly. They speak with Scottish accents, but there’s a combination with the affectations of Southern American English. It’s another product of this changed world, different to our own. Familiar, but unfamiliar. Gareth is first to speak.
GARETH:
You alright?
JANE:
I’m good, ain’t nothing but a little water baby brother.
GARETH:
Little water. Sure. We’re lucky we found this in time or we’d be swimming like the rest of the poor bastards out there. You hungry?
JANE:
Look at this place Gareth. Would you just look at this place? It’s beautiful.
GARETH:
It’ll do for the night, least while there’s a storm like that outside. (Holds hand out) Rucksack.
Jane hands over the rucksack without even looking. Gareth takes a couple towels out. He starts drying himself off.
GARETH:
Take this dry yourself off.
Without looking, Jane takes the towel. She slowly starts to dry herself while looking up.
JANE:
Thanks. You ever seen a place like this? It’s so big.
GARETH:
Yep. Has a roof and everything.
JANE:
Look at these beams Gareth. The size of them. Imagine trying to get them up there. How’d you think they managed it? I’ve never seen ladders the size that would reach up there.
GARETH:
It’s a shack, sister, not a palace. Nothing more.
JANE:
Who do you think lives here?
GARETH:
Nobody but us tonight.
JANE:
Well alright then.
Jane continues to admire her surroundings. Gareth considers her a moment, a little concerned.
GARETH:
Jane?
JANE:
Yeah?
GARETH:
You gonna sit down and eat something? Please?
JANE:
Sure. (Pause) Think we can ever have a place like this little brother? For real? With big beams and all?
GARETH:
I’m sure as all hell we’ll find somewhere permanent one day, but it’s not gonna happen on an empty stomach and it’s not gonna happen tonight. Now eat.
Jane sits next to Gareth on the crate. Both take up their tins, open them and start to shovel food in there mouths.
They sit like this for a few moments, just eating. Nothing but the wind and the rain breaking the silence between them.
Gareth shovels the rest of his down, and places the tin back. He watches his sister a moment, who’s concentrating on eating. Slow.
GARETH:
Pass me the rucksack over Jane.
JANE:
What for?
GARETH:
I want to check the gun, keep it on me.
JANE:
What you plan on shooting, the hay?
GARETH:
No, but my bet is we’re not the only one looking for shelter and if anyone else walks through those doors they’re not walking back out.
JANE:
Don’t talk like that, it scares me when you talk like that.
GARETH:
Sorry. (Pause) Jane, where’s the photograph? Do you have it?
JANE:
I do, and I’m not giving it to you.
GARETH:
Please. I just want to look.
JANE:
You said you weren’t going to do that more Gareth. You promised in fact.
GARETH:
I’m forgetting how she looks Jane. That ain’t right. A man, no a husband, shouldn’t forget what his wife looks like. It just ain’t right. No matter how much time passes.
JANE:
Just torturing yourself. That’s all it is you’re doing.
GARETH:
Oh just leave me be. Go back to trying to eat without dribbling it down yourself.
Jane looks wounded. But takes it.
JANE:
That’s alright. Take it out on me, I can handle it.
GARETH:
Sorry. Now come on. That food isn’t going to jump on to your tongue and jump down your throat if you just sit there and stare at it.
JANE:
Good. I’m fed up with these tins. I miss hot food. I miss plates. Food you can chew down, not drink.
GARETH:
It’s all we got.
Silence. Gareth smiles.
GARETH:
Remember the food Alice used to make?
Jane closes her eyes and smiles.
JANE:
Sometimes. If I close my eyes and cover my nose, I can taste her stew.
GARETH:
Oh she made the best stew.
JANE:
Chicken and beans. Dollop of spicy mashed potatoes on the side.
They lick their lips.
GARETH:
Simple and effective.
JANE:
Unlike the man she married.
GARETH:
Ha!
Silence.
GARETH:
Maybe one day I’ll learn to cook like her.
JANE:
I ain’t holding my breath. Nothing can beat Alice’s Chicken and Bean Stew. What was it she used to call it? That fancy word she used?
Gareth smiles, remembering. He clears his throat.
GARETH:
It ain’t a stew boys, it’s a casserole. Stew’s something your Grandma makes you. Casserole’s a gift from a lady.
JANE:
That was it! Casserole. That was the fancy word she used to describe it.
Jane laughs, slapping her knee. Gareth’s smile fades.
GARETH:
I miss her something awful Jane. Something rotten.
JANE:
I know. So do I.
GARETH:
Looked after you much better than I could. Looked after the both of us.
JANE:
I know.
Gareth looks at his sister.
GARETH:
How long’s it been?
JANE:
A while.
GARETH:
Some days it feels like no time at all. Some days it feels like all the time in the world.
JANE:
I know.
GARETH:
Did you see her last breath Jane?
JANE:
Couldn’t see for the water in my eyes. Didn’t want to neither.
GARETH:
It was something Jane. Really something. Came up and circled her head like a halo it did. Then it washed over my face like one final kiss.
JANE:
We could have stayed longer. We didn’t need to go. Not so soon.
GARETH:
I couldn’t. Stunk of the devil and death that place did. She wanted us to keep moving though, just like we had been. Just like we are.
JANE:
Life’s felt a little like a walking funeral since then.
GARETH:
It has. And you know what? My legs are getting tired.
JANE:
Mine too. Things will be OK though. Just wait and see.
GARETH:
I don’t know. There’s a shadow following us Janey. I can feel it.
JANE:
Isn’t nothing but the wind and the rain Gareth. That’s all.
GARETH:
Nah, there’s a shadow. I can feel it itching around up here (taps head) Makes the hair on my neck dance.
JANE:
All I feel is the cold, the hunger and the leg ache. No more no less.
GARETH:
I feel it. The same shadow everyone talks about, ever since the old world died, I felt the change. Then after we lost her...it’s all I can feel. (Pause) It scares me. Doesn’t it scare you?
JANE:
I don’t feel it, I don’t fear it. It’s just your mind is all Gareth.
GARETH:
That’s where it starts, though. You know that.
JANE:
I know. Just don’t see what use it is talking about it or thinking about it more if you don’t want the shadow to catch you and swallow you whole. You saw what it’s done to people. What it did to Alice. Don’t let it do the same to you. Or me for that matter.
GARETH:
Alright. You remember though, what to do, if the shadow becomes too much and I can’t see anymore, you know what to do? The pact, you remember?
JANE:
I do. I don’t want to, but if it makes you sleep better at night, I remember.
GARETH:
Good. Good.
They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the storm outside.
GARETH:
Listen to that out there. Who’d have thought the world would have ended with the wind and the rain?
JANE:
I’m sure if you ask plenty of those bible folk from back home they’d have told you it’d end just like that.
Gareth laughs.
GARETH:
I’m sure they would. I’m more sure they’d just be pissed it didn’t go up in flames with the return of their saviour like they used to sing every Sunday. (Pause) The end of the world does strange things to a man. Such strange things. You remember that Janey?
JANE:
You sure are giving me a lot of things to remember, as dim witted as I am.
GARETH:
I know but remember that.. The end of the world does strange things to a man.
JANE:
Well. It’s a good job the world hasn’t ended though isn’t it.
GARETH:
Hasn’t it?
JANE:
Well maybe it has, but I always figured family was world enough. Long as we’ve got each other it’s not ended. Right?
GARETH:
You got me there, I suppose.
Jane sighs, watching her brother. Gareth sits back down after a beat. Jane goes for another mouthful, revolts at the thought and puts the tin down.
GARETH:
What’s wrong?
JANE:
Nothing. I just don’t like talking about how the world’s ended, that’s all. Never liked the stories about it before it happened and don’t like them now.
GARETH:
Sorry. (Pause) Hey, don’t let it worry you. We can pretend it hasn’t happened tonight, none of it. We’ve got a roof over our head, how often have we been able to say that? And we’ve food. And each other like you said. More than a lot of people we passed on the way. I think we’ll be OK.
JANE:
You think?
GARETH:
I do. I didn’t see any lights on in the big house away from the barn, no car in the drive and no dog barking. I reckon we’ve one the lottery, we can just take this place and make it our own. How does that sound?
JANE:
Sounds great. (Pause) What happens when people we passed on the way want to take this place and make it their own though?
Silence.
GARETH:
Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.
JANE:
OK..
Gareth smiles. Then falls silent.
JANE:
You want to go to sleep now?
No response.
JANE:
Gareth?
GARETH:
You sleep if you want. I’ll be up a while yet, hold on to a good day as long as I can.
JANE:
Tomorrow’ll be a good day too.
GARETH:
Yeah. (Pause) Jane?
JANE:
Yeah?
GARETH:
Don’t say it just to help me sleep better at night. Say it because you mean it. That you remember what to do. The pact.
Jane doesn’t say anything.
JANE:
I don’t want to.
GARETH:
You need to. Just like the one Alice made me make. You remember?
JANE:
Fine. I remember.
She looks at her brother. And nods. Gareth smiles.
GARETH:
Good. Good. Let’s get some sleep.
They both lie down. for sleep.
GARETH:
Night.
JANE:
Night Gareth. Night.
LIGHTS DIM.
LIGHTS UP:
The light turns from dim, moonlight to a yellow, early morning sun colour. Birds are chirping. No sign of the wind or rain.
The two of them are both still sleeping when a man enters, SR.
He’s dressed for a day at work on the farm, is maybe in his 50s or 60s. This is ARCHIE.
He enters, whistling, with a loaf of bread. He stops when he sees the two of them sleeping. He smiles.
ARCHIE:
Well, I’ll be damned.
Archie enters the barn, and approaches Jane and Gareth.. He stands over them.
ARCHIE:
Wake up folks, the rooster’s calling.
Jane stirs, sees the man standing over her and reacts. He taps Gareth who wakes with a start, spots the old man and jumps up, drawing his gun.
Jane closes her eyes.
GARETH:
We don’t want any trouble. Just looking for a place to rest awhile. We’ll be gone in no time at all.
Archie laughs.
ARCHIE:
Woah. No need to look so alarmed, friend. I’m not going to shoot you. Man has a hard enough times trying to make friends without pointing a gun in the face of every stranger who wakes up in his barn. Put that thing away (Pause. Gareth holds him in sight a moment then puts the gun away) What’s up with your sister? She playing dead?
GARETH:
Either that or praying.
ARCHIE:
What’s the difference?
GARETH:
Right. (Pause) Jane, wake up. It’s alright.
ARCHIE:
Mind if I come in and sit?
GARETH:
It’s your place.
ARCHIE:
This is true, but when a man’s had a gun drawn on him in his own home that place of living starts to feel a little less homely.
GARETH:
Force of habit.
ARCHIE:
That’s alright.
GARETH:
Is it? You used to coming in to your barn for a spot of breakfast in the morning and finding two strangers, one pointing a revolver at your head?
ARCHIE:
You’re not the first steel carrying wanderers I’ve come across in my barn and you won’t be the last, so if you’ll excuse me the act of shock horror and surprise at finding you two. It gets tiresome after a half dozen times or so. I find it best just to sit, eat and not ask questinos till you start wandering again.
GARETH:
I see.
ARCHIE:
Good. I’m Archie by the way.
GARETH:
Gareth. This is Jane.
ARCHIE:
Nice to meet you both.
JANE:
Gareth, look. My god. Look at his food. It’ not in a tin Gareth.
GARETH:
I know. I can see that for myself.
JANE:
But it’s not in a tin. Why aren’t you more excited about his non tinned food, come on brother. I’ve forgotten what food without a metal cover looked like, never mind tasted.
Archie looks at them, sees them staring and laughs.
ARCHIE:
You hungry? I don’t mind sharing my breakfast if you want a bit.
Gareth regards him suspiciously.
GARETH:
I’m OK.
JANE:
Oh please Gareth. It’s not in a tin.
GARETH:
Hold your tongue or I’ll cut it out. (to Archie) We’re not hungry.
ARCHIE:
(smiles, looks at Jane)
Your brother’s the suspicious sort, ain’t t he, Jane? (To Gareth) This ain’t laced with anything other than butter, Gareth. (Pause) I don’t mean you and your sister no harm. Far as I’m concerned, a trespasser’s just God’s way of telling me I need some company.
Archie, sits. He breaks off a bit of bread, and offers it to Jane who looks pleadingly to his brother. Gareth nods and Jane wolfs it.
ARCHIE:
Good huh? Was the wife’s recipe. Ain’t quite how she used to make it, but I try my best.
They sit and eat a moment. Gareth is still standing.
ARCHIE:
So, where you two headed?
GARETH:
Nowhere.
ARCHIE:
Just wandering, huh?
GARETH:
Just wandering.
ARCHIE:
Used to do that myself. Used to travel. Till I found this place and, well, I ain’t left it since.
GARETH:
How long you been here?
ARCHIE:
Oh about, 2, 3 years? Real piece of luck, settling here when I did. Just before everything went tits up out there.
Gareth sits, but never takes his eyes off Archie.
JANE:
Thanks, Archie. It’s nice to have food that isn’t wrapped in metal.
ARCHIE:
Thank you. Just a pity your brother’s missing out on all the good taste.
GARETH:
I like my food covered in metal. That way I know where it’s been. Know where it hasn’t.
Archie smiles at Gareth.
ARCHIE:
You aren’t one for strangers are you?
GARETH:
Just like to know a man before breaking bread with him.
Archie stares a moment then nods.
ARCHIE:
I don’t blame you. World as it is, people would sooner shoot you than look at you. Little place like this has been OK so far. We don’t get much trouble, we’re out in nowhere. But scary place this world’s got. Real scary place. The end of the world does strange things to a person.
Jane stops eating and looks at Gareth, who smiles at Archie.
GARETH:
Yes it sure does. You’ll understand why I like to know who I sit down with then.
ARCHIE:
I do. Can’t fault you that.
Jane looks from one to the other. He passes some bread to Gareth.
JANE:
Have some bread Gareth? Come on. It’s nice. Really doughy. Just like we used to have it before.
They stare at each other a moment. Gareth takes a bit and eats it. Archie spreads his arms wide.
GARETH:
Fine. Give me some.
ARCHIE:
There you go! (Archie slaps his knee) Now we’re building bridges!
They all sit and eat a moment, in silence. Gareth and Jane occasionaly exchanging a couple of glances.
GARETH:
This is good.
ARCHIE:
Thank you. Like I said, wife used to make it before....well before she stopped making it.
GARETH:
Sorry to hear that.
ARCHIE:
Ain’t your fault. Nobody’s fault but God and I don’t blame him either. Just the way it is.
JANE:
We lost someone too.
GARETH:
(shoots her a look)
Jane.
JANE:
Sorry.
ARCHIE:
Hey you can talk about it with me. No need for sec-
GARETH:
We aren’t ready to talk about it.
ARCHIE:
Then who am I to pry?
They sit in silence a moment.
ARCHIE:
Where you from?
GARETH:
Little town called Newton
ARCHIE:
I’ve heard of it. It’s a fair bit away from here is it not?
JANE:
Very far.
ARCHIE:
Then you two are real travellers. Kudos to you for surviving this long. I used to be the same. You meet some real characters on the road, huh? I remember this one crazy son of a bitch, this one guy. He was a priest, but he didn’t act like one, least not the way you’d imagine a man of his persuasion should behave. He used to be able to smuggle you anything, from tobacco, drinks to girls. He’d get it into the town under the shadow of the moon and sometimes get it out the same way. Some of the stuff he could get you. Some of the stuff he said he could get you. I swear the dog collar was just for show, give him an easy time with the authorities.I tell you, there’s something about a man of the cloth. They enjoy flirting with the devil as much as a whore like’s her pants round her ankles. (He stops, as Jane flinches at those words) I’m sorry. It’s been some time since I’ve had company. Forgotten the proper decorum of how to talk without offending. My wife did say I always used to shoot my mouth off. (Pause) But she’s gone now. They’ve all gone now, right?
GARETH:
Most of the good ones, yeah.
ARCHIE:
Lose someone close to you?
After a moment.
GARETH:
Wife. Same as you.
ARCHIE:
Sorry to hear that. What took her?
GARETH:
Took her?
ARCHIE:
In my experience, she either got took by the wind and the rain, by some fucker looking for something she had or the shadow that gets most people after the world goes to shit. So what was it? The shadow took mine.
GARETH:
Same here.
ARCHIE:
You make the pact?
GARETH:
You been listening to us?
ARCHIE:
Not at all. I just know this world. You made on with your wife?
JANE:
He did, yeah.
ARCHIE:
Same here. Weird isn’t it? How something so foreign, words that held almost nothing like the meaning they carry now only a few years ago, become part of our everyday vocabularly. A common language between everyone. Shadows. The pact. Crazy huh?
JANE:
It is. I don’t like those words much anymore.
ARCHIE:
No. Shadows are just a quick way of saying people have gone too dark, that can’t cope with this world. Gone bad in the head trying to keep their head above water. And the pact? Well, that’s just a way to keep the shadows from taking over, and getting out of control. Stop us doing something stupid, taking things that don’t belong to us.
JANE:
Saves people from themselves I suppose.
ARCHIE:
(Chuckles) Oh Jane, one thing I’ve learned is that there’s absolutely no saving people from themselves.
He goes back to eating the bread. Gareth is staring at Archie.
GARETH:
You live here alone.
ARCHIE:
Yes.
GARETH:
You get many visitors?
ARCHIE:
Nope. No-one so much as gives a bye or leave. I’m just the world’s forgotten man out here. Just the way I like it most of the time. Some people are better off alone, in one place. Some aren’t. I find letting strangers in isn’t so much a game of chance any more as it is a game of Russian Roulette, know what I mean?
GARETH:
I do.
ARCHIE:
Now, if I were a betting man, and I sure as hell would be if there was anything left to bet on, I’d say the pair of you have got a pact between yourselves, am I right? To stop the shadows taking over? Stop yourselves going too far?
JANE:
Yeah.
ARCHIE:
That’s what strikes me as funny then.
JANE:
Funny?
ARCHIE:
Yeah. Funny. Funny how I’ve sat here for the past couple of minutes and watched your brother’s finger itch for that trigger in his pocket with every question he asks and I’m wondering when you’re going to draw your own on him.
Then, wthout warning, Archie and Gareth both standing and draw on each other. Jane steps up and staggers back a little, shocked.
ARCHIE:
Drop it. Now.
GARETH:
Thought you said it was hard for a man to make friends by pointing a gun in his face.
ARCHIE:
Didn’t think much of the friends I’d made. Drop your gun.
GARETH:
How about you drop yous?
JANE:
Gareth, do as he says. We don’t want any trouble remember.
GARETH:
Who’s making trouble? We’re building bridges together, remember?
ARCHIE:
Like I said Jane. There’s no saving people from themselves.
GARETH:
We’re going to take this barn, this farm and the big house up there and we’re going to live. Right Jane? We’re going to stop walking. No more walking. No more tinned food. No more being tired from the walking. You can have the barn all to yourself, if you want, the palace you think it is, right?
Jane starts to get upset. Holding back the tears.
JANE:
Gareth please. Put it down. We can walk away from this.
ARCHIE:
Listen to your sister.
GARETH:
You shut up. We’re going to take this farm. We’re going to turn things around. We’re going to stop walking, stop just surviving and start living. The world might have closed their eyes, so maybe did Alice. But mines are open. And I see a way out, here Jane. Jane?
JANE:
Don’t think. Don’t ask. Don’t do. That’s what you said. Remember?
GARETH:
What?
JANE:
That’s what you said.
GARETH:
What’d I say?
Tears are streaming Jane’s cheeks. She hangs her head.
JANE:
(barely audible)
I’m sorry.
GARETH:
What?
Jane looks at her brother.
JANE:
I’m sorry.
GARETH:
For what?
JANE:
I’m just doing what you asked. What you made me promise.
GARETH:
What?
JANE:
I’m sorry.
Without hesitation, Jane draws a gun of her own...
She points it at her brother.....
...BANG...
Gareth falls to the ground.
Jane is left trembling and crying and he hangs his head.
Archie slowly lowers his gun, looking from Gareth to Jane.
Archie approcahes Jane, who wipes the tears away.
ARCHIE:
You alright?
Silence.
ARCHIE:
You did what you had to. He’d gone too far into the shadows, it took him over. You made the pact. You did the right thing. It’s alright. He’s alright now.
Silence.
ARCHIE:
Can I get you something? Anything? More bread? Drink?
Silence.
ARCHIE:
I’ll leave you be a while. When you’re ready, come up to the big house. I’ll give you what you need, to be on your way. My girls will prepare a few things and give you some clothes for the road. OK? OK.
Archie leaves.
After a brief moment.
JANE:
The end of the world does strange things to a person. Such strange things..
LIGHTS OUT.