Words: Frey Black (He/Him)
That wig. It would be mine. I would care for it, treasure it. (Mournfully) She made a regretful collateral.
Scene: A large, frail wardrobe sits to the right of the stage. A small pink velvet stool is also placed in the centre. In front of it, there is a large, decaying vanity. Upon this, a mirror, which holds no reflection of the figure in front of it.
Upon the stool sits a nonchalant, masculine figure. This is the VAMPIRE. It wears a long black robe, which fails to obscure its mass. Despite its hefty qualities, this figure moves very cat-like. It is staring at the audience. Gestures and movements are deliberate, but few and far between. It has a charming yet scathing quality to its voice, often falling into an iciness (it begins as such).
VAMPIRE:
It wasn’t so much a transformation. I was interrupted. (Softening) I hadn’t become anything but suspended. My hair no longer grew; lines didn’t appear round my smile. The passage of time does not mar my, nor other’s, perception: it remains crystalline. I feel myself pouncing on the intricacies of my figure (releasing the stare, it turns to the reflectionless mirror), the disgust, the grief, the stagnant corpus. The sleekness of a killer did not penetrate my clumsy and … Bulky … Physique. My teeth barely elongated. Actually, they hang a bit lower. Superior in function only. (Turning to the audience abruptly and smiling) They work well.
(Sighing) I had a notion that when I got a bit more money, I’d buy myself a wig. Human hair, an orange red; parted to one side; with finger waves reaching half-way down my chest. I never got it though… My affliction makes employment difficult (Smiles).
I keep to the shadows. Alleyways work best. I saw a lady. She was farcical: she had chalked her face white to hide her maturity, and thin, arched, eyebrows about half an inch above where, I suspect, they were meant to go. She wore a gaudy, faux-silken corset with tiny pink bows. She was ravishing. (Indifferently) She was arguing with a man about a tip; when he stormed away, she grabbed her – ragged black – hair and swept it away with her talons.
(It excitedly sits up a tad) That wig. It would be mine. I would care for it, treasure it. (Mournfully) She made a regretful collateral. (Impassioned) I was enamoured by her. She succeeded where I could not. An outstanding mirage of femininity. Her murder was greedy. Although, I felt hers was a worthy case to study. So, I dragged her here.
Smiling, the Vampire kicks the wardrobe open, and the woman slumps out onto the stage.
Unfazed, the Vampire leans over and delicately removes the wig, smoothing it over Its cheek and neck before cradling it to Its chest.
VAMPIRE:
I felt it belonged on me. (It begins combing the wig through Its hands) It isn’t my colour – or length – but I feel it is indebted to me.
VAMPIRE fastens the wig to Its head, smoothing it down with Its palms.
The reflection on the mirror only shows the wig floating and moving around Its invisible head – It turns to admire the wig in the mirror. Smiling in satisfaction.
VAMPIRE begins posing in the mirror despite receiving no reflection. This continues for a while, becoming increasingly agitated until It abruptly lunges towards the limp neck of the woman.
It slowly moves back to Its position on the stool revealing copious amounts of blood trailing down its fingers.
VAMPIRE then gently pats the blood over Its lips, turning to the audience as It sucks the rest off of its index finger, then, finally, ring finger. It grins and faces the mirror again. The dark wig now frames round a vacant oval with a pair of ruby red lips at the lower centre.
VAMPIRE (grinning):
This is what I lost. (The grin turns to a frown. It turns to the audience, Its speech adopting a venom)
Everything I had, everything I did was for this future (It points at the mirror, then speaks softly) But it never came… I- (It turns to face the mirror once more. Blood trails from Its eyes, resembling tears) I think I would have loved this.
It sits, gazing at Its reflection in the mirror.
All stage lights go dark except for one spotlight on the vanity.
The scene ends on the reflected image of the wig, lips, and now bloody, teary, eyes; which drip down the curves of Its face and neck; unveiling the visage of a woman.
BLACKOUT
