Snow in Florida | Teen Ink

Snow in Florida

December 8, 2014
By Princess.Renda GOLD, Travelers Rest, South Carolina
Princess.Renda GOLD, Travelers Rest, South Carolina
14 articles 0 photos 159 comments

Favorite Quote:
"All the world is made of faith, trust, and pixie dust." --J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


Florida, outside, Christmas Eve, late at night


Alice-23 year old girl, whose parents are both dead, (in a fire, not a cliche at all). She brings them pumpkin pie every Christmas and eats a slice by their graves. Dressed in mostly black.


Arthur-80 year old dude, never married, lives alone. Brother died of cancer in his 30’s. He also visits his grave every Christmas. Dressed for the season.







ACT 1:

(Arthur is hobbling along like the oldie he is across the stage. Alice rushes in carrying her pie with a bag on her shoulder, not looking where she’s going and bumps into Arthur. What a jerk.)


Alice: (mumbles) Sorry....(continues walking)


Arthur: Excuse me.


Alice: (ignores him and continues, reaching the other side of the stage and turns to cross again, giving the illusion of a long walkway, hopefully, maybe not, who knows.)


Arthur: I said, excuse me.


Alice: (stops walking) What?


Arthur: Where are you going in such a hurry?


Alice: How is that any of your business?


Arthur: My curiosity is of your business, therefore it is my business.


Alice: That...That made no sense.


Arthur: I am an old man, sense is no friend of mine.


Alice: Right, well, I have to go.


Arthur: Where?


Alice: Somewhere.


Arthur: Out there?


Alice: What?


Arthur: Over the rainbow?


Alice: Its midnight, there are no rainbows, let alone a sun to make them.


Arthur: Where bluebirds fly?


Alice: (stares at him blankly)


Arthur: (shakes head) What do they teach you in schools these days?


Alice: Math, English, Science, you know, sane things.


Arthur: Are you implying something?


Alice: Are you inferring something?


Arthur: I am inferring what you are implying.


Alice: And I’m leaving. (beings walking again)


Arthur: Where are your parents? You can’t be any older than a teenager.


Alice: (bitterly) I’m old enough to take care of myself.


Arthur: It’s Christmas Eve, there’s no need to be so harsh.


Alice: Yeah, its Christmas Eve, and I’m expected somewhere.


Arthur: So am I. It looks like you are going in the same direction as I am ...Perhaps you would like to accompany an old man through the snow?


Alice: Its Florida....


Arthur: If you don’t walk with me, I might get ill, or lose my way, or even die.


Alice: I doubt you’ll be dying anytime soon, and the only thing you’re losing are your marbles.


Arthur: (laughs) Oh, my dear, I lost those long before you were born.


Alice: Right, well, good luck finding them. (walks across the stage)


Arthur: (sighs and starts coughing horribly, falling to his knees)


Alice: (turns back and goes to Arthur) Sir? Sir, are you alright?


Arthur: I’m dying! Help--(coughs again)


Alice: Sir?!


Arthur: (cough turns into a laugh) See? I told you I would die without an escort.


Alice: You are the most ridiculous old man I have ever met. (helps Arthur up)


Arthur: You should have met my brother, he was quite the trickster. Sadly for him, he died when we were younger...You would have like him.


Alice: How did he die?


Arthur: I’ll tell you all about him on the way. (beings walking)


Alice: Where? (follows him)


Arthur: His grave of course. I usually visit him Christmas morning, but I thought I would surprise him a few hours early.


Alice: The Brookwood Cemetery?


Arthur: That's the one.


Alice: That's where my parents are too.


Arthur: Are they the people you are going to visit?


Alice: Every year since they died four years ago.


Arthur: Why do you go so late?


Alice: No one else is around then.


Arthur: I’m sorry to spoil your visit.


Alice: No, its fine. My parents would have liked you.


Arthur: Is that for them? (gestures to the pie)


Alice: It was their favorite.


Arthur: Your parents are very lucky to have a daughter like you.


Alice: (laughs sadly) Not really.


Arthur: Nonsense.


Alice: I’ve done some pretty terrible stuff.


Arthur: I bet I’ve done worse.


Alice: (laughs) Try me.


Arthur: When I was little, I cut a hole in the butt of all of my father’s pants before he went to work.


Alice: I once skipped school to go to an amusement park with my boyfriend, only to have him break up with me a week later.


Arthur: I ruined my brother’s car before he went on a date.


Alice: I’m responsible for my parent’s death.


Arthur: (stops walking).....What?


Alice: (stops a few steps ahead, turns back to look at him) I screwed up, and they died because of it.


Arthur: I’m so sorry to hear that.


Alice: Don’t be. Its my burden to bear. Oh look, we’re here. (walks a little faster to parent’s grave)


Arthur: (walks up next to her to his brother’s grave, next to her parents)


Alice: Hi Mom, hey Dad.


Arthur: (walks to the grave next to her parents’, his brother’s grave) Hello, Fred. I would like you to meet this fine young woman, Miss...


Alice: Williams. Alice Williams. Hello, Fred. I see you’ve already met my parents. (sets pie down by the grave, pulling out a knife from her bag)


Arthur: (startled, steps away) Uhm...


Alice: Its for the pie...


Arthur: Right. I knew that. (sits by Fred’s grave)


Alice: Do you and Fred want some? (pulls out plates and forks from her bag also)


Arthur: We would be delighted.


Alice: (slices pie and lays it on a plate for Arthur, then grabes a napkin out of her bag, handing both to Arthur) Here you go.


Arthur: Thank you, Mary Poppins.


Alice: What?


Arthur: Dear girl, you really must read more books.


Alice: My parents had a lot of books, but they-(stops for a moment, collecting herself) They burned in the fire. My mother was reading aloud Peter Pan when it happened. My father was acting out Captain Hook, and our dog was Peter. Dad always loved acting out the books Mom read. She-- (begins to cry)


Arthur: (lets her cry for a moment, passing her his napkin)


Alice: (turns to face her parents’ graves) I’m so sorry, Mom and Dad! I never meant to--(cries harder) It’s all my fault!


Arthur: Don’t talk like that. It wasn’t your fault, you-


Alice: But it is! We had a huge fight, we were all yelling at each other and I told them I hated them and locked myself in my room. That night there was a fire and they were so tired from the fight, and the smoke alarms didn’t wake them, I thought they were out of the house, but when the fire men came it was too late. If I wasn’t such an idiot--


Arthur: Now stop this. You cannot blame yourself. The fire was probably a faulty electric wire, and bad smoke alarms. Every child gets into a fight with their parents, it’s normal.


Alice: (wipes away tears, calmer now) The last thing I said to them was that I hated them...And now they are gone, and I don’t even know if they can hear me say ‘I love you’ now.


Arthur: My mother used to tell me love is something you say with your heart, not your words. Even if you told them you hate them, your heart was bursting with love, and they knew that.


Alice: You think so?


Arthur: A lie takes more energy than I have left, besides, would you rather believe that or the thought of your parents thinking you still hate them?


Alice: Well when you put it that way...


Arthur: That’s what old men are for, my dear.


Alice: (starts cleaning up pumpkin pie trash and such) Thank you for tonight. I have to go now, but it was nice to meet you....?


Arthur: Arthur.


Alice: Nice to meet you Arthur, and Fred. (gets up to leave, holding out a hand to shake Arthur’s)


Arthur: You’re going to abandon me again here in this snow?


Alice: (sighs at this crazy basket case, dropping her hand) Do you want to come with me to see the lights?


Arthur: I would be delighted. (Gets up and together they walk off stage)

ACT 2:

(One year later, Arthur is by the graves, laying out plates, napkins and forks by each one, and Alice comes on stage behind him, carrying a pie and a cooler.)


Alice: (sets pie down by grave and grabs a snowball out of her cooler) Merry Christmas, Arthur. (throws snowball at him)


The author's comments:

This is my frist script, no hate please DX

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