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​Words By A Fiery Fairy
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Coffee, And The Writing That Follows...

'Losing Hope' - A Play Part 5.

8/11/2020

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HOPE: (to the audience) 
       I know a thing or two about psychopaths. I lived with my dad for about eighteen years before he tried to kill me and got into prison for it. Well, he went to prison because he killed three other people: Some homeless guy, someone he worked with in construction, and... my mom. He talked about it for years before he finally went ahead and did it. It was all a joke at first, talking about how he'd like to hurt her, chop her head off, dismember her body. Just like Mickey here. It wasn't a big deal. He just threw those words up in the air like they were nothing. I thought it was nothing. 'I was naive' the cops said. 'Nobody imagines people to be so vile' they said. Well, I may be a hippie weird wallflower but I'm not naive. Not anymore. And Mickey talkin' about ways to die.... pretty messed up if you ask me. 

MICKEY: (to the audience)
         Did I say the wrong thing? I have a feeling I messed things up. Always do that with the ladies! My mouth is just...like a savage old bull that refuses to be tamed. I mean, when I was quiet I swear to god I think she liked me. The looks she gave me, the body language, all open and sweet...we hugged for like, ETERNITY. And now all of the sudden I'm getting some feeling like she just wants to go away. Leave me stranded here, and go off in her fucking adorable truck. Knew it was too good to be true...'My goddess love of my life woman comes to my rescue like an angel, saving my life and we go off and get married or whatever, hell we even have babies and shit, and live happily ever after.' My old man always said I live in my head, make up stories, imagine shit that can't happen. 'Naive' he called me. He called me naive.

HOPE: (to the audience)
        I could just call someone. I got my phone in the car charging. I could call Sam and Linda from the campsite. They're only thirty miles away. I tell them this guy needs help, but I'm scared because I'm a woman traveling alone...and maybe they'll, they'll come help out. And I'll just buy some time 'till they get here. Or I could just leave. But... I don't know, it feels. Like, it feels like the wrong thing to do. 

MICKEY: Hey, did I...did I say something wrong? 
HOPE: What? No. All good, man. 
            (to the audience)
           What is he like a psychic too!? A psychic psychopath. Woah. You'd think he'd go places much higher than this dump over here. like... Wall street, or politics.
MICKEY: Because, I...I sometimes talk funny when I'm nervous. 
HOPE: Yeah? I mean. Like, why are you nervous?
MICKEY: I don't know you, you don't know me. I'm not so good at first impressions. But you're excellent at them! At first impressions. See, I talk funny. Can't help myself. It's like my mind goes numb or something'.... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
HOPE: Don't apologize, you're fine! Everybody gets nervous.
MICKEY: You too?
HOPE: I'm nervous right now.
MICKEY: Why's that?
HOPE: I did just cry into a fire and made it go away with my tears. It was... a lot. I'd say that's about the closest I had to a mystical experience, you know? 
MICKEY: (to the audience)
          THANK GOD! It's not me. She DOES like me. We WILL get married and have babies and live happily ever after and shit! Who you callin' naive dad!? I gotta, gotta be on my A game now. Whatever that is.
             (to Hope)
          Must be, uh, must be an overwhelmin' experience. 
HOPE: (to the audience)
      I'm pretty sure he's studying me right now, priming me, so he could kidnap me and lock me in a basement somewhere. He must be really good at it, because, like, I almost... it's like...I BELIEVE him. 
           (to Mickey)
        It is. I think I may need to, um, breathe a little before I drive again.. get grounded. I know! I'll do yoga.
MICKEY: Right, right now? 
HOPE: All we have is now. 
MICKEY: My God, you are so beautiful.
​(Pause)
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I mean what you said is...so beautiful.

Hope blushes and heads to the truck to get her yoga mat and her PHONE.

To be continued...

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    Author

    In April 2020, while experiencing  her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig  pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling.

    What evolved is a collection of short stories, poems, life lessons, blurbs and even a play or two.  

    If you find her lil' life lessons and imaginative storytelling enjoyable or useful - please comment and share!

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