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Constrained Writing[CW] Smash 'Em Up Sunday: Stage EU (self.WritingPrompts)

submitted by Cody_Fox23Skulking Mod | r/FoxFictions

Welcome back to Smash ‘Em Up Sunday!

 

SEUSfire

 

On Sunday morning at 9:30 AM Eastern in our Discord server’s voice chat, come hang out and listen to the stories that have been submitted be read. I’d love to have you there! You can be a reader and/or a listener. Plus if you wrote we can offer crit in-chat if you like!

 

Last Week

 

 

Cody’s Choices

 

 

Community Choice

 

  1. /u/nobodysgeese - Before Transylvania - A prequel to Dracula.

  2. /u/Ryter99 - Check In - Good Omens in 2022.

  3. /u/katpoker666 - A Penguin’s Perspective - A writer of obituaries tours a penguin around to funerals.

 

This Week’s Challenge

 

This month I’m pushing you in a new direction. For years I’ve asked you to give me new worlds and stories. You’ve had to make up the people and places. You crafted rules and moral structures. All of this along with words, sentences, and other minutia to fill 800 words of space on my posts. However, this month I’m taking some of that work away from you. Each week we will delve into a world someone else has made. Welcome to SEUS!

 

In Week Three it is time to really push you out of the usual comfort zones. We’re going to the theatre. Plays, musicals, opera, if it is performed live it is fair game. One of my favorite things about theatre is that there is such a great level of interpretation to a work. In the corners of what is written, directors, stage designers, costume designers, etc all make personal calls of taste. So let’s push it a bit further and play around in these established worlds? Want to explore the Palais Garnier? Want to depict the actual trial in 12 Angry Men? Maybe you really want to mess around in Carmen. Have at it. Give us some bits of fun in a play. In addition I’m going to ask you to write in script format. Give me dialogue in line, stage direction, etc.

 

Please be mindful of the subreddit guidelines when choosing your EU. If the world would be outside of our guidelines, don’t pick it. Also, please put the name of the EU and maybe a link to a wiki or imdb page for anyone that might have their interest piqued.

 

How to Contribute

 

Write a story or poem, no more than 800 words in the comments using at least two things from the three categories below. The more you use, the more points you get. Because yes! There are points! You have until 11:59 PM EDT 19 March 2022 to submit a response.

After you are done writing please be sure to take some time to read through the stories before the next SEUS is posted and tell me which stories you liked the best. You can give me just a number one, or a top 5 and I’ll enter them in with appropriate weighting. Feel free to DM me on Reddit or Discord!

 

Category Points
Word List 1 Point
Sentence Block 2 Points
Defining Features 3 Points

 

Word List

  • Embellish

  • Gun

  • Globe

  • Swing

 

Sentence Block

  • See to everything yourself.

  • Aging is not lost youth.

 

Defining Features

  • Story takes place in an EU that exists on stage and performed live.

  • Written in script format

 

What’s happening at /r/WritingPrompts?

 

  • Nominate your favourite WP authors or commenters for Spotlight and Hall of Fame! We count on your nominations to make our selections.

  • Come hang out at The Writing Prompts Discord! I apologize in advance if I kinda fanboy when you join. I love my SEUS participants <3 Heck you might influence a future month’s choices!

  • Want to help the community run smoothly? Try applying for a mod position. Everytime you ban someone, the number tattoo on your arm increases by one!

 

I hope to see you all again next week!

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[–]AstroRider/AstroRideWrites 4 points5 points  (0 children)

Rockford

Scene 1:

Two women in black dresses watch into a bank with Tommy guns and potato sacks. The extras crouch on the floor.

Velma: Stick ‘em up. Put all the money in the bags.

Cashier: The vault combination is 23-78-65. See to everything yourself.

Cashier walks out from behind the counter and exits stage right.

Roxie: That was anticlimactic

Velma points her gun at an elderly couple.

Velma: I want one of you to open the vault while the other calls the police.

Old man: Do we have to call the police?

Old woman: The bank is threatening a foreclosure. We won’t say a thing for some money.

Velma: You heard me. Call the police. Old man: How much money do you want?

Roxie: As much as you feel like, I’m not picky.

Old woman walks to the telephone. Old man produces cash from stage left. Velma checks her make-up in a nearby mirror. Roxie practices her pose. A single police officer walks into the door.

Cop: I understand there was a robbery here earlier.

Roxie: You’ve caught us in the act.

Velma: But that’s not a problem for the Murderesses of Windy City.

Cop: Oh, you’re still robbing the place. I surrender.

The police officer tosses his gun on the ground before the women.

Velma: No, you need to shoot-out with us until you arrest us.

Roxie: Please avoid hitting my legs. I want them to look good for the papers.

Cop: They don’t pay me enough for a shoot-out.

Velma tosses her gun to the ground.

Velma: Arrest us right now. We’ll just embellish the story later.

Roxie tosses her gun to the ground.

Roxie: I never really wanted to get shot at.

The old woman walks between them and picks up the guns.

Old woman: Or you let us walk out the money.

Cop: I see no problem with that.

Old woman: Come on Harold. We’re moving to Galveston.

The elderly couple exit stage left with bags of money.

Velma: Can you arrest us please?

Scene 2:

Velma and Roxie are in a prison cell facing the audience. The cop is sitting at his desk on stage right.

Velma: It’s absolutely barbaric that these economic times are forcing everyone to commit such heinous acts. We were innocent women who collapsed under the pressure while those responsible profit off of our injustice. Won’t someone help the little people? Won’t someone save us from this dire situation?

Roxie: Quit rehearsing Velma. There was no reporter at the door, and I doubt they’ll send one here.

Roxie pulls out a flask of alcohol and takes a swig.

Cop: Can I have some?

Roxie: Aren’t you supposed to make sure no one is drinking this?

Cop: They don’t pay me enough for that.

Velma: Law enforcement is drinking with the criminal, a sign of societal degradation.

Cop: You two technically didn’t commit a crime. You’re free to leave whenever you want.

Roxie opens the jail cell and sits next to the cop.

Velma: I will stay behind these bars for the rest of my life. For we are all imprisoned by the rapid swings of the stock market.

Cop: With that much melodrama, she’d be perfect for vaudeville.

Roxie: We were on vaudeville. Remember, we’re the Murderesses of the Windy City.

Velma begins to dance in her cell.

Velma: Bang, bang, there goes my husband. Pow, pow, there goes my love.

Cop: Oh right, I think I saw you in Milwaukee a few years ago.

Roxie: We were stars who traveled across the globe. Audiences were wowed by us. Then, the stock market crashed. Now, people only want to see those four buffoons and tap-dancing toddlers.

Cop: I get it. So you figured you would rob a bank to get your fame back.

Roxie: It seems to be working for that one couple.

Cop: Yeah, but they’re young and in love. That’s what makes it exciting.

Roxie: I agree. I told Velma that we’re too old to get famous for being criminals.

Velma: Aging is not lost youth. Aging is a new opportunity for life.

Cop: That’s a good attitude to have.

Roxie: It’s naive and delusional.

Cop: I don’t know. Maybe infamy is not the opportunity that you were looking for.

Roxie: What do you mean by that?

Cop: I know a good restaurant that hasn’t shut-down on third street if you want to join me.

Roxie: That sounds like a grand time.

The cop and Roxie exit stage left leaving Velma all alone in the cell.

Velma: I am all alone with the injustices of society. I am all alone facing a corrupt system. I am…extremely bored.

Velma walks out of the cell and exits stage left.

r/AstroRideWrites

[–]rainbow--penguin 2 points3 points  (0 children)

A Proud Parent

From the EU of The Bacchae. As a side note, a thyrsus is like a wand or a staff.

The Bacchae are in a frenzy centre stage, dancing around the tree that Pentheus is hiding in. He cowers at the top, brandishing his thyrsus like a gun, while the women swing on the branches below emitting animalistic noises. They are led by his mother, Agave. Dionysus encourages them from upstage.

The sounds die down but the movement continues. Spotlights illuminate two figures overseeing the action below from balconies on either side of the stage: Zeus and Hera.

Zeus: Well, I must say I didn’t see that coming.

Hera: Indeed. I never know what to expect with this son of yours. It’s quite exciting really. Always an enjoyable show.

Zeus: Really? Why go to such pains to kill him then? Chasing him around the globe? Forcing him to hide out—disguise himself?

Hera: Oh, I don’t know. Keeping up appearances? Or maybe I just enjoy the sport.

Mainstage set in an ominous lighting state with flashes of red in a strobe effect.

The sounds come back up: the wild, excited cries of the women below and the terrified whimpers of their former king above.

Pentheus is dragged down from the tree. The women start tearing him apart. Blood splashes everywhere. Agave holds the head of her son aloft and carries it off stage left.

Mainstage lights dim for set change below to the town of Thebes as the gods’ conversation continues above.

Zeus: Having the mother kill the son. That is a nice touch. He really has a flair for vengeance.

Hera: He has a flair for everything dear. He practically invented the term.

Zeus: You're not wrong there. Perhaps that's why he's such a hit with the ladies. Something I like to think he gets from his old man.

Hera: You think that, dear, if it makes you happy.

Zeus: It's just a shame the men aren't as keen. They cause him so much trouble. If only they'd give him a chance...

Mainstage lights come back up in a calm, plain white tinged with blue.

Below, the men of the town are gathered around Cadmus, scared and confused. Agave enters from stage right, still holding her son's head aloft. She marches up to the crowd and presents her prize to her father, Cadmus. Chaos erupts.

The sounds on the main stage die down but the movement continues.

Zeus: Oh, how excellent! Look how proud the poor dear is of her accomplishment. She thinks she’s killed some great beast. I cannot wait to see what happens when she finally wakes up properly.

Hera: I must admit, it’s impressive the lengths this boy will go to in order to avenge his mother.

Zeus: Perhaps you should be a little scared, eh? It was you that got the lovely Semele killed after all.

Hera: Don’t be ridiculous. I fear no one. Besides, technically, it was you that killed her, not me. Only… he is done now, isn’t he?

Zeus: Not quite. If I know my son, he’ll have to embellish it just a bit more. End on a final flourish. There, see!

As Zeus speaks, Dionysus walks on from stage left and positions himself downstage beneath Zeus. Cadmus and Agave kneel before him, in tears.

Zeus: Ah, there we go. She’s finally realised what she’s done. Serves her right for how she treated her sister—my dear Semele.

Hera: Your dear Semele?

Zeus: Err… I mean… Devout Priestess Semele, whom I cared for only as the mother of my child. Anyway, shhh, we’re missing all the fun.

Below, Agave runs off stage right in tears. Dionysus flourishes his thyrsus and Cadmus is lowered through a trap door, leaving behind a serpent. The remaining men of the town look around, confused and lost without their leader.

Hera: Well, that should do it, don’t you think? I can’t see what more he could possibly hope to do to drive his point home. They certainly recognise him as your son now.

Zeus: Ah, it is fun to witness the revelry of the next generation. Though I’m not sure I miss it myself. Just look at all that mess.

Hera: Careful, old man, or people will start saying you are ready for retirement.

Zeus: But ageing is not lost youth. It is gained wisdom.

Below, Dionysus is revelling in his success amidst the remaining townsfolk.

Zeus: Did I ever act like that? Having to see to everything myself? And being so full of myself when I did?

Hera: My dear, you still do act like that. They could fill a hundred books and a hundred plays with your exploits.

Zeus: I suppose you’re right.

Hera: I usually am.

Zeus: Well, now that’s done with, let us at least hope that Thebes will finally see some peace.

Blackout and curtain.

WC: 791

I really appreciate any and all feedback.

See more I've written at /r/RainbowWrites

[–]katpoker666 0 points1 point  (0 children)

‘Worlds in Crisis’

—-

Based on ‘Cabaret’ by Sandy Wilson and prior work by Van Druten ‘I am a Camera’

—-

Emcee: [a single spotlight on him]: “Wilkommen, welcome to the Cabaret!”

Ensemble: [the stage goes bright. Five dancers contort themselves bawdily, dresses flying in a classic burlesque]

Stage: [the stage goes dark. Two minutes pass with background music as the scene changes.]

Narrator: [comfortingly, the stage is dark bar a single swirling pin spot. He half sings and half sighs as if the world were falling down around him]: “Life is a cabaret old chum.”

Stage: [the pin spot sparks again, pulsing. Then it swirls. It stops spinning and focuses on the Emcee who had previously been sitting in the dark]

Emcee: [growling defensively as if in pain]: “What does that even mean? I am the show. The world is mine.”

Sally: [she kneels at his side, left leg facing the audience. Her short auburn curls fall forward. The spotlight widens and shifts to shine on her and partially illuminates the Emcee]: “Are you sure old boy?”

Emcee: [his androgynous face wrinkles in irritation]: “Yes.”

Sally [laughing, bitterness in her voice. She flings her hair back]: “You are the star.”

Emcee: [angry now. Spittle upon his lips]: “I am. How dare you say it that way though you cut-rate harlot?”

Sally: [shivering as if his arrow struck its target]: “I get by, ok.”

Sally: [she grasps her stomach for a momen after the attack as if in pain. Her expression shifts from despair to worry.]

Emcee [head raised high, a haughty look in his eyes]: “Ok, is nothing. Remember our duet?”

Emcee: [he hums and then breaks into song briefly]: “Money makes the world go round, that clinking clanking sound—“

Sally [laughs hollowly]: “Once that was true. Once that was enough. But now?”

Emcee [shaking his head mockingly]: “But you haven’t much time left, old girl.”

Sally: [thrusts her chin out stubbornly and looks him straight in the eye]: “You would say aging is lost youth, wouldn’t you? But maybe it’s gained wisdom, did you think of that? I see the world much more clearly now. More than even a couple of months ago. The show is outside.”

Emcee: [sighing wearily]: “All that we need anywhere in the globe is here. The lights. The dancing. Me.”

Sally: [fervently and placing a gentle hand on his arm]: “So the weapons in the street, the disappearances, they mean nothing to you?”

Emcee: [looks down as if realizing what’s going on. And then looks up clear-eyed and filled with purpose]: “Damn it, Sally, life is bigger than that.”

Sally: [bows and then looks up directly into the Emcee’s eyes with a lingering stare]: “Bigger than our friends being arrested just for being themselves—for being gay or transgender? Or for working the streets to get by? Bigger than the ban on public indecency?”

Sally: [she gestures in an arc that spans the stage, although there is still only darkness] “You may not have noticed, but we are indecent. Our cabaret is indecent. Burlesque is indecent. When do you think they will come inside these paper walls you deem safe and take everything from us?”

Emcee [his expression steely. He reaches out and grasps Sally’s wrist]: “They wouldn’t, they won’t harm us.”

Sally: [opens the metal door to the street. A gang of five youths walks by, swastika-embellished armbands and goosestepping. One stares at her and swings his gun toward Sally.]: “Damn it. Can’t you see the change? These are their rules. Their streets. Their country. There is no we left in any of this.”

Emcee: [shrugs defiantly]: “It’s ugly. It offends my eyes. Why should I look?”

Sally: [sighing, a tear in her eye]: “Because no matter how much we want to continue as we are, a darkness is coming. And we aren’t ready.”

Emcee: [voice resolute. Stands up. Shakes his head at Sally. Sally continues to kneel ]: “The only thing we aren’t ready for is the show. Back to practice.”

Sally: [legs shaking slightly as she stands up. She pushes off the ground with her right hand. Sally sighs, her voice resigned]: “The show must go on.”

Sally: [the lights go on as bright as possible, illuminating the garish, fading nature of the set before slowly dimming to nothing. A brass band plays a rousing 1930s German march that begins softly and rises in decibel in time with the dimming of the lights. Sally grasps her emerging belly and thrusts it forward in an exaggerated arc—maternally at first. Then her hands drop to her sides. She shakes her head ‘no,’ and her head drops as the lights fall. Her voice is soft.] “Yet again, I must see to everything myself.”

Narrator [in a solemn, quiet voice]: “The show must go on.”

—-

WC: 779

—-

Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very much appreciated