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 Category:  Spiritual Script
  Posted: March 13, 2020      Views: 93

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Kindly indulge my sundry (a)musings re living and loving. Please pass my words--wise and otherwise--to anyone who might relate and enjoy. Cheers. I GENERALLY WRITE IN THE FIRST PERSON, EVEN FICTION.

Be bold! Go forth; behold the Myriad Meand - more...

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(bill paid: no fair!) Deathbed revelations
"Lights Out" by Elizabeth Emerald

Curtain opens on Anne sitting in her bed. 


I always said that if I ever got cancer and they told me I needed chemo I’d take a pass. I’d rather die sooner than spend each of those extra days I’ve “bought” puking my guts up. Even if I were guaranteed a complete cure I still wouldn’t put myself through the misery of chemo.

Of course, whenever I told people this they’d say that everybody says the same, but when it comes down to it they always take the chemo.

Well, guess what? It did “come down to it” – I got cancer – and I said a big, fat NFW (NO..F-in’...WAY) to chemo. Of course, they all tried to talk me into it – the doctors, my family, my friends – but I said no dice. Ain’t gonna roll ‘em when it’s a sure bet I’d be tossing double cookies with every throw.

The good news is: They finally got off my case. Because the bad news is: It’s too late now. Too late, and then some. And then some more. The cancer has metastasized – liver, bones, brain: you name it; I’ve got it. I’ve been chugging morphine by the gallon in order to ease the agony. No heroics for me, thank you very much. That’s another thing: everyone says they’d forgo the dope so that they can remain “lucid” in their final days. NFW to that! As for me, I’m drifting somewhere over the rainbow, wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, earthling: you’ll have to pardon my being such a space shot. Last words are supposed to be profound – doubt I can manage that. All I can promise is that at least I’ll try to squeeze a few drops of coherence from this fuzz-ball brain.

Line item 1: No regrets. Sounds insipid – and insincere – I know. But seriously: I mean it. Now, I’ll be the first to admit it would be entirely different if I had kids to raise, or a disabled husband who needed me. But ever since John got killed crashing his motorcycle and Charlie dropped dead of a heart attack two weeks afterwards, there’s nobody holding me here.

Not that I have a death wish. The grief was excruciating – cancer’s got nothing on that kind of agony – but, mercifully, I finally found some relief. This probably sounds silly, but I went to a psychic. She went into a trance and contacted John and Charlie!

Of course, I was skeptical, too, at first, because she could be making the whole thing up. I mean, there’s no way to prove it. I mean, I couldn’t see or hear them – all I had was her word for it. So I tested her. When she told me that there were two spirits wanting to speak to me, and asked had I lost my mother, father, child, husband… I said that before I answered her questions, I had a few of my own. I asked her to tell me the names of these so-called spirits.

She closed her eyes again, concentrated really hard, then said she was getting the image of the letter “J”, that it was someone close to me, who wanted to tell me he was all right, that he had no more pain. Then she squinted and asked if there was someone whose name began with – or had – any of the these letters: “E”, “M”, “R”, “K”, or  “L”.

 I said: My God! “Charlie” has “E”, “R”, and “L”! All three! And the “J” must be for “John” !  Bingo! I knew it couldn’t have been just a lucky guess. I mean, what are the odds?

 So, ever since that momentous day, I’ve taken comfort that when my time comes, I’ll see John and Charlie again. I will be with them again. For eternity.

(Anne shifts position from seated to supine. She opens her eyes and gazes at the ceiling as she begins to speak, closing her eyes intermittently as she pauses between paragraphs.)

So now, “my time has” – just about – “come.” “The hour,” as they say, “is at hand.” I can sense them near me. John and Charlie. I’ve felt it for a couple of days now, and the feeling is getting stronger. They’re waiting for me. To help me cross to the “other side.”

I’ve also sensed the presence of a sort of comforting light. I don’t actually see light per se, just feels like light somehow. Maybe because it’s warm? But it’s kind of a cool, calming light too?

Sorry to sound so oxymoronic. I know I’m making absolute zero sense here. Everything is coming out garbled – my thoughts are all scrambled – but I’m thinking that maybe this warm, cool, light is Jesus?

They say when you cross the threshold to the Afterlife that Jesus will be there to welcome you. He’ll be that “light at the end of the tunnel” that they speak of. So, maybe he’s sort of hanging around now, waiting for me to go through the tunnel?

Which means it won’t be long now. Otherwise, he’d have better things to do than wait around all day for me. There are plenty of people dying every single minute of every single day – he can’t waste too much time on any one of us. Although, don’t they say God can be everywhere at once. And isn’t Jesus supposed to be God? Or his son? Or both?

That’s always baffled me, how that works. Then you have that whole Trinity thing, with the Holy Spirit. As if the father/son business isn’t convoluted enough, they have to toss someone else into the mix. A “spirit,” no less. Still, all these years – since I’ve been about six! – I’ve said my prayers, faithfully, every single night. And for all those years I’ve gone to church, faithfully, too. Every single Sunday. Even though try as I might to find the state of grace seems I always ended up in the state of confusion.

But it doesn’t matter now. I guess I’ll be finding out soon enough what’s what.

(Anne closes her eyes and her breathing becomes increasingly labored. The remainder of her monologue is delivered in her pre-recorded voice.)

It seems as if I’m hearing a funny sound, sort of like a rattle-snake. Every time I take a breath, I hear it, almost as if it’s coming from me, but it can’t be since I sure would have known if I’d swallowed a rattle-snake, ha, ha.

See, I can still make jokes – not bad for someone on her deathbed!

There it is again. It seems as if… every 10…every 20, every 30…seconds…maybe a minute…whenever…I… take… a...breath…

I’m being spun round and round, as if I’m a piece of laundry in the dryer, but it’s more like a chute – I’m being shot through the chute! – in a spiral. In a long, long tunnel…

There they are! I can see them. Charlie! John! Jesus!

Yes!...yes!...I’m coming…they’re reaching out to take my hand…I can almost touch them…to the light…to the light…

(The stage lights become increasingly brighter as Anne's voice continues.) 

I’m almost there! The light… it’s getting brighter…blinding… the most amazing vision…I can see clearly….the most magnificent glowing light…

To the light!…the light!...the light? 

(The stage lights become increasingly dimmer as Anne's voice continues.) 

What’s happening to the light! Where’s the light? I can’t see you! John! Charlie! Where are you? Jesus! God help me Jesus!…I can’t see, it’s all dark…it’s all gone…they lied to me…they lied to us all…they all lied……there is no Heaven…there is no Afterlife…there is Nothing!… there is Nothing!…There is Noth

(Lights out. Close curtain.)



Author Notes
Thanks to joelgraphuchin for the artwork: Spiralmfractal #3

This is my fourth offering on the theme of belief. As before, I intend no offense to Christians. See: HOLY TERROR, BELIEVE IT OR NOT, and HAVE YOU SEEN THE LIGHT?

I give only rough stage directions for this script. In performance, there would be nuanced transitions in Anne's position and movements. Perhaps Anne's monologue could be construed as taking place over a three-day period: 1) Sitting, 2) supine and speaking, 3) supine recorded. So as not to interrupt the flow, I would use subtle shifts in lighting to convey progression of day to night â?¦ etc.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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