Читать книгу The Oberon Book of Modern Monologues for Women: Volume Two - Catherine Weate - Страница 12

SENSE

by Anja Hilling (translated by Logan Kennedy and Leonhard Unglaub)

from Theatre Café: Plays Two

Sense was first performed in the UK on the 27 April 2009 (as part of Theatre Café) at Southwark Playhouse, London.

Sense follows the lives of a group of teenagers and their search for friendship, love and identity. Their experiences are separated into I. Eyes, II. Nose, III. Skin, IV. Ears and V. Tongue. NATASCHA’s story is part of V. Tongue. She hates hearing the noise of people speaking and avoids speaking herself. However, things change when she hears Albert call out to her by name at the local swimming pool.

NATASCHA

Natascha. Natascha.

A miserable word.

That’s how it always starts.

Natascha.

After that nothing but night. Nothing.

That’s what it’s like my name.

A cruel beginning.

Three torturous syllables.

Three As. Three yelps of pain.

A T in the middle.

A beat a trembling t-t-t-t-t-t.

A pulsing in the auricle. A tensing in the brain muscles.

What follows I know it it’s always the same always pain.

Words words words.

Questions little jokes words words.

What follows. I never understand it. Never.

A voice shoots into me.

Bursts my eardrum.

Shoots letters into my small head.

Tears down bridges between my organs.

Pressure on the eyes velvet on the tongue shortness of breath.

My brain bursts into flame my lips twitch.

Someone wants to talk to me wants to hear answers.

It often starts with my name.

I say nothing. I can’t

It’s not that I don’t have an answer. I don’t have a voice.

My answer is a scream.

Nobody hears it. I don’t scream audibly.

I want to leave. As fast as I can.

I don’t run.

I can’t find the bridge to my legs.

I’m gushing in bloodstreams scream in soundproof chambers.

Then I smile.

When someone says my name I smile.

When everything inside me turns to night my face smiles.

My smile is a free spirit.

I know it’s strange.

Smiling doesn’t fulfil the expectations doesn’t count as an answer.

Smiling is always too little. Or too much.

…

When Albert says my name there’s no smile in me. Only music.

I know who he is.

Student rep Albert. Hero of class contributors.

But the sound of his voice has the power to carry me.

With three syllables across the kiddy pool.

I’m afraid.

It’s a new fear.

I’m afraid he might go without saying another word.