Murder Mysteries a Play for Voices (9781466109827) by Neil Gaiman Page A
Authors: Neil Gaiman
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eating, drinking, sleeping, and dreaming this wicked,
delirious tale.
As you read through the script for the first
time, ask yourself how you’d make the worlds sound, what type of
music you’d use, what type of actors you’d cast, and then log on to
our website and give a listen to our production. I’ll bet it’s
nothing like the one in your head – but then, that’s the power of
the imagination, isn’t it?
Brian Smith
January, 2001
Character List
Narrator ~ tells story
Carasel ~ angel who is murdered
Tinkerbell Richmond (Tink) ~ Narrators
girlfriend
Friend ~ Tink’s friend Dorothy
Raquel (Then & Now) ~ angel of
vengeance
Phanuel – senior designer
Angel #1 ~ works under Phanuel
Angel #2 ~ works under Phanuel
Lucifer ~ captain of the host
Saraquael ~ Carasel’s partner
Zephkiel ~ angel without wings
Passenger ~ on plane with Narrator
Flight Attendant ~ on plane with Narrator
SILENCE. JUST THE WIND, AND A TINKLING,
CRYSTALLINE MUSIC, LIKE WIND-CHIMES. WE’RE VERY HIGH UP...
CARASEL
This is madness. You don’t understand...
please, just...
(whispering)
No. For the love of God, no.
(loudly)
No!
(cut off as he is stabbed)
THERE’S A LOUD THUD, AND THEN THE SOUND OF
BEATING WINGS, AND A SCREAMING AS THE ANGEL FALLS, DYING, FALLING,
WAILING. THEN A DULL SPLAT AS IT HITS THE SIDEWALK, AND THEN JUST
SILENCE: ONLY THE WIND.
INTO THE SILENCE, THE OPENING CREDITS ARE
READ. AT THE END OF THE CREDITS...
NARRATOR
This is all true.
(beat)
Ten years ago, give or take a year, I found
myself on an enforced stopover in Los Angeles, a long way from
home. It was December, and the California weather was warm and
pleasant. England, however, was in the grip of fogs and snow
storms, and no planes were landing there. Each day I'd phone the
airport, and each day I'd be told to wait another day. This had
gone on for almost a week.
(pause. remembering, explaining)
I was barely out of my teens. Looking around
today at the parts of my life left over from those days, I feel
uncomfortable, as if I've received a gift, unasked, from another
person: a house, a wife, children, a vocation. Nothing to do with
me, I could say, innocently. If it's true that every seven years
each cell in your body dies and is replaced, then I have truly
inherited my life from a dead man; and the misdeeds of those times
have been forgiven, and are buried with his bones.
(beat: he just said more than he meant
to)
I was in Los Angeles. Yes.
On the sixth day I received a message from
an old sort-of-girlfriend from Seattle: she was in LA too, and she
had heard I was around on the friends-of-friends network. Would I
come over?
/SFX/ A PHONE RINGING, THEN AN ANSWERING
MACHINE CUTS IN:
TINK
(on machine)
Hi. This is Tink. You know what to do and
you know just how to do it.
/SFX/ THE BEEP.
NARRATOR -- LIVE
Hi. Tink? It’s me. I’d love to see you.
Yes.
NARRATOR
I left a message on her machine. Sure.
That evening: a small, blonde woman
approached me, as I came out of the place I was staying. It was
already dark. She stared at me, as if she were trying to match me
to a description, and then, hesitantly, she said,
FRIEND
Are you Tink's friend? The guy she met in
England?
NARRATOR -- LIVE
That’d be me, yes.
FRIEND
I’m her room-mate. Car's out back. C'mon:
she's really looking forward to seeing you.
/SFX/CROSS-FADE SOUNDS OF LA WITH...
/SFX/ INTERIOR. MOVING CAR (OLD OLDSMOBILE
UNDER)
NARRATOR
Her car was one of the huge old boat-like
jobs you only ever seem to see in California. It smelled of cracked
and flaking leather upholstery. We drove out from wherever we were
to wherever we were going.
FRIEND
So how did you meet Tink?
NARRATOR -- LIVE
Bit of a cliche. We met in a pub,
actually.
FRIEND
Yeah. I knew that already. She told me. I
said, you’re crazy, you don’t know anything about him, she said,
Dorothy, he’s
delirious tale.
As you read through the script for the first
time, ask yourself how you’d make the worlds sound, what type of
music you’d use, what type of actors you’d cast, and then log on to
our website and give a listen to our production. I’ll bet it’s
nothing like the one in your head – but then, that’s the power of
the imagination, isn’t it?
Brian Smith
January, 2001
Character List
Narrator ~ tells story
Carasel ~ angel who is murdered
Tinkerbell Richmond (Tink) ~ Narrators
girlfriend
Friend ~ Tink’s friend Dorothy
Raquel (Then & Now) ~ angel of
vengeance
Phanuel – senior designer
Angel #1 ~ works under Phanuel
Angel #2 ~ works under Phanuel
Lucifer ~ captain of the host
Saraquael ~ Carasel’s partner
Zephkiel ~ angel without wings
Passenger ~ on plane with Narrator
Flight Attendant ~ on plane with Narrator
SILENCE. JUST THE WIND, AND A TINKLING,
CRYSTALLINE MUSIC, LIKE WIND-CHIMES. WE’RE VERY HIGH UP...
CARASEL
This is madness. You don’t understand...
please, just...
(whispering)
No. For the love of God, no.
(loudly)
No!
(cut off as he is stabbed)
THERE’S A LOUD THUD, AND THEN THE SOUND OF
BEATING WINGS, AND A SCREAMING AS THE ANGEL FALLS, DYING, FALLING,
WAILING. THEN A DULL SPLAT AS IT HITS THE SIDEWALK, AND THEN JUST
SILENCE: ONLY THE WIND.
INTO THE SILENCE, THE OPENING CREDITS ARE
READ. AT THE END OF THE CREDITS...
NARRATOR
This is all true.
(beat)
Ten years ago, give or take a year, I found
myself on an enforced stopover in Los Angeles, a long way from
home. It was December, and the California weather was warm and
pleasant. England, however, was in the grip of fogs and snow
storms, and no planes were landing there. Each day I'd phone the
airport, and each day I'd be told to wait another day. This had
gone on for almost a week.
(pause. remembering, explaining)
I was barely out of my teens. Looking around
today at the parts of my life left over from those days, I feel
uncomfortable, as if I've received a gift, unasked, from another
person: a house, a wife, children, a vocation. Nothing to do with
me, I could say, innocently. If it's true that every seven years
each cell in your body dies and is replaced, then I have truly
inherited my life from a dead man; and the misdeeds of those times
have been forgiven, and are buried with his bones.
(beat: he just said more than he meant
to)
I was in Los Angeles. Yes.
On the sixth day I received a message from
an old sort-of-girlfriend from Seattle: she was in LA too, and she
had heard I was around on the friends-of-friends network. Would I
come over?
/SFX/ A PHONE RINGING, THEN AN ANSWERING
MACHINE CUTS IN:
TINK
(on machine)
Hi. This is Tink. You know what to do and
you know just how to do it.
/SFX/ THE BEEP.
NARRATOR -- LIVE
Hi. Tink? It’s me. I’d love to see you.
Yes.
NARRATOR
I left a message on her machine. Sure.
That evening: a small, blonde woman
approached me, as I came out of the place I was staying. It was
already dark. She stared at me, as if she were trying to match me
to a description, and then, hesitantly, she said,
FRIEND
Are you Tink's friend? The guy she met in
England?
NARRATOR -- LIVE
That’d be me, yes.
FRIEND
I’m her room-mate. Car's out back. C'mon:
she's really looking forward to seeing you.
/SFX/CROSS-FADE SOUNDS OF LA WITH...
/SFX/ INTERIOR. MOVING CAR (OLD OLDSMOBILE
UNDER)
NARRATOR
Her car was one of the huge old boat-like
jobs you only ever seem to see in California. It smelled of cracked
and flaking leather upholstery. We drove out from wherever we were
to wherever we were going.
FRIEND
So how did you meet Tink?
NARRATOR -- LIVE
Bit of a cliche. We met in a pub,
actually.
FRIEND
Yeah. I knew that already. She told me. I
said, you’re crazy, you don’t know anything about him, she said,
Dorothy, he’s
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