Episode 12 - Reality Writes Itself

Parent’s Evening

sounds of children, furniture moving around, footsteps, chair scraping, Mr Carter shouting at them using names of characters from the previous stories

MR.Carter:
background Peter, sebastian, Garry, stop that now! No I have not seen the boy Mr. Axelerod

MR CHAMBERS:
Ah Mrs… have a seat, it is…Mrs I presume?

MOTHER:
icy Yes. Thank you for your time Mr. Chambers. How has he been doing?

MR CHAMBERS:
Oh, we’ll get onto that shortly, how have you been? How has the past year treated you?

MOTHER:
To be frank Mr Chambers, I am not sure what that has to do with my son’s education or his progress under your tutelage

MR CHAMBERS:
Of course, of course, it will help me put his ah progress into context, to be a better guide to the little tyke

MOTHER:
Well I admire your diligence Mr Chambers.

MR CHAMBERS:
Sooo…?

MOTHER:
The year has been perfectly adequate, as have I

MR CHAMBERS:
Oh, well marvelous, I’m delighted to hear it. And the father…is he giving…ahm…proper instruction to the boy?

MOTHER:
He died. In the war.

MR CHAMBERS:
Oh, I’m sorry, you are a handsome woman to be a widow so young. Well I hope my example is providing a masculine template for your son, a boy needs discipline after all, whether sprouting from inside or imposed from without

MOTHER:
over it Of course, thank you

MR CHAMBERS:
You live on the Garboldisham road, in one of the townhouses? It must be lonely, such a large house and only the two of you.

MOTHER:
Yes, well, I thought we were here to talk about my son Mr Chambers

MR CHAMBERS:
Yes, yes of course, your son. I think it would be a waste of both our times to go over his grades, they are perfectly adequate. However there is one ah point of friction…he’s not very uhm popular with the other children, his presence alone is disruptive, though, one positive - he doesn’t say much, do you boy

ARTHUR:
No sir

MR CHAMBERS:
Regardless his grasp of the written word is notable. It would be commendable if the subject matter he chose was more..ahm..appropriate. Are you giving any direction to his reading?

MOTHER:
No, he reads what he finds. I have no wish to restrict his curiosity.

ARTHUR:
Thank you mother

MR CHAMBERS:
And are you teaching him Russian?!

MOTHER:
Yes

MR CHAMBERS:
Hmmm well his literacy is ahead of the other children though he refuses to copy, he improvises endlessly despite the many corrections I would want to apply, it is a shame I can’t be more forceful. Spare the rod spoil the child, though with your son’s condition I suppose it is unavoidable. It must be difficult at home, without a man there to build some structure

MOTHER:
Mr Chambers, my domestic situation is exactly that, domestic, we’re here to talk about my son’s education, that’s your domain, is it not?

MR CHAMBERS:
Bluster bluster B’well I, yes the boy, have you read any of his uh compositions? Actually, if I may be impertinent, did you help him? Perhaps these are your uuhh musings

MOTHER:
No Mr Chambers, I did not

MR CHAMBERS:
Well, there are some troubling sections, rather macabre, chases in motor vehicles, gory resurrections that border on the… blasphemous

ARTHUR:
Well, I have to get my inspiration from somewhere, sir

MR CHAMBERS:
Be quiet boy, I’m talking to your mother

ARTHUR:
Yes sir

MR CHAMBERS:
There’s also his rather disturbing obsession with blood, have you noticed that at home at all?

MOTHER:
Well he is a haemophiliac Mr Chambers, that’s why we spare the rod

ARTHUR:
It would make such a mess pouring out. Re… red everywhere you look. That would be no good for anyone sir.

MR CHAMBERS:
I didn’t give you permission to speak boy

ARTHUR:
You know sir, I could immortalise you in script, with my words, carve your name onto the page, I’m sure you’d enjoy that, sir

MOTHER:
Be quiet, I’m talking to your teacher

ARTHUR:
Yes mother

MR CHAMBERS:
Right, uhm, yes well beyond that there are pagan suggestions in these stories, the names ahhm Gog Magog and Molech

ARTHUR:
Molech appears in the Old Testament, sir, the god of the Canaanites, Leviticus 18:21

MR CHAMBERS:
Don’t quote scripture at me boy. Do you see what I mean about his presence alone being disruptive? I can’t imagine what it’s like when it is just the two of you

MOTHER:
It is always perfectly pleasant Mr Chambers

ARTHUR:
Yes mother

sounds of mr carter aka the sports coach form half time in the background shouting at children

MR CHAMBERS:
Right, well he’s a voracious reader, constantly in the library particularly now he’s out of physical education. Isn’t that right Mr. Carter, Mr. Carter, Mr. Carter?

MR CHAMBERS:
What’s that? Strikes me he’s got his strategy worked out - no cross country for you ey lad chuckles you boy over there, Gary put that down, you’re going to hurt yourself again.

MOTHER:
Will this take much longer Mr Chambers? Is there anything else you wish to bring to my attention?

MR CHAMBERS:
Actually there is. The characters in his stories share names with children in his class. They all meet rather unpleasant ends. I’m not sure if it’s a revenge fantasy or something…

ARTHUR:
Real names add to the narrative, sir.

MR CHAMBERS:
Be quiet boy. You really are a stain that won’t wash out, aren’t you?

ARTHUR:
Some men lack vision, sir.

MR CHAMBERS:
Although he’s a slip of a child I have seen the power that malice can bring, it is a worry.

MOTHER:
I think you’ve said enough Mr Chambers, Arthur we’re leaving

ARTHUR:
Yes mother. Can You Feel It sir, just beneath the surface? Reality writes itself.

scraping chairs footsteps

MR CHAMBERS:
Strange, strange child

ARTHUR:
It’s waiting.

doors as they exit the building

ARTHUR:
Thank you mother

MOTHER:
Don’t thank me, Arthur, I wish you were never born. Your father would still be here if it wasn’t for you, do you know that? Mr Chambers may be a boor but he was right about one thing, you are a stain that won’t wash out, no matter how hard I scrub.

ARTHUR:
Yes I understand.

MOTHER:
That was an upsetting scene in there. You have been warned about your behaviour. You need to at least pretend to be like everyone else, life will be easier that way, safer. I can swear to that. Since your father died I’ve been but a hollow mask. Watch me and learn. It will help when you are older and I am long gone.

ARTHUR:
Thank you mother

MOTHER:
Look at me. Remember, no tears slap

SHOCK THERAPY

DOCTOR:
Welcome, this way please, glad you could make it at such short notice, I’m sure you understand how this sort of thing goes, you’re never quite sure when an appointment will open up.

MOTHER:
Of course. I’m glad I was at home to take the call. Arthur’s been struggling of late so your timing was most opportune

DOCTOR:
Have you been given a run through of the treatment? The various stages and what to expect with regard to aftercare? And the risk…

MOTHER:
Dr Bissett gave me an outline over the phone, none of the particulars though. If I’m honest much of it was lost on me

DOCTOR:
Quite, well it’s a novel procedure and there have been some quite startling results

MOTHER:
Sound of a capacitor charging

MOTHER:
What’s that sound?

DOCTOR:
The machine, it’s building the charge necessary for the… the treatment to bring your son back to himself

Click, click, click, click of slides changing

Arthur, I am going to show you some images. They’ll be made up of different coloured shapes and patterns. I want you to tell me what you see, whatever springs to mind first, however much or little it may be. Keep watching the images and tell us what you see in between the pulses

sine tone beep

DOCTOR:
Now, are you ready, Arthur?

ARTHUR:
Yes sir

DOCTOR:
Excellent, let us begin

sine tone beep

There is a man patting a smile on a wall, he looks cold.

I see an angel flying over a city on ruby wings

Two birds take flight from the shoulders of a statue standing in a dried up pond

3 figures climbing up a cliff lit by the moon

3 men around a fire, on is on his knees crying

A dark tunnel that has train tracks that runs under a river

A smoky table and 13 people playing cards

A butcher cutting up some meat

rllll

DOCTOR:
Now bite down hard Arthur and listen to this tone

sound of ‘lectricity

SUICIDE

slightly raised voice because of the traffic below

ARTHUR:
Thank you for meeting me here today mother, I know we’re not much of a family for marking the passage of years so it does mean a lot to me. You said you wanted to speak to me? Why did you want to meet here?

MOTHER:
I have always loved this bridge, the view of the city rolling out below like a blanket spilled on the grass, and its inhabitants flowing along the tarmaced river beneath us

ARTHUR:
Yes, yes I believe I can see it too

MOTHER:
We didn’t have the easiest life together, you and I, after your father passed I’m afraid I was left without much light to give

ARTHUR:
Don’t be silly mother, you were a perfectly adequate caregiver

MOTHER:
Thank you..son. I do have 2 things to give you. The first is the final letter your father sent, I never opened it, the wound is still raw

ARTHUR:
choked up a bit Thank you, thank you mother….what was the other thing?

MOTHER:
Freedom, don’t worry I’ve made sure you’ll be provided for

ARTHUR:
What do you—NO! Please get down, NO!

scream, crunch, cars braking

Passer-by:
Jesus Christ she fucking jumped!

Passer-by 2:
Are you alright there mate? What did she say, you were talking to her? Who was she?

ARTHUR:
My mother. That was my mother

Passer-by 2:
Christ, don’t look down there mate, don’t look…

ARTHUR:
Hunh, she landed on a red car…

sound of Arthur collapsing to the floor

BREAK UP

ARTHUR:
Please don’t hang up

B:
Why are you calling, it’s over Arthur

ARTHUR:
It doesn’t have to be, we can run it again and choose different parts, see how our story develops this time round

B:
We tried that before. I told you I’m done, I don’t want to be a character in your fucked up life. I don’t even know if you like real people. Please stop calling.

ARTHUR:
You can’t mean that! You can’t! You’re all that’s keeping me tethered! I can’t continue without you, you mean everything to me!

B:
That’s cliched even for you Arthur. I’ve heard it all before, from your mouth and your characters, it doesn’t work any more

ARTHUR:
…You are so ungrateful, so draining, all you do is hold me down

B:
Then stop calling. This is goodbye.

click

ARTHUR:
I — I didn’t mean it ugly crying

AWARD

sound of envelope

ANNOUNCER:
And the winner is drum roll and click of a spotlight coming on Arthur Crane for his short story collection Reality Writes Itself

some applause….not too much

ARTHUR:
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much, you can’t imagine how much this means to me. All those years of toil and sweat finally recognised by my peers, really it means a lot, and such an illustrious award too! Most promising newcomer! What a title, yes. Although I do find it a little funny how this recognition has chosen to breathy manifest. I mean most promising is flattering but newcomer? I’ve been working on this for years, even self published a few of my early works, I mean we all know how hard the publishing industry is, right?

sound of throat clearing, shifting in chairs

Well, like I was saying it really is an honour to receive some recognition regardless of the shape that it’s chosen to—

ANNOUNCER:
whispered Mr. Crane, I’m sorry, there are other prizes

ARTHUR:
What? But I haven’t thanked anyone—

ANNOUNCER:
A round of applause for the winner Arthur Crane!

ANNOUNCER:
Come on now, off the stage

Arthur sounding distant

ARTHUR:
And I’d like to thank my mother! You are my guiding light

Sound of a spotlight turning off - https://motionarray.com/sound-effects/spotlight-953052/

OUTRO

Sounds of narrator shifting around then waking up with a yell / exclamation

The Narrator:
Whuuuaaa— throat clearing Wait, what was that—where am – oh of course, of course, in the booth, where else would I be—did they hear that? No, it’s not possible..well did you dear listener? I suppose I should welcome you back to Tales Beneath the Surface but it seems a little redundant, you’ve been here all along after all. Did your mother never tell you it’s rude to listen in on other people’s confessions? Mine did. My, my, my, all these voyeurs peering in, uninvited. Of course I brought it on myself, dear listeners, can hardly maintain an audience’s interest without baring a little of your soul. I promise I won’t hold it against you, no, no, certainly not. Though one question remains at the front of my mind. Did you hear something true? Did that all happen? Or was it just a tawdry bit of theatre? angry but warbally An exposé of the sad and disappointing life of this pathetic narrator dredging pity from his audience? short pause A man has to eat I suppose. Though I wonder, I really do. Neither option fills me with joy, maybe there’s another way…Well we’ll all have to wait and see won’t we dear listeners because, after all, said slowly reality writes itself.

HAVE THE OUTRO MUSIC AS IF THE EPISODE’S FINISHED THEN TAXI STARTS

---

Taxi

Sound of 2 car doors opening sighs then people sitting down

Sasha:
Location?

Interviewer:
Vinegar Alley, Walthamstow

Sasha:
meter’s running. Should be there in HOWEVER LONG THE RECORDING PROBABLY IS, I’ll drop you outside the church - there’s space to turn around there

Interviewer:
Fine

Sound of indicators / blinkers then engine accelerating and car pulling away

Colleague:
mocking In a black cab now Sash? When did you get time to do the knowledge?… Nothing to say? Haven’t seen you in a minute Sash, when was the last time? Must’ve been the parson’s! You rolled in just as we’d finished up, always late to the party ain’t ya

Sasha:
Oh — it’s you — RUSSIAN INSULTS Party? I remember. You left me a mess. growing angry Plenty of “Fun and games”, eh? Why were you there? Never made sense. Place was wrecked. Bodies everywhere. No witnesses, right?! Blame it on the gangs again? RUSSIAN INSULTS Was told it wasn’t you. I don’t believe it. I see you there’s corpses nearby.

Colleague:
Come on Sash, why the hostility? You forgotten about professional courtesy now you’re driving? Even then I’d expect a bit more friendliness, you’re fucking yourself out of a tip here mate and looking at where you are I imagine you need every penny you can get, I’ll be honest, I think you’re in the wrong line of work here.

Sasha:
RUSSIAN INSULTS, What do you want? If it’s just to bother me, leave. Word’s bore me, your words especially. Try steel instead—leave each other with a few more holes, let in some light and air. Maybe next time, you think before poking a bear.

Colleague:
OOOoooooee still the same old prickly pear you were all those years ago, you know what maybe I’ll take you up on that offer there my pedigree chum but first, Sasha you’re looking flustered, you feeling hot? Yeah hot… And the car, yes the car is buckling, closing in and…

sound of Sasha turning round and grabbing colleague’s throat then a choking sound

Sasha:
You forget I know what you are. Try that again and I’ll take your voice and hide it somewhere you’ll never think to look. Clear RUSSIAN INSULTS?

Interviewer:
You’re causing a scene Sasha. Let him go

Sasha:
grunt

Colleague:
deep breath in, coughs his voice hoarse as Sasha lets him go You still… can’t take… a joke, uptight prick. Once this is over let’s have a meetup, somewhere nice and private, you can even stuff your ears with wax if you like, we can see who’ll be poking who.

Interviewer:
deep tired sigh Are you done? I can barely breathe over the macho stink. If it brings an end to it know that I’m ever so impressed. You’re both such big and strong and violent men and I’m sure it would be the fight to end all fights forever and ever amen. Now, are you done?

Sasha & Colleague:
embarrassed grumbling / grunts

Interviewer:
Good, drive Sasha…Now to business - as long as we’re moving we can talk. We heard you’re a free agent Sasha, that you’ve parted ways with your uhmm little outfit

Sasha:
cut him off No. There is nothing you can offer me

Interviewer:
Listen, this is important

Colleague:
holding his throat - little choked speaking slow Listen to him, you big dumb bastard…. sincere please, we’ve got a problem and much as it sticks in my throat to admit it you could help

Sasha:
Like I said I’m out, not looking for that kind of work any more. Even if I was, I wouldn’t come to you

Colleague:
What the fuck do you mean by that?

Interviewer:
Peace, peace, set it aside, this is bigger than your petty egos

Colleague:
lets out an annoyed breath then angrily - tell him then

Sasha:
whistles Ah, interesting

Interviewer:
There’s been a change of late, I’m sure you would notice it if you thought about it and if someone, say me, took the time to point it out

Sasha:
What are you –

Interviewer:
Ah, ah, just think now, maybe back to the last job you had, or however you managed to cut ties with uhm your previous compatriots, now was there anything particularly apt or trite or somewhat contrived about it?

Sasha:
What, what do you mean?

Interviewer:
Did it feel like a loose end was finally tied up, or that life is playing out scenes you saw in your dreams, or that everything is suddenly slotting into place each domino falling, or something unexpected suddenly resolved, or were you dragged back in for one more job…oh I see that’s hit a nerve

Sasha:
How can –

Interviewer:
Stop. Speaking. Listen.

Sasha:
grunt

Interviewer:
There’s something… emerging, it feels like a cloud of morning mist rising from a field then hanging in the air, visible till the sun burns it off, it’s still there though, that morning mist, you just can’t see it. It has suffused everything

Sasha:
You’re speaking in riddles

Interviewer:
Yes, I am, think about that too. Why might I be doing that? I’m going to tell you a story now, keep what I’m telling you in mind and it might come to pass. Now, my mother was a saint, my father a devil and between them they raised the man you see in your rearview mirror, keep your eyes on the road, if you don’t mind. A true union of opposites, they complemented each other despite disagreeing on almost everything, their contrasts highlighted the virtues and vices of the other, yes, yes you could say that.

Now one thing they agreed on, the thing that welded them together, was the importance of stories… They both believed that they led a life outside of their telling.

There was one story they told regularly, I’m sure you’ve heard it before, that of the little boy who cried wolf then got eaten up when one came along. They told it with a key difference though. The little boy didn’t suffer because he was a liar, given up to the big bad wolf when it finally appeared, already exiled because no one believed him. No, that’s not it at all. He was a prophet, a rural Cassandra, the villagers as deaf as they were in Troy.

That little boy suffered because he felt the wolf emerging. It itched at the back of his skull, scratching around in the shadowed dark of his dreams, prowling among the memories half forgotten and abandoned.

So he sang it to him. He couldn’t help it. His premature warnings drew the wolf in. They lay down the scent for it to follow, beating out a clear path. And it dragged itself out from the story, out into the fleshy world of bloody teeth and tearing claws. He drew it to him and it feasted. There was no escape….do you follow what I’m saying

Sasha:
Am I the boy?

Interviewer:
No, oh no, the boy’s elsewhere, what he’s pulling through though is what you can feel, it’s already bleeding over, pulling threads together.

Sasha:
Wait, you’re —-

Interviewer:
NO! Stop thinking! This isn’t the time for that, never know who’s listening pause You know we didn’t set out to have this meeting, it would be quite the trick to pick out and hail down just the right cab, strange don’t you think?

Sasha:
And yet here you are, in the back of my cab….pulling me back in

Interviewer:
Can you bear the cliché. He can.

Colleague:
What?

Interviewer:
Not you

Sasha:
We’re here, Vinegar Alley, that’ll be 22 pound

Interviewer:
Here you are sound of money and an envelope / newspaper being passed over and a little something extra for the trouble. If you can face it it’ll be worth your while, you could say everything is on the line. A final tip - don’t open it here, wait till you’re somewhere in between, go for a walk perhaps, see what clicks into place with the rhythm of your steps, in the privacy of your mind

Sasha:
Be seeing you soon, no doubt

Interviewer:
No doubt

Colleague:
Later big man.