Up On a Hill

Act 1: The Ride

Rivers, a boy dressed in tourist’s clothing, walks around a bus snapping photos on his camera. Click, click. The entire space has been captured. Rivers turns to the audience. Click.

RIVERS.
Right now, I’m on a bus. Greyhound. Departed from South Central, LA. Traveling up Interstate-5. I’m heading to Crockett, CA, about six hours from LA. Greyhound’s large windows make it suitable for sightseeing while driving. Between So Cal and Nor Cal, though, not much to see. No one else on this bus with me, so all I have is you.

Rivers looks out one of the windows. Click, click. Click. At the audience. Click. Click. Rivers points his finger at the camera.

RIVERS.
To remember this moment. The human mind can only remember so much. And memories die when we do. For centuries, humans have preserved moments with memorabilia. The more durable the memorabilia, the longer the memory lasts. In theory. Right now I’m on a bus. I’m heading to Crockett, CA. For a funeral… My darling’s funeral.

Rivers focuses on the audience one last time for a photo, but decides not to take it. Instead, he takes a seat on the bus and scrolls through his photos.

RIVERS.
I used to bike through Crockett’s cliffs almost every summer, train whistling as it parts the sea from the seaside. I came here when I couldn’t find comfort in others. Thought many thoughts here, though most didn’t make it out of Crockett’s crevices because I forgot to make memorabilia.

Some say Crockett is the perfect place for ideas to retire, or die.

Rivers packs the camera away into his backpack, then stares out the window. He gets bored and tries to reposition himself in odd ways but none of them work for him so he gets up.

RIVERS.
Technically, all darlings must die. My darling? Her name was Cora. She was a spiraling mess at times, and frustrated the hell out of me. But her presence always brought me joy. She helped me become who I am today. She helped me connect with my family and friends. And now she’s gone.

Rivers takes out a “plaque” made of paper honoring Cora. It reads something along the lines: “Here lies Cora, one of Rivers’ most beloved ideas.” He stares at the plaque, then puts it away.

RIVERS.
Cora, my first darling of an idea. Ten years. I held on to her for ten years. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t kill my darling. In a way I did, though. Instead of a quick and painless death, I let her starve. It’s not fair. Going to college, I finally became a writer. Still, I had not the skills needed to save Cora in time.

Rivers fidgets in his seat.

It’s not fair. Cora did so much for me. And now she must die without the world remembering her. I think that makes it worse. To die is one thing – to die alone is another.

Rivers looks around the bus. He is alone. Rivers looks toward the audience, blankly.

BLACKOUT.

Act 2: The Transition

The hot California sun beats down on the desert. Rivers sits on a bench near a rest stop with his thumb up and out. as cars pass by. His backpack lays beside him.

RIVERS.
Right now, I’m deserted. 150 miles out on I-5, the bus hits a pothole. Had to pull over to a rest stop, where I stepped out. Took my own rest out on a bench in the shimmering sunlight.

Rivers lays down to represent this. Eyes close. Cars pass.

RIVERS.
As sleep submerges, dreams embrace me. Dreams of black licorice spewing from my father’s lips. Dreams of flying high over the brown-green bay water, over Crockett with its train tracks and abandoned monuments. One monument smaller than the rest. Not made of granite, but of paper. Made out to a darling. My darling, Cora!

Rivers jolts back up. Cars pass. Thumbs up, up.

RIVERS.
So I missed the bus. Now I’m forced to hitchhike. On the side of I-5. In the still shimmering sunlight. Because I couldn’t jettison myself from my dreams.

Rivers flings his arm down. Cars keep passing. Rivers fidgets on the bench, then lays down and looks up to the sky.

RIVERS.
Cora, my darling, came to me through a dream. In the dream, a boy and girl in a hotel searched for some evil spirit. Cora was born. The tale of two teenagers who go on supernatural adventures, using supernatural powers, to stop super bad guys.

Rivers finds his water bottle and downs part of it.

RIVERS.
The girl became Cora, of course. Her power, simply put: super-strength. The boy was called Takune. His power was powering up others. The villains: primarily monsters and some evil mayor who controls them. Coming from an 11-year-old’s mind, the story of Cora was wild. Some scenes would go like this:

CORA appears, kneeling on the ground, exhausted.

CORA.
I won’t let you get away with this, Mayor. I will destroy every monster you throw at me!

The sky shifts from blue to red as the MAYOR appears, laughing maniacally.

MAYOR.
Poor, poor Cora. It will be quite difficult for you to vanquish me, without your partner!

Mayor holds up TAKUNE by the neck.

TAKUNE.
Cora…Cora, get out of here, save yourself!

CORA.
Takune, Nooooo!

Cora gets up in anger, but doesn’t budge for fear that Mayor will hurt Takune. Mayor continues to laugh maniacally. His laugh ends abruptly. The lights return to the desert scene. Rivers stands there.

RIVERS.
Again. An 11-years-old’s mind. I matured and attempted to mature my darling alongside me.

Rivers goes through the motion of taking his camera and art supplies out from his backpack and laying them out on the bench.

RIVERS.
Finally, when I turned 15, Cora had found a home. A group of my friends and I formed an animation team to bring Cora to life. For Cora to come to fruition, some modifications had to be made. Ironically, no matter how many modifications we made, the locale always resembled Crockett.

Rivers pulls out the plaque honoring Cora again, then packs up all the objects.

RIVERS.
Before Cora could  fully form, my friends became too busy, and I became too depressed to produce. No memorabilia of our work was kept either. All those memories, gone. Cora was left alone, locked away in a tattered notebook in a forgotten drawer.

The sky melts as Rivers backs away from the bench.

RIVERS.
Loneliness like that, I assume, must feel like being locked in a room where you can see the exit signs glowing green but the doors won’t budge. The room is wrapped in black except for one sliver of light leaking through.

Only a sliver of light remains, hitting the bench.

RIVERS.
A painful reminder that the world is still out there and it carries on without you. That’s why loneliness hurts so much, because you know there’s an alternative. Poor, poor Cora.

BLACKOUT.

Act 3: The Seaside

The sound of children playing off in the distance. Rivers changes his shirt and shoes in the middle of a quaint park. Directly in front of him squats a tree stump. His backpack leans against the stump and his camera hangs around his neck.

RIVERS.
Right now, I’m up on a hill in Crockett, CA. Looking out over the brown-green bay water, taking in the salty-sweet air as the cliff side rolls up behind me. I’ve made it. Cora has made it home. This way, I won’t forget our time in Crockett together.

Click, click. At the audience, click. Rivers puts the camera back and maps the town.

RIVERS.
Crockett. If one stood across the Carquinez Bridge and looked out at the cliffside, one would see the entire town. 3,094 people inhabit that hill. Crockett’s biggest business is the C&H sugar mill. The town has century-old buildings that have been retooled into schools, and many monuments to commemorate its people and events. And for this reason, some say Crockett is the perfect place to retire or die. Because you’ll always be remembered.

Rivers places the Cora memorabilia on the stump.

RIVERS.
Cora, my darling. Through the thickest of fogs, and coldest of winters, she kept me company. She was a spiraling mess at times, but she was also the sliver of light that kept me warm. Always occupying my dreams, at times even dancing through them. I wish the world knew her as I once did. I wish someone could join me on this journey, I wish my friends had never forgot Cora. Wishes that will never come true.

Rivers realizes how alone he is and sulks next to the memorabilia. He looks out at the audience. Spotlight on Rivers and the memorabilia.

RIVERS.
You can’t wish away loneliness. You must work for it, unfortunately. I worked hard to get your attention, my attendant few, and you’ll depart in time, too. And then I will know how Cora feels. Then I will know what it means to be alone too. Hold on to your darlings, and always find new ones.

BLACKOUT.