A Ten Minute Play
Short story by: Megan Stoner
Adapted for the stage by: Stephen Morgan
Sound effects: Soldiers march. The quick ratta-tat-tat-tat of machine guns firing. Airplanes fly overhead. Something crashes. Bombs drop. People scream, quickly silenced when the bombs hit.
The sounds dim... but rise again.
Except as the lights come up, the sounds are from a boy, PETER, playing at his house in London during World War II. He flies an old, chipped wooden plane in his hands over an imaginary city.
PETER: Take that, Germany! Ahhhhh!!! Ratta-tat-tat-tat BOOM! (pretends he is hit by enemy fire) Ahh! They got me! (falls to the ground) Oh... What a way... And to think I never... never... told my brother...
Peter's brother, Joseph, enters. He wears a thick wool coat with a second coat in one hand, a flashlight in the other. For a teenager, he seems too serious, too bitter already.
JOSEPH: Get up. Are you playing that stupid game again?
PETER: (murmurs) Never told my brother what a wet blanket he is.
JOSEPH: Put this on.
Peter takes the coat, slips it on, then shrugs it off again.
PETER: Aww, it's so hot, though. Do I have to wear it?
JOSEPH: You want to come, you'll wear it.
Peter lowers his head and makes a face. He slips one arm inside, then stops. He looks at his brother.
PETER: Joe, I was thinking... Maybe I'll stay home.
JOSEPH: Jeez, can you make up your mind? First you beg me to come, now you want to stay home.
PETER: What if mom comes back?
A long beat. Joseph doesn't know what to say, but it's clear the remark cuts into some deep, unhealed wound.
JOSEPH: Not tonight, Peter. Maybe she'll come back tomorrow.
PETER: You said that last week.
JOSEPH: Come on, Pete. Put the coat on.
PETER: When's she coming back?
JOSEPH: Peter... Tomorrow. I don't know.
PETER: Yes, you do. You always act like you know everything! Well, why don't you tell me!
JOSEPH: She isn't coming back! All right? I need to spell it out for you? (grabs the wooden plane from Peter's hand, throws it against the wall) Stop playing these bloody games. You know she's gone. Stop pretending. (on his brother's hurt look) I'm sorry, Peter. But it's just us now. Just us and this bloody war.
Peter can't hold back the tears anymore. It's all too much.
JOSEPH: Look, shut up! (shakes Peter) Be a man. You want to survive this?
Peter rubs his eyes and stifles his tears. He sniffles, holds out his arms to Joseph.
PETER: Can I have a hug?
Joseph pushes Peter's arms away.
JOSEPH: Would you be a man? Just once? Sooner you do the sooner I can stop worrying about you.
Peter smiles.
PETER: You love me, don'tcha.
Joseph rolls his eyes.
JOSEPH: Hugs are for sissies. (trying to be important-sounding) A real man loves his country and his duty.
Now Peter rolls his eyes.
PETER: When're we leaving, anyway?
JOSEPH: We'll leave when I say.
PETER: But it's getting dark--
JOSEPH: Pete, one more word and I swear, Nazis or no Nazis, I will leave you here.
Peter holds his hand over his mouth. While Joseph turns around and looks out the window, scanning for any danger, Peter bites his hand to keep his mouth shut. He's about to explode when--
JOSEPH: Ok, let's go.
They exit, lights dim.
Lights come back up.
Joseph and Peter enter to St. Paul's Cathedral, a church now used for soldiers to sleep and use the high heights to watch for enemy planes.
Joseph stops Peter, faces him.
JOSEPH: Now, you do exactly what I say. Don't speak. Don't look at Mr. Allen. Just nod and go along with whatever I say. Ok?
PETER: Ok.
JOSEPH: Good.
They knock on the doors of the church. An old, weathered man opens the door. Except it's not an old, weathered man. Just a tired, weathered soldier: Mr. Allen.
MR. ALLEN: Joseph, we've got your place all set-- (double-takes on Peter) You're not taking him up too, are you lad? He's much too young. It's dangerous.
PETER: I'm sorry, sir, but just as you said, it's dangerous. I have to keep him with me. I promised our mother I would take care of him. Believe me, sir. It wasn't my idea.
Mr. Allen looks at Peter, then at Joseph, then at Peter again. He sighs and shakes his head.
MR. ALLEN: (faraway, thinking of something else) They get younger every year. Not right. Not right. Where's your mother? I should talk to her.
PETER: Well, sir... the truth is we don't know. She's been working in the Clapham Station shelters-
MR. ALLEN: Oh Lord, that's near where the bombs hit last week, isn't it? She wasn't hurt, was she?
Joseph reminds Peter with a look not to say otherwise.
JOSEPH: No, sir. She'll be back soon, no doubt. But the shelters need her more than we do.
MR. ALLEN: True enough. But... He's so young, Joseph.
Joseph's grip on Peter's arm tightens. Keep your mouth shut and let me handle him.
JOSEPH: I have told my brother what is expected of him, and I will make sure he causes no trouble--
But Peter can no longer contain himself!
PETER: I'm already ten, sir! Please, let me go. I want to help.
Mr. Allen looks at the two brothers for a long time, says nothing. Then he smiles a little, his eyes wrinkling.
MR. ALLEN: Sorry to think we need your help. But glad you want to. Come along then, up the stairs. (as they go up the stairs) Hope your mum comes home soon. Be a shame for you two to end up in an orphanage. Seen too many siblings separated that way.
Peter stops Joseph, gives him a look off what Mr. Allen said. Now he realizes.
PETER: (finally admitting the truth in a lie -) She'll be back, sir. We'll be ok.
Perhaps sensing the real story, Mr. Allen smiles but goes along with it.
MR. ALLEN: Right you are.
At the top of the stairs is the watchtower. A soldier, older, perhaps mid-forties, smokes a cigarette, turns to them as they enter.
MR. ALLEN: Stand down, soldier. Your relief is here.
SOLDIER: Jesus, Joseph and Mary, how old are you?
JOSEPH: I'm fifteen, sir.
SOLDIER: Enlisting next year then, eh?
JOSEPH: Can't, sir. (beat) Won't. It's difficult at home, see... I've got him to take care of.
SOLDIER: [(Nods) Right. Priorities is priorities. Country, 'ome... Maybe above them all, family. Country's not worth much without young ones to keep it going. (touches Joseph's shoulder) Don't you worry, lad. You'll get your chance. There'll be more wars.
The soldier and Mr. Allen start down the stairs.
SOLDIER: Lord help us... there'll always be more.
They exit.
PETER: That's supposed to be you.
JOSEPH: Who?
PETER: That soldier. If it wasn't for me, that's who you'd be, isn't it?
JOSEPH: Rub it in, Pete. Rub it in.
They sit down.
PETER: What comes next?
JOSEPH: We sit. And we wait. If the alarm goes off, it means the Germans are on their way with bombs.
PETER: I can't wait.
They sit for a few moments in silence.
PETER: I'm hungry.
JOSEPH: We just got here, Pete.
PETER: But I didn't get any dinner. How can you not be hungry?
JOSEPH: Peter, keep your mouth shut.
PETER: What? The Germans are in airplanes, Joseph. It's not like they can hear--
Suddenly the alarm goes off!
Peter jumps up, screaming.
PETER: Oh, God, they're here, I know I said I wanted to see them but--
But Joseph is on the ground laughing. After a moment, the alarm dies down.
PETER: What is it?
JOSEPH: That's the test siren. It goes off every night.
PETER: Wha- why didn't you tell me?
JOSEPH: And miss that look on your face?
PETER: You're mean. I hate you.
Peter curls up in the corner of the tower.
Joseph laughs. He takes out a cigarette, lights up.
Peter turns back around.
PETER: You're smoking!
JOSEPH: What about it?
PETER: I'll tell mum!
Beat, realizes he no longer can.
PETER: Can I have one?
JOSEPH: No.
PETER: Just one puff!
JOSEPH: And mess up the little baby's lungs?
PETER: I'm not a baby!
JOSEPH: You know that's what she used to call you. It's what you are. Widdle baby Pete. Can’t
have a cigarette, it will mess up his itty bitty lungs. ‘Take good care of little Pete, now, Joseph,’ she said. ‘Cause you obviously can’t take care of yourself.
Joseph stands up, yells out of the tower to the city and to anyone that will hear.
JOSEPH: Well to hell with with what you wanted! I'm not ready to take care of some kid! I told you not to go! I told you! Now who's immature? Now who's dumb?
PETER: Don't talk about mum that way!
Peter lunges at Joseph, knocks him to the ground. The cigarette flies out of Joseph's hand.
Peter's fist slams into Joseph's shoulder and they both yelp in pain before Joseph grabs Peter by both wrists and flips him onto his back. Joseph raises his fist to hit Peter in the face. At the last minute, he pulls away.
JOSEPH: Get your things. You're going.
PETER: What? But you said we had to stay until morning.
JOSEPH: I'm not going. You are.
PETER: What? But you have to take care of me. You have to--
JOSEPH: I'm not going to get us killed because you can't keep your damn mouth shut!
Peter grabs hold of the tower wall.
PETER: You can't make me go. I won't go!
Joseph grabs Peter, pulls.
But he stops. His eyes go wide at something unseen in the sky.
PETER: Let go of me!
JOSEPH: Pete, get down.
PETER: I hate you! I hate you! I hate--
The siren starts again, louder than ever, and this time it doesn't stop. Joseph grabs Peter and forces him to the ground.
JOSEPH: Stay down! They're coming!
Sound effects: Airplanes dive over the city. The alarms go off, this time for real. Planes coming closer, closer.
Joseph screams into the walkie talkie to Mr. Allen, but Allen's response is drowned out as the airplanes fly directly overhead. Bombs drop, machine guns fire. Bright harsh lights and then --
The lights go out. The boys scream and scream.
Underneath the cloak of lights off, the actors mess up the stage so it looks like bombs hit.
Until the bombs lessen, the airplanes become distant hums, and then it's all over, fire engine sirens blaring in the distance.
The lights come back up. Joseph huddles over, holding his head.
PETER: Joe?
Joe looks up, a big line of blood across his forehead.
PETER: You're hurt!
Joe coughs, brings out his cigarettes. Pulls one out, hands it to Peter.
JOSEPH: Still want one?
Peter shakes his head.
PETER: No.
Joseph looks at the cigarettes, throws them over the balcony.
JOSEPH: Me either.
Coughs again.
Someone comes running up the balcony. It's Mr. Allen.
MR. ALLEN: Oh, God. Bombs hit the church. Doors gone, stairway's in pieces. Good thing you boys stayed up here.
Mr. Allen looks behind them at the sight of the city now in shambles.
MR. ALLEN: Oh, God. The city. (brings up his walkie talkie, radios others) Get them ready. It's a mess out there. (Beat) No telling how many are dead.
Peter turns around, goes to the edge of the balcony.
PETER: Joe... the houses. They're, they're gone. What about our--
But he hears a sound behind him. He stops. Turns around. It's Joseph, crying. And for the first time, Peter lets his tears come, too. He goes forward, arms out, and the brothers embrace each other.
PETER: It's ok, Joe. It's ok.
Lights dim.
The End
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