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Shawna Chia

Quarantine the play will be posted on here for public feedback and review as Euginia writes for the next few weeks. 
The Google Doc can also be accessed here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eKNAeAFOjgluewXPGfNissWO6meg5p6VKgsfFxZq_pk/edit?usp=sharing

Quarantine

A daughter attempts to negotiate a murder on her mother during their time of quarantine.

Mother

Daughter

Scene 3


(continued from previous entry)


The next day comes. The house is very, very slightly in a mess.


Daughter and Mother are keeping to their respective corners. They are both slightly dishevelled from the lack of sleep the previous night.


Suddenly, Mother switches on the radio. Some noise is emitted.


Mother: I have to know, I have to know.


Radio: Weather report, normal. Crowd control, normal. Death count, 899, a five percent decrease after twenty four hours...


Daughter: Turn it off!


Mother desperately clings to radio.


Mother: I have to…


Radio: Weather report, normal. Crowd control, normal. Death count, 899, a five percent decrease after twenty four hours.


Daughter: You do not have to know!


Daughter destroys the radio.


Mother: No… No!!!!


Daughter: When all is well, they will let us out. That is when you would know.


Beat.


Daughter: You just, have to wait. Till then.


Mother: I have to… I have to know.


Daughter: Why do you need them to tell you what you want to know? Does knowing bring you some kind of sick pleasure?


Beat.


Daughter: Then you don’t have to know. Not knowing can sometimes help.


Mother: But only they know.


Daughter: And so, how do you know what they know is true?


Mother: They wouldn’t lie to us.


Daughter: Oh really?


Beat.


Daughter: For all you know, we could step outside right now and the air is… fresh. Uncontaminated.


Beat.


Daughter: Maybe what’s keeping us inside, is just ourselves…


Daughter reaches out for the door.


Mother: Please! Don’t! Okay. Okay. We don’t have to know.


Daughter: For all you know, this disease is self-made. Ha! Like a… Millionaire.


Mother: Okay. I know what you want now. You want to talk. Right? You want to talk to me. Let’s… Let’s talk. Let’s… Let’s communicate. Like people.


Daughter: Ha! Ha! Ha ha ha!


Beat.


Daughter: Look at how that word rolls about in your tongue so awkwardly!


Mother: No, no. I can talk. I’m… I can do it.


Daughter: Okay. Let’s.


Beat.


Mother: What… What do you want to…


Beat.


Daughter: Go on.


Mother: Do you think we can… Get something to eat first? It’s... It’s been a lot of... energy.


Daughter: Let’s eat.


Mother cautiously makes a meal. Both sit down to eat.


Mother: It’s… It’s soup. There’s no need for… For….


Daughter: The fork or knife?


Beat.


Daughter: Why are you so afraid of me?


Mother: You… You…. Look at the mess! Look what you did to it! (points to radio)


Daughter: No, I mean, before this all happened.


Mother: I wasn’t afraid of you!


Daughter: You were. You looked at me like… Like you couldn’t believe I was…. Breathing. Sometimes, you looked through me.


Mother: I… I wasn’t ready for a child… Your father and I didn’t get along…


Daughter: Then get angry at me! Spite me! Treat me disdainfully!


Beat.


Daughter: Anything would have been better than… Just trying to keep me alive.


Mother: But I want… The best for you…


Daughter: What am I to you?


Mother: My child, my… A daughter I birthed.

Beat.


Mother: A burden.


Daughter is slightly taken aback. She tries to eat.


Mother: Sometimes, a lesser version of me.


Daughter continues to eat.


Mother: A reminder of a mistake I had made. Mistakes I have made.


Beat.


Mother: Yet, someone I… feel responsible to. Someone, I feel a strange sense of tenderness toward.


Beat.


Mother: Sometimes, anything you did was pathetic to me. Really! The way you came out after the shower. The way you drank a glass of water. The way you… Left the house. Without a care in the world, trying to make some kind of impossible dream happen. And your talk about dreams. Hah! How was I to tell you, so scrawny and full of hope, that the world would simply shatter you?


Beat.


Mother: I couldn’t. So, I served you.


Daughter stops eating.


Mother: I fed you. Clothed you. Tended to you when you were ill. Cleaned up your fucking messes!


Beat.


Mother: And now, you want to kill me. And you want me to accept you. Because that’s what you have been wanting. You wanted a mother so full of life and longing as you. You wanted a mother who was scrawny and brash and filled with impulse and whim! Like you, your idiotic, disgusting, entitled self!


Daughter moves her seat back.


Mother: What are you going to do now? You wretch. Are you going to break something else? The bowl? You constantly make me afraid. You constantly make me out to be weak and pitiful. So what? Maybe your mother is! Your mother is spineless! She only bends to your will! Is that what you want to hear?


Daughter stands up.


Mother: You think you know the first thing about dreams. You think you know the first thing about wanting to hurt, or be hurt.


Beat.


Mother: You don’t know the first thing about dreams, until you have felt them gone from you.


Pause. Mother starts to eat. She eats loudly.


Daughter: Is this revenge for me trying to kill you?


Mother continues to eat without answering.


Daughter: Mother.


Mother: Yes.


Beat.


Mother: Do you even remember my name? Did you know I had a name before you?


Beat.


Daughter: No, I can’t remember your name.


Beat.


Daughter: Did you?


Mother finishes her food.


Daughter: What was that like?


Mother: All mothers lose their names to their children. Amongst other things.


Beat.


Daughter: I’ll do the dishes.


Mother: No, I will.


Daughter watches Mother do the dishes.


Mother: Yes. Watch me. Just like how you have all these years, silently.


Daughter: I can’t help…


Mother: I hated it when you watched me.


Beat.


Mother: You might think you have your own mind now. But you wanted so badly to copy me before.


Daughter: There’s nothing else to look at in the room!


Beat.


Mother: So, you look at me.


Daughter: You’re the one moving, you’re the one…. Breathing. You’re the one… I can look through.


Mother turns to face Daughter.


Mother: Who is the thing then? Me, or you?


Daughter: You… You’re…. I….



Mother clears the mess of the radio. Daughter continues to watch.


Shawna Chia

Quarantine the play will be posted on here for public feedback and review as Euginia writes for the next few weeks. 
The Google Doc can also be accessed here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eKNAeAFOjgluewXPGfNissWO6meg5p6VKgsfFxZq_pk/edit?usp=sharing

Quarantine

A daughter attempts to negotiate a murder on her mother during their time of quarantine.

Mother

Daughter



Scene 2


Night falls. Mother and daughter are still in their respective corners.


Daughter is slowly falling asleep. She drifts into slumber.


Mother seizes this chance to try to snatch the knife away from daughter, which is by her side.


Daughter feels the movement, catches the knife in time.




Daughter: What are you -


Mother: Please, please give it to me.


Daughter: No. It’s mine!


Mother backs away when she sees her daughter guarding the knife defensively.


Mother: Okay, okay, you can keep it…


Daughter: Go to sleep.


Beat.


Daughter: I won’t touch you in your sleep.


Beat.


Daughter: It’s too cruel.


Mother: Then why do you even want to kill me at all? Killing is cruel! Watching over me like a hawk, with that knife in your hand is also cruel!


Beat.


Daughter: How many today?


Mother: You didn’t let me switch on the radio, how would I know?


Beat.


Daughter: Will you give me permission to let me kill you?


Mother: What sort of question is that! Of course not!


Beat.


Mother: How did I raise you to become like this? How did I…


Daughter: You didn’t “raise” me.


Beat.


Daughter: You didn’t lift a finger.


Beat.


Daughter: You simply… let me be. I just… Was. I look at you doing things every day. Just, doing and doing. You would clean the table. Then sit at the table and talk on the phone. You would talk on the phone like… You were just talking. I couldn’t… I couldn’t feel anything from you. I heard your voice. I felt how clean the house was. But… where were you?


Mother: Do you know how many people would want to be you! Just to have a mother who does something for them! Do you know?


Beat.


Mother: What are you talking about with all this doing and doing? Of course I would be doing things! Life is about doing, it is about moving on. Who else would keep the house neat? Who else would keep things going? It was just two of us. I needed to be sure of everything!


Daughter: Yeah. But you looked at me, like I was just one of the objects in the house!


Beat.


Daughter: I could talk. I could breathe. I could dance, sing, bleed. Where was I to you?


Beat.


Daughter: Did you ever ask me how I feel about my father?


Mother: Don’t talk about him.


Daughter: You feel him gone. I feel him gone!


Mother: Don’t talk about him.


Daughter: You see! This is what you do! You just… do! You do, and do, and do. And nothing really gets done. You are cleaning this house. You are listening to the news. And you are just… a series of doing!


Mother: Give me the knife.


Daughter: Okay, I will. If you give me permission to use it on you.


Mother: No!


Daughter: Even if you don’t let me kill you, at least let me use it on you.


Mother: Why… Who would even do that? I will call them. You are crazy!


Daughter: Yes. I really am. So how? Call them.


Beat.


Daughter: Call them, let them come in their uniforms. Their gas. Their germs from the outside, into your clean house.


Mother picks up a phone/ receiver type device. She contemplates.


Daughter: Call them. You are also not sure what they will do. They don’t even have voices. They may not even be human, who knows? They will handle me, like I am a thing. They will lift me up like a vase. The corner where I touched will be empty. Then, they will move me away. They will take me away to somewhere run by them. Where everything is also clean. And nobody talks. And I will slowly spend my days there, alone.


Beat.


Daughter: You will no longer have anyone to do things for, at home. And then, what will you do?


Mother slowly puts down the phone/ receiver device. As soon as she puts it down, she seems to remember something. She begins to clean the phone, before she puts it down.


Daughter sees Mother cleaning, and lets out a slow, bitter laugh.


Shawna Chia

Quarantine the play will be posted on here for public feedback and review as Euginia writes for the next few weeks. 
The Google Doc can also be accessed here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eKNAeAFOjgluewXPGfNissWO6meg5p6VKgsfFxZq_pk/edit?usp=sharing


Quarantine

A daughter attempts to negotiate a murder on her mother during their time of quarantine.

Mother

Daughter

Scene 1

(continued from previous entry)


Mother freezes in fear.

Daughter: Don’t. Move.

Mother: I…

Daughter: Don’t say anything!

Beat.

Mother: Look, just calm down. Take breaths. They… They said this would happen, didn’t they? This is… this is normal!

Daughter: No, this is not normal, you bitch! I’ve wanted to kill you the earliest chance I could!

Mother: Well… Well why didn’t you then?

Beat.

Mother: (getting a bit more bold) If you were really so sure about it, why didn’t you just –

Daughter: Shut up, right now!

Mother: Okay. Okay.

Daughter slowly releases her grip. Mother quickly backs to another corner.

Daughter: (gestures to knife) I’m not putting this down. Don’t, make any sound.

Mother: You crazy bitch!

Daughter advances towards Mother with the knife.

Mother: I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t… Please….


Mother begins to cry.

Daughter: So you do have some feelings.

Beat.

Daughter: In that cold, white body.

Mother: I have to stop. My mucus will drip all over me, and I will make a mess, they said… we can’t make a mess now… I have to stop, I have to stop…

Daughter: Why is it always about making a mess with you! Just…

Beat.

Daughter: (resigned) Can’t you just leave it? I know they said it… But…

Mother: We have to stay alive. We have to stay alive.

Mother calms herself.

Mother: We have to stay alive.

Daughter: No, we don’t have to do anything!

Mother: No, we have to.

Daughter: Who says?

Beat.

Mother: We just have to. It’s wrong to die now. It’s bad.

Beat.

Daughter: It… It’s our choice…

Mother: People are dying everywhere! Without a choice! We have. To stay. Alive.

Beat.

Mother: It’s the right thing to do.



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