The Villain Variations

A strange piece I've just rediscovered. No idea what it is, really. I had this idea that you could write loads of very short origin stories for villains. This was the only one I got round to.


A androgynous figure, middle aged, sits in the centre of the stage, alone, visible in a dirty spotlight. He could be made of rags, if rags took the shapes of the things they remember being. If a sleeve remembered being what was meant by an arm, or a skirt remembered being what was meant by ‘I love you.’ And he could be made of what the rags remember, as bitter as their faded memories, and as accustomed to his fate. He could be all this, but the rags are inanimate in this universe, and so he is simply very alone.

He is building something. He manages to be feverish and furtive at the same time, and he is constructing something metal, all the hard edges already threatening against the soft indolence of his rags. The metal device swarms into new shapes under his hands. It is pipes, and rust, and sheets of long-green copper.

A man walks past in an outfit that is at once obviously not of our world and obviously a business suit of some kind. Broad, strong colours, the kind of silly hat that is only ever associated with rank.

Androgynous figure Got any pipes?

Man Oh, yes, I think...

The man reaches into his garments and pulls out a battered pipe.

Man Seen better days, but I think it’s all right...

The androgynous figure takes the pipe quickly and hides it amongst the rags.

Androgynous figure Peace be with you.

The man smiles and walks on.

The androgynous figure takes out the pipe again, and includes it in his construction.

He pumps the machine at a pipe-handle. Then he sucks another pipe as he pumps vigorously, energetically. As he does this, he seems to gain strength, even height.

With a final, great suck, he stands, and suddenly this is a man, and not a man you could really imagine sitting destitute in a pile of rags. He is strong, the intimidating side of virile, and very tall and broad.

He makes a noise - half a laugh, half a roar.

A small middle-aged woman arrives at the other side of the stage. She is dressed strangely, though well, but she looks desolate and small.

Woman I thought I had you that time.

The man turns to her, very slowly.

Man No. You’d better run. Run and hide.

Woman (Very frightened.) I can’t. I know what you’ll do.

Man That’s right. Steer clear of the conditional. Run. And hide.

The woman runs away.

The man strides off in the other direction.

Scene 2

Molly and Jake walk onto the stage. Both 20, and best friends, and the special kind of totally idle that looks like great activity.

Jake They’re just stories.

Molly Of course they are.

Jake Hang on. No lies today. You said.

Molly OK. They’re not just stories, they’re shadows. They’re the almost-true things. There are things that happen, and things that nearly happen, and then there are the almost-true.

Jake Carry on.

Molly It’s about pathways. Sort of. Through time.

Jake Does it have to be pathways? I haven’t walked along a pathway since I was about ten. I walk down roads.

Molly OK. It’s a one-way street, and you’re driving down it so you can’t turn round.

Jake Right.

Molly Yes. And, OK, at some point, maybe ages ago, there was a fork in the road.

Jake Right, this is an old idea, Molly. There was a fork, and we took one path, but there’s a parallel universe created of the ‘us’ that took the other path.

Molly Now you’re saying ‘path’! Anyway, no, that’s just it. No. You’re here, right, so you aren’t also on a different path. But your shadow is, sort of. Walking along the other path, in parallel with your steps. That’s fine, that’s not a problem, that’s just things that nearly happen. It means just sometimes you have a feeling that you know a total stranger very well, or you’ve always loved a new musician you hear, or you just don’t trust someone, even though you haven’t got a reason. They’re the feelings you get because your shadow is sending ideas your way. And you’re its shadow too, crowding in with all its other ideas.

Jake But that’s not what you’re talking about.

Molly Nope. I’m talking about the almost-true.

Jake Well?

Molly Jake, shall we sit down? This is a dark story.

They sit down, swinging their legs over the edges of the docks.

Molly Ready?

Jake OK, go for it.

Molly The almost-true are the rare. Sometimes a person is born in just one reality. That’s very rare. Normally if two people fall in love in one reality, they will fall in love in another because their shadows will remind them of each other, and if they have a child in one, they will in another. Or even if they don’t in more than one...

Jake There are lots of paths...lots of chances.

Molly Exactly. But sometimes a person is born in only one reality. They have no shadows, so they’re often lonely because no-one has shadows reminding them to meet this person. But sometimes they can travel between the worlds.

Jake You’re making me shiver!

Molly Sorry, Jake.

Molly starts to sob.

Jake puts his arm around her.

Jake Molly. You’re not...don’t be silly. These are just our stories, Molly.

Molly No lies today.

Molly disappears.

Jake Molly? Molly! MOLLY!

Jake looks around frantically around the stage for her, and then runs off the stage.

SCENE 3

Two women are sitting at a cafe table, looking normal except as with the first scene, there is a richness to the colour of their clothes, a slightly unusual style to their clothes, which makes them look just faintly superimposed on their surroundings. They are drinking a thick black liquid.

Jake enters. He looks desperate, and a little older.

He walks directly up to them, in no doubt about who he wants to speak to.

He speaks like a man not used to being rude, but who is picking it up quickly.

Jake I think you can help me.

First woman Do you, young man?

Jake Yes.

Second woman I think, Trude, that what the young man is trying delicately to imply is that he would like to entreat our assistance.

First woman Really, Sally? Well, I wish he’d just said so.

Jake I am looking for Molly. I think she was in trouble.

Trude And why do you think we can help her?

Jake I don’t.

Sally But you want us to help you get to her.

Trude Why can’t he get to her himself?

Sally What do you think?

Trude I think she’s gone ...

Sally Or been taken.

Trude Or been taken to where he’s got a shadow living.

Sally Does he know where? Do you know where?

Jake Yes, I think so.

Jake shows them something in his hand.

Pause.

Trude We haven’t been there.

Sally No. We haven’t been there.

Trude All right, we’ll help you, but there’s a price.

Jake I’ll pay it.

Trude It’s a hefty price, you stupid man. You can’t be in the same place as your shadow.

Jake So he’ll go somewhere else?

Sally No. You’ll have to kill him, or that universe will reject you like a transplanted kidney.

Trude Tell him our price.

Sally Yes, our price. Our price. Kill us too, while you’re at it. We haven’t been there, and our shadows are wary of us.

Pause.

Sally Up to you, of course. You don’t have to go looking for her.

Jake Three murders. I don’t know who I’ll be when I find her.

Sally Three?

She laughs, a little.

Sally What’s to say you’ll find her in this one? She could have gone anywhere.

Jake And the price, the next time?

Trude Just the same, of course.

Jake And how many places will I have to look?

Pause.

Jake How many shadows can I afford to lose?

Trude takes her glass and tips it upside down, letting the gloopy black liquid drip slowly down to the table top.

Trude Not many.

Sally Technically. But you never know: you might develop an appetite for strange places. That would keep you going, if nothing else could.

Jake She’s my best friend. I’ll find her.

Montage sequence. Jake travels. The lights change as he slips from one reality to another.

A man sits filling a bucket, humming to himself. Jake slits his throat from behind, and takes his necktie, attaching it to his own neck.

Jake travels on and the lights change: we are in a new place. A man stands in a suit, giving a talk to a board. Jake stands up from the table, and stabs the man. He takes his handkerchief and pushes it through his buttonhole. No-one at the table reacts.

Jake travels on. A new place. A man walks down the road. Jake takes him down and walks on, wearing his hat.

Faster, the next man is a doctor, the next has his daughter with him.

Jake takes an item each time, until he looks like he could eventually become the man from the beginning.

SCENE 4

As the first scene. The man stands bravely, strong, in the middle of the floor.

The woman re-enters.

Molly I’ve changed my mind. I’ve got to stop you.

Jake You can’t.

Molly (Hesitantly, she has not used this word in a long time.) Jake. I’m not frightened of what you’ve become now. I’m not going to run away from you again. (Pause.) Do you remember why you began this?

Jake I was seeking you.

Molly Do you remember why?

Pause.

Molly For mercy, Jake. You wanted to rescue me. I’m here. You’ve found me.

Jake Let’s go home, then.

Molly I’m sorry. You can’t. Look at what you are now. You’ve gone where I can’t follow you.

Long pause.

Jake Run, then. Run, and hide.

Molly realises he is serious, and backs away, and exits.


Finis.