Morpheus - Scene 1 by Ben Garry

I wrote the first six scenes of this play (with one more scene on the way) as a response to inspiration that I received in my A levels from both the modern tragedy, A Streetcar Named Desire (by Tennessee Williams), and Ancient Greek tragedies such as Euripides' Medea and Heracles. My big idea was to create a modern day classical tragedy, that somehow combines the ancient form with the modern. Thus, I've axed the Chorus found Greek tragedies, set out the script in what I hope is a similar way to Williams, and placed two minor Greek gods in a kebab shop in Brighton. I've also tried, as far as possible, to merge modern ideals of everyday heroes with classical ideals of the supernatural, as well as keeping to as many of the conventions of plot that are found in classical tragedy as I can...it's all well and good me saying this, but you can be the judge of how successful I've been. If you enjoy this, then I'll post some more scenes in the coming weeks. I hope you like it!

THANATOS and MORPHEUS sit at a two-man table in a kebab shop. The light outside the shop windows comes solely from street lights. It is the middle of the night and it is overcast; the moon and stars have no effect on the streets. Inside the café, two men work behind the counter, serving a steady but small trickle of people who pass in and out of the battered shop door. No one pays any attention to THANATOS or MORPHEUS as they enter the shop or as they leave. The counter is on the right hand side of the shop as you walk in and THANATOS and MORPHEUS are sitting parallel to this. MORPHEUS has his back to the door; THANATOS is facing the door. On the wall behind MORPHEUS’ head is a white analogue clock. It reads 6:04 and the second hand jerks regularly but never progresses. MORPHEUS is wearing a loose, white shirt (untucked at the waist and slightly baggy), as well as comfortable looking, dark blue jeans. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, slightly revealing a hairless chest. His moderately dark, brown hair is a little unkempt, as though he just ran his fingers through it after a shower and left it as it was, but he doesn’t look unsophisticated because of this. THANATOS is wearing a black jacket (not leather) with the collar upturned around his neck. The jacket is zipped up to the base of his throat and nothing of the clothes under it can be seen. He is wearing slightly crumpled black trousers that are tucked into stout, shiny black boots around his lower calves. His black hair is combed back and falls to the base of his neck, but it does not look greasy. He is clean shaven except for a small, black, triangular beard under his lower lip.

THANATOS looks around himself in undisguised disgust as if the kebab shop is the epitome of all that is unsavoury in the city, which, perhaps, it is.

THANATOS – It’s no surprise that I’ve been kept so busy of late.

THANATOS picks up a laminated menu displaying the kebab shop’s wares, glances at it briefly with an expression of disdain, then throws it over his shoulder.

THANATOS – After all, humans seem to have an obsession with things that will get them killed. Once upon a time, the human race was actually concerned with prolonging their lives (He chuckles mirthlessly)...apparently they’ve decided that survival is overrated.

MORPHEUS – (Scowling) Don’t pretend that humanity matters to you, Thanatos. The only time you’d ever take an interest is if they discovered the secret of immortality. And you know full well that they have no love for you in return.

THANATOS – Oh I know, Morpheus. But I suppose it doesn't matter what humans think of me as long as I can do my job well.

THANATOS smiles as he talks but the smile never quite reaches his eyes, which remain a cold and ruthless grey. He is like a deadly reptile: nothing special to look at, but so full of poison that it seems to ooze out over its skin. Nonetheless, MORPHEUS seems untroubled in the other’s presence.

MORPHEUS – There was a time when we cared about what humans thought of us, even you. We sought their adoration and they worshipped us, bowing to powers that they knew were beyond their control.

THANATOS – We still have that power, with or without their worship. What does it matter if you have a thousand fleshy lumps fawning over you for a few years, at the end of the day, they are nothing more than a whim of greater gods than us.

MORPHEUS – Of course you’d say that! You only look at a human when it’s their time to die. You stare them in the face and they scream right back. (He sneers at the other) I doubt you even know what love is.

THANATOS – (Seeming genuinely amused) And I suppose you do know what love is, Dreamer?

MORPHEUS – I am the bringer of sleep, of dreams! Many count my gift as a blessing, which is more than you can say, O Lord of Death. I actually care about the humans, without me, they would never survive.

MORPHEUS keeps his voice low, but his mocking tone is unmistakable. THANATOS leans forward. He doesn’t appear angry at the other’s accusation, but a dangerous glint sparks in the flint of his eyes.

THANATOS – Does that mean you have to care for them? Do your powers make it essential that you show them concern? Tell me, Morpheus, if you only care for them because your powers require you to, do you really care for them at all?

MORPHEUS – Yes, I do. You need to-

THANATOS – (Cutting off the other’s sentence) Enlighten me, for I don’t think I understand where you’re coming from. For millennia, you have left me to my duties, yet now, you challenge me as if I am an enemy to you.

MORPHEUS – Perhaps, in ages gone by, I made the mistake of not caring enough.

THANATOS laughs, but the sound is cold and humourless. The lights in the shop seem dimmer and colder than they had before.

THANATOS – Perhaps you did. Though I must say, humans seem to have been sleeping and dreaming well in the last few centuries, so you can’t have been neglecting your concern for them too much.

A small knife appears in THANATOS’ hand. He twirls it slowly through the air, watching MORPHEUS intently. The few humans in the shop seem not to notice.

THANATOS – Your uncomfortable silence reveals more to me than your evasive words, Dreamer. You are no Athene or Hades; you are not suited to cunning lies and distortions of the truth. I go everywhere, I see everything. You cannot hide anything from me.

MORPHEUS does not respond. He is sullen, glaring down at the table. If there is anger building behind his eyes, he keeps it hidden.

THANATOS – (Sneering) Nothing to say, Dreamer?

THANATOS reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small picture. The image is JANE BLACK, turned partly away from the camera, unaware that the picture has been taken. MORPHEUS cannot help but glance up sharply. His mouth opens slightly and a look somewhere between surprise and fury skims over his features before he can compose himself fully.

THANATOS – Now we’re getting somewhere. Do you know who this woman is, Morpheus?

MORPHEUS – No. I do not stalk mortals as you do.

THANATOS – (Seeming genuinely amused) I would find this funny if it wasn’t so pitifully pathetic.  You tell me that you don’t know this woman, but the look on your face when you saw this picture said otherwise. Don’t bother to deny your reaction. I saw it – I am patient and well skilled at observing the actions of the living. (His voice quietens eerily) How else do I know when it is their time to die? There is no point trying to hide anything from me. What is going on with this mortal?

MORPHEUS – She...she interests me.

THANATOS – Oh? As an ant interests a child?

MORPHEUS – Well-

THANATOS – Don’t bother.

MORPHEUS – (Reluctantly) No.

THANATOS – What then? As a question interests a philosopher?

MORPHEUS – No.

THANATOS – Well, this is bemusing indeed, Dreamer. (Feigning surprise) Surely you can’t mean...

MORPHEUS – (Slamming his fist on the table) You know what I mean, Thanatos!

The lights in the shop seem to flare brightly, then dim sharply once more as THANATOS’ expression darkens dangerously.

THANATOS – I do know what you mean. I know all too well. Foolish god! Did you not think that the Olympians would notice?

MORPHEUS’ defiant expression changes to one of horror.

THANATOS – Yes, Morpheus. I was sent here by the Olympian gods themselves. You know as well as I do that a god cannot fall in love with a mortal; we have not been allowed to do so for centuries now.

Placing the photograph of JANE BLACK on the table, THANATOS stabs down on it viciously with his knife.

THANATOS – Are the goddesses not good enough for you?

He stabs down again.

THANATOS – Could you not choose a nymph to take as your wife?

Stab.

THANATOS – You idiot. The path you choose is littered with foolishness.

MORPHEUS – (Angrily) You know nothing of love! How could you possibly understand what it means to fall in love when all you do is take?

THANATOS – (Raising his voice) I know my place! (His voice lowers threateningly once more) As should you.

MORPHEUS – So in doing this, I am out of place?

THANATOS – By the decree of Olympian Zeus, as a god in love with a mortal, you have broken a heavenly law.

MORPHEUS – (Looking away in disgust) I don’t need to hear this from you, Thanatos.

THANATOS scowls at him, pockets the knife, picks up the photograph and slowly tears it in half. His eye’s never leave MORPHEUS’ face.

THANATOS – I have said what Zeus sent me to say. My warning has been given. You would be wise to give it heed. Good bye, Morpheus.

THANATOS pushes himself up from the table and stands straight. MORPHEUS still refuses to make eye contact with him. Giving the god of dreams one last, long, penetrating stare, THANATOS exits through the shop door, striding out into the night. MORPHEUS remains seated. He stares down at the table and picks up the two halves of the photo. He holds them together for a moment, gazing at the face of JANE BLACK, before slipping them into the pocket of his jeans. He frowns slightly, then leaves the shop.