Characters
Tiffanie Sparks:
A child star in her late 30’s who hit the big-time in her late teens and early 20s, then fell hard and into obscurity.
Pappa Sparks:
Tiffanie’s father. Mid 60’s, skinny, and always sweating. Pappa is Tiffanie’s manager, publicist and accountant. He is also the manager of The Movietime Motel.
Loretta “Sparkle” Santorino:
A hard living woman in her early to mid 50’s . She is a stripper/cocktail waitress at The Cougar Club in Encino.
Setting
A series of small rooms in a cheap motel (The Movietime Motel) that caters to adult clientèle.
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Continue reading ‘Movietime Confessions: A Dramatic Play in One Act’
Lying on the bed
View of green
Heaven
Grandma lay
Rotting
Cells killing cells killing skin
Yellow
Eyes cloudy eyes like
Granite
Sit next to me
Here, on the bed
Fearful
Weight on the blanket
Fearful
Might break
Fearful
Might…
Fearful
Promise me
Hands of bone of
Glass
Hands
Green
Promise me you will never stop writing
Promise
Promise you will always remember
Promise
I Promise
*
Copyright© 2007 Mark B. Papale All rights reserved
I awoke from a dream, agitated, sweating and unable to return to sleep. The dream was vivid, specific and simultaneously vague. I was holding the frail, bird-like hand of my grandmother as she led me room by room through a transparent apartment in the heart of London. The place was magnificent; white, polished and pristine; overlooking a lush, leafy green and fragrant Linden forest encased by walls of iron. Tables of glass lined the invisible walls of the apartment, adorned by numerous and varying picture frames wrought from precious silver, each protecting fading photographs of faceless people. Continue reading ‘Halom’
With tires screeching, Miriam slides her Escalade into an empty stall in the City parking garage on Rodeo Drive, slams the concrete wall, backs up, slams it again, then lowers the window and turns off the engine. Her hands are trembling and sweat trickles down her neck, soaking a dark stain into her ivory silk blouse. She glances around to see if anybody is looking, convinces herself the place is empty and lights up a joint she lifted from her daughter’s purse. She takes two deep hits and tries to hold her breath like she has seen her daughter do — breaking into a painful fit of coughing. She takes a sip of water to soothe her dry throat, and tries another hit. Then with a press of a button she opens the tailgate, steps out and slowly walks the perimeter of her SUV, checking for evidence of damage. She notes with small relief that only the front left bumper is dented and the clear plastic cover on the headlamp is cracked. After another walk around for good measure, she removes a clean white form-fitting skirt and matching blouse from the back of the SUV and quickly changes. In the tinted window of the rear passenger door, she smooths her dark hair, examines her reflection and applies fresh lipstick. For a moment she pauses, focusing on the small, dry lines marring the delicate cocoa skin under her eyes, then switches out her gold hoop earrings for a pair of large diamond drops. Continue reading ‘Lunch with Miriam: A Tale of Unforgettable Events’
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