Moelwyn Mawr

Moelwyn Mawr

PETER HARRIS - Early Twenties HUGH LOYD – Forties

MATILDA BRAOSE – Fifties

Setting

Northern Wales, on the mountain Moelwyn Mawr, near the town of Tanygrisiau, in 1924

Set

An empty stage, with a giant door against the back, and two tall widows on either side; Scene III, the stage was a two large wing backed chairs, and a pile of artifacts around one of them; Scene IV, the stage has a table with two chairs.

SCENE I

Meditation X

 Can't Joan just get a break? There she is, walking down the street to grab breakfast, because her house is a mess. She doesn't have the time to cook, and even if she did, all the dishes are piled up! Joan's got it hard, and it's no wonder people feel bad for her. Once she gets to her job, it's all she can do to get some work done. She has a picture of her dog, and brown coffee mug full of pens, and a computer screen thinner than a piece of paper, all at her desk. The light from the screen, oh! it's so distracting.

Meditation IX

I was always out of character. Not to say I really had character, but whoever it was, whether a friend, a partner or a colleague, they always mentioned how I acted weird around them. That they saw me with others, and I was always gone. But it didn't really matter what I told them, whether it was a one time thing, or I managed to stave it off on multiple occasions. It eventually eroded through, and I was left without them, again.

Meditation VIII

Really, the smokey noise the trumpet, poured over the rest of night's soft chill would be enough to make anyone forget. But when I showed up late one night unable to get pas the first flight of stares, and my cry up the tower brought down my roommate, it's me who was irresponsible. Who cares if I was gone for two hours, if that cocktail mixed of grief and horror of one self, a creature of itself, had been taken by anyone else, they wouldn't be found for three nights, and then they'd be beyond anyone else.

Meditation VII

Maybe it was a prank the kids played on me. Maybe it was something they thought about when they woke up, and waited for the sounds of me. Something they giggled about once they crawled back into their beds. Or maybe my wife did.

However it happened, whatever reasoning, I've woken up, and I can't open my eyelids. I touch them and feel them moving as I look back and forth in the dark room, the slight bump of whatever is keeping them down. Whatever it is, it's stronger than my muscles, and I rise our of bed without really noticing. I sleep like a nocturnal beast, and so no light enters my room until I open the blinds or turn on light. I only knew once I did this, and everything turned red.

Meditation VI

“That's Mr Simmons. He owns the whole town.”

“If he owns the town, why haven't I seen him before?”

Meditation V

A man rode down the road towards his destination, a destitute town, against the grain of workers leaving. Whether on wagons or by foot, they never stopped, and as the man reached the outer limits and climbed down, the ranks of people still continued as far as he could see. With their destination so close, it wasn't hard to justify living where you had grown up. But still some carried empty jugs or dull tools, and our man walked by converted houses and coveted amenities.

Meditation IV

Neil the well dressed man was sitting on the bus one day when he didn't realize he was taking up two seats. There was a man whose tie wasn't quite done up right, and whose jacket was covered in cat fur standing in front of him, and so Neil lifted his bag onto his lap, and the man sat beside him. A puff of cat hair came up, and Neil wiped it off his bag. He then pulled out his phone, and began to shop for more fashionable clothes.