Characters:
SARAH (25): A young woman, determined but weary. She carries a heavy backpack.
OLD MAN (70s): The Ticket Master at the station. Grumpy, cynical, but with hidden depth.
Setting:
A deserted, dimly lit train station waiting room. Benches are old, the clock on the wall has stopped. A single, small booth houses the Ticket Master. It is late at night.
(The stage is silent except for the faint sound of wind outside. SARAH enters, dropping her heavy backpack with a thud. She looks exhausted and checks the large, static timetable on the wall.)
SARAH: (To herself) Still no update.
(She walks to the ticket booth window and taps on the glass. The OLD MAN pokes his head out from behind a newspaper.)
OLD MAN: Station’s closed. Last train was hours ago.
OLD MAN: (Chuckles dryly) The timetable’s an optimist. It hasn’t been right since 1985. We get a train maybe once a week if we're lucky.
SARAH: I have a ticket. (She holds up a worn piece of paper.)
OLD MAN: A ticket to where?
SARAH: Anywhere. That’s what it says.
OLD MAN: (He leans forward, inspecting the ticket but not taking it) 'Anywhere.' Vague destination. Popular choice these days. What are you running from?
SARAH: I’m not running from anything. I’m running to something. A new start. A fresh chapter. All the usual clichés.
OLD MAN: Fresh chapters require new ink. This station only sells used lead pencils. You won't find a new start here.
(Sarah sits heavily on a bench, rubbing her eyes.)
SARAH: What am I supposed to do then? Sleep here?
OLD MAN: Suit yourself. The drafts are free.
(Silence for a moment. Sarah looks around the desolate room.)
SARAH: How long have you been here?
OLD MAN: Longer than the clock has been working.
SARAH: Doesn’t it get lonely? Just you, the dust, and the occasional lost soul like me?
OLD MAN: I like the dust. It stays where you put it. People… people have destinations. They get on the train and they leave. I just watch the platform.
SARAH: Don't you ever want to leave? Go 'anywhere'?
OLD MAN: (A flicker of emotion in his eyes, quickly hidden) I’ve been everywhere that matters. Seen the start, seen the end. Now I’m just waiting for the final stop.
(The silence returns. Suddenly, a low rumble is heard. Sarah jumps up.)
SARAH: Did you hear that?
OLD MAN: (He listens, a surprised look on his face) That’s not a train. That’s probably the boiler kicking back to life.
(The rumbling gets louder, followed by a bright light that streams in through the windows, bathing the station in an eerie glow. A train whistle blows—long and mournful.)
OLD MAN: Well, I’ll be damned. The 11:45. Right on time, just 40 years late.
SARAH: Is that... is that my train?
OLD MAN: (He stands up straight, adjusts his cap) I suppose it is. Platform 1.
SARAH: (She grabs her backpack, excitement mixing with fear) It’s real. It’s actually happening.
OLD MAN: Don’t stand there gawping, girl. The ‘Anywhere’ train doesn't wait for second thoughts.
(Sarah rushes toward the platform doors. She stops at the door and looks back at the Old Man.)
SARAH: Aren't you coming?
OLD MAN: My destination is here. (He gestures to the booth) Get on your train. And don't look back. The tracks curve too much for clear sightlines anyway.
SARAH: Thank you. For the ticket... I guess.
OLD MAN: Just doing my job.
(Sarah smiles, pushes open the door, and disappears into the bright light. The OLD MAN watches her go. He sits back down and picks up his newspaper, a small, knowing smile on his face.)
(A loud train sound, then silence. The light fades back to the dim station lighting. The Old Man is alone again.)
OLD MAN: (To himself) Hope her ink is fresh.
(FADE TO BLACK.)
No comments:
Post a Comment