The list of following short plays by the blogger is interesting to behold for passionate readers.Here is a first short, original two-character play about time, memory, and a lost set of keys.
Title: Five Minutes to Closed
Characters
TUNDE (40s): A tired night-shift worker holding a worn leather jacket.
IFE (30s): A sharp, patient clerk standing behind an old service counter.
Setting
A small, dimly lit municipal lost-and-found office. A single ticking clock hangs on the back wall.
(The play begins. TUNDE paces near the counter. IFE wipes down the laminate surface with a cloth.)
IFE: We lock the doors in five minutes, sir. If it is not in the ledger, it is gone until Monday.
TUNDE: It has to be here. A brass key on a faded red lanyard. My grandfather gave it to me. It opens nothing anymore, but I keep it.
IFE: (Pulls out a large dusty book) Everybody says it has to be here. What does it look like besides red cloth?
TUNDE: Heavy. Cold. Smells like old iron and rain. I lost it right outside the bus station bench.
IFE: (Sighs, reaches under the counter, and sets a small rusted tin box on the wood) People leave pieces of their lives on benches every day. They think the city swallows them. Look inside.
TUNDE: (Steps close, peers down into the tin, and hesitates) What if it is not there?
IFE: Then you stop carrying your grandfather's locked doors around in your pocket.
TUNDE: (Slowly reaches out and touches a single key inside) ...It’s warm.
IFE: (Checks a small wrist watch and smiles faintly) That would be the afternoon sun. Close the lid before you go. We are shut.
(TUNDE pockets the key, nods once, and walks toward the exit as the lights fade to black.)
Here is another original short play, this time a quick comedic sci-fi piece.
Title: The Customer Support Paradox
Characters
ALEX (20s): An exhausted tech support agent wearing a headset.
Xylar (Unknown Age): A holographic customer from the year 3042.
Setting
A cluttered office desk. A blue holographic projection floats in mid-air.
(The play begins. ALEX is rubbing their temples. XYLAR’s hologram flickers rapidly.)
ALEX: Thank you for calling FutureTech. Have you tried turning your time machine off and on again?
XYLAR: I did! Now I am stuck in a loop where I eat the same breakfast burrito forever.
ALEX: Is it a good burrito?
XYLAR: It was the first forty times, Alex. Now it tastes like existential dread. Fix it!
ALEX: Okay, check your dashboard. Is the temporal containment field set to "past" or "present"?
XYLAR: It says "tuesday."
ALEX: Ah. That is your problem. Tuesday is not a spatial dimension. Press the red reset button.
XYLAR: (Reaches out, pauses) Wait. If I press it, will I remember this conversation?
ALEX: Honestly? Our system updates every millennium, so probably not.
XYLAR: Goodbye, Alex. See you five minutes ago. (Presses the button)
(The hologram flashes brightly and vanishes. ALEX sighs, takes a sip of coffee, and hits a button on the headset.)
ALEX: Thank you for calling FutureTech. Have you tried turning your time machine off and on again?
(The lights snap to black instantly.)
Here is a short, dramatic slice-of-life play about two people at a crossroads.
Title: Midnight at the Diner
Characters
RAY (60s): A tired cook cleaning a grill.
MAYA (20s): A college student sitting at the counter with a packed duffel bag.
Setting
A 24-hour highway diner. Heavy rain beats against the windows.
(The play begins. RAY scrapes grease off the flat-top grill. MAYA stares into a mug of black coffee.)
RAY: Bus is late. Highway is flooding down south.
MAYA: I can wait. I have nowhere else to be tonight.
RAY: Your parents know you took that bag?
MAYA: (Traces the rim of her coffee cup) They know I left. They just don't know why.
RAY: Usually people leave because they want to go somewhere. You look like you're just running away.
MAYA: What is the difference?
RAY: When you run away, you keep looking behind you. You’re going to trip.
MAYA: (Looks up, defensive) I had to leave, Ray. Everyone there already decided who I am.
RAY: (Stops scraping, looks at her) So who are you?
MAYA: I don't know yet. That’s the point.
RAY: (Nods, pours her fresh coffee) Good. The city won't tell you either. You have to build it yourself.
(A loud bus horn echoes outside. MAYA looks at the door, then down at her bag. She takes a deep breath, stands up, and leaves a crumpled bill on the counter.)
MAYA: Wish me luck.
RAY: Don't need luck, kid. Just keep your eyes on the road ahead.
(MAYA exits into the rain. RAY watches the door close, then goes back to scraping the grill as the lights dim.)
Title: The Vault Entry
Characters
LOGAN (30s): A nervous thief holding a specialized hacking tablet.
SAM (40s): A calm, veteran safecracker wearing leather gloves.
Setting
The deep, concrete basement vault of an elite private estate. A heavy steel door dominates the room.
(The play begins. LOGAN taps frantically on the tablet. SAM stands perfectly still, ear pressed against the vault door, turning a dial.)
LOGAN: Hurry up. The main grid reboots in ninety seconds. Security will see us.
SAM: Noise ruins precision, Logan. Quiet your hands.
LOGAN: (Wipes sweat from eyes) I didn't sign up for a murder scene. The guard upstairs—you said he was just sleeping.
SAM: He is sleeping. He just won't wake up. Focus on the firewall.
LOGAN: (Steps back, horrified) You killed him? That wasn't the plan!
SAM: Plans adapt. The vault is unlocking. (A heavy metallic click echoes) There.
LOGAN: (Lifts the tablet) Wait... the digital encryption isn't clearing. The system says the vault is already open. From the inside.
SAM: (Smiles, stepping away from the door) I know.
LOGAN: What?
SAM: I didn't hire you to help me get in, Logan. I needed your biometric ID to unlock the outer perimeter so I could let my team out.
(The heavy vault door slowly swings outward. Shadows move in the darkness within. LOGAN drops the tablet as the stage lights instantly cut to black.)
Title: The Lost Appetite
Characters
VAL (50s): The eccentric owner of a magical antique shop.
COOPER (20s): A heartbroken young man looking for relief.
Setting
A dusty shop filled with jars containing glowing liquids, floating pocket watches, and old books.
(The play begins. COOPER stands before a glass counter. VAL carefully places a tiny, corked blue vial on the counter.)
VAL: This is it. One drop on your tongue, and the memory of her vanishes completely.
COOPER: (Stares at the vial) Completely? Like we never met?
VAL: Exactly. The restaurants you shared will just be buildings. Her favorite songs will just be noise.
COOPER: Good. The grief is heavy. It feels like breathing glass every morning.
VAL: It works perfectly. But you must understand the cost of my inventory.
COOPER: I have the money right here. (Reaches for his wallet)
VAL: I do not take paper money, kid. I take the inspiration.
COOPER: Meaning what?
VAL: You loved her deeply because you are an artist. If I take the pain of her loss, I must also take the passion that grew it. You will never paint again.
COOPER: (Hand freezes over the wallet, then moves toward the vial) ...I’ll just be normal?
VAL: You will be empty. No glass in your lungs, but no color in your head either. Choose.
(COOPER hesitates. He grips the vial, lifts it halfway to his mouth, then stops. He looks at his hands, sets the vial down, and walks out without a word. VAL sighs, picks up the vial, and places it back under the glass.)
VAL: (To himself) Still an artist.
(The stage lights dim to a soft blue, then fade entirely to black.)
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