No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.
Any resemblance to actual people and events is purely coincidental.
This is a work of fiction.
ISBN: 9798334408623
Cast Of Characters:
Stanton Stewart: 30ish Caucasian male from Massachusetts stock. Handsome and youthfully fit. Venture capitalist. Graduate of Harvard University.
Sara Burroughs: a statuesque 27-year-old Caucasian female with thick, raven hair and a nervous nature. Nurse. Cousin to Stanton Stewart.
William Armstrong: a tall, squarely built 30-ish man with straight sandy-blonde hair and a broad, unlined tanned face. Midwesterner. Ph.D. in biochemistry.
Eleanor Tividor: laboratory technician assistant to William Armstrong.
ACT 1
Scene I:
TIME: July
SET: Hasty Pudding Club Building, Harvard Social Club, Holyoke Street, Harvard Square, Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA. – Upstairs at the Pudding Restaurant. It is 07:00 PM.
ENTER: Sara Burroughs, a statuesque 27 year old female with thick, raven hair and a nervous nature. She presents herself to the maître d’s podium.
SARA:
Good evening. I am here to meet Mr. Stanton Stewart.
MAITRE D:
Your party is here.
Maître D leads Sara onto a trellised terrace crowded with diners. STANTON STEWART (a trim, handsome 30-ish male) sits at a four-top table set for three in the corner; he stands in greeting at their approach.
SARA:
Sorry I am late.
STANTON:
You are not late.
Maitre D EXITS as Sara sits; Stanton sits.
STANTON:
Relax. (Pours her a glass of wine) You are wind up like a violin wire.
SARA:
(Takes a sip of wine)
Telling me not to relax only makes me more nervous.
STANTON:
You are a strange one, Cuz. I never understand why you are so damn self-conscious; sitting here in a room full of people you will never see again. Let your hair down.
SARA:
I have no control over my hair. As for your inability to understand my unease, it is understandable. You are so self-assured that it is impossible for you to image what it is like not to be so.
STANTON:
Oh, posh! All our lives all I have ever asked of you is to “just give me a chance”. Explain to me why you are feeling uncomfortable at this moment. Your hands are shaking.
SARA:
Fine. I am nervous mainly because I feel thrown together. After your call this evening, I barely had time to take a shower, much less find something to wear.
STANTON:
I think your dress is smashing. No doubt about it. Sara, you look gorgeous.
SARA:
(Laughs)
I am smart enough to know that provoked compliments are invariably false.
STANTON;
Balderdash. You are a sexy, beautiful young woman, even though you act as if you have not a clue, which I suppose, is somewhat endearing – even for a twenty-five year old.
SARA:
Twenty-seven.
STANTON:
Twenty-seven and improving with each year. You have got cheekbones other women would die for, skin like a newborn’s bottom, and a ballerina’s figure—not to mention those emerald eyes that could mesmerize a Greek statue. If things were different…
SARA:
…we would not be related and you would have to be attracted to the fairer gender! Yes, very different. And, I think we should change the subject. This conversation is just making me more uncomfortable.
STANTON:
My apologies for being truthful. What shall we discuss?
SARA:
How about explaining why my presence here at dinner was such an emergency.
STANTON:
I need your help.
SARA:
The great financier needs my help?
STANTON:
No. In a few months, I am launching an initial public offering for a biotech company called InnoGenTech.
SARA:
I am not investing.
STANTON:
I am not looking for money. No, it is something quite different. I happened to be talking to Aunt Lida today and …
SARA:
Oh, no! What did my mother say now?
STANTON:
She just happened to mention that you had recently ended your relationship with your boyfriend.
SARA:
I wish my mother would not open her big mouth. She never interferes with Catherine’s private life.
STANTON:
Your sister is happily married. Look, your mother did not give me any gory details; all she told me was that Kinnard was not right for you, which I happen to agree with if he is forever traipsing off with his friends to ski and fish.
SARA:
That sounds like details to me. It is also an exaggeration. The fishing is a new thing; the skiing is once a year.
STANTON:
Truthfully, I was hardly listening. Not until she asked me if I could find someone more appropriate for you.
SARA:
Good heavens! She actually asked you to fix me up with someone?
STANTON:
It is not my usual forte, interfering in the ‘other side’s’ mating rituals, but after I hung up with Lida, I had a brainstorm.
SARA:
Is that why you got me here tonight?
STANTON:
Calm down. William Armstrong is going to fail for you like a ton of bitcoins.
SARA:
This is ridiculous!
STANTON:
I should admit up front that I have an ulterior motive. I have been trying to get William involved in one of my biotech companies since I became a venture capitalist. With InnoGenTech about to go public, there is no time like the present. The idea is to get him beholden by introducing him to you, Sara. Then maybe I can twist his arm to get him on the InnoGenTech scientific advisory board. William is a genius. His name on the prospectus is worth a good four or five mil. In the process, I can make him a millionaire.
SARA:
Pimping me out? Your own cousin? Well, I am not feeling used or embarrassed nor irritated at all! You know I have always had trouble expressing myself in confrontational situations. And, it does not help, Stanton, that you have always amazed me. Nevertheless, I am not naive to your manipulative and self-serving nature…
STANTON:
Sara…You are babbling…
ARA:
Have you ever thought that maybe this William Armstrong does not want to be a millionaire?
STANTON:
Nonsense. He is a Republican. Every Republican wants to be a millionaire.
SARA:
Perfect! Just what I need in my life, a political polar opposite! I know it is difficult for you to understand. But, not everyone thinks the way you do. I am not at my scintillating best when it comes to making conversation with geniuses.
STANTON:
Trust me. You two will hit it off. You have common backgrounds. William is an M.D. He was a classmate of mine at Harvard Med. We teamed up on lab stuff until he took his third year off and got a Ph.D. in biochem.
SARA:
He is a practicing doctor?
STANTON:
No. Research. His expertise is the chemistry of the brain. Right now he is the rising star of the field—a scientific celebrity of sorts that Harvard was able to steal back from Stanford. And, speaking of the devil, here he comes now!
ENTER: WILLIAM ARMSTRONG, a tall, squarely built 30-ish man with straight sandy-blonde hair and a broad, unlined tanned face. He heads passed the maître d podium for the table. Stanton stands clasping Willian’s hand that develops into an enthusiastic bear hug.
STANTON:
Sara, I would like to introduce you to my dear friend, Doctor William Armstrong. William it is my pleasure for you to meet my dearest cousin, Sara Burroughs.
WILLIAM:
(After shaking Sara’s hand, he sits)
A pleasure. I am terribly sorry for being late.
STANTON:
Two birds of a feather. My gorgeous, talented cousin here said the same thing when she arrive five seconds ago. (Pours a glass of wine for William, and then sits.) Relax, William. You are not late. I said around seven. You are prefect.
WILLIAM:
(Lifts his wine glass)
I just meant that you were two were here waiting.
STANTON:
Good idea. Let me propose a toast to my darling cousin (lifts his wine glass), Sara Burroughs. She is the best surgical intensive care nurse at Mass General, bar none. If you have to have your prostate plumbing patched up, just pray Sara is available.
SARA:
Stanton, please.
STANTON:
What? Okay, okay. Let me get back to my toast. I would be derelict in my duty if I did not bring it to the group’s attention that Sara’s sterling genealogy extends back just shy of the Mayflower. That is paternally. Maternally she only goes back to the Revolutionary War, which, I might add, is my inferior side of the family.
SARA:
Stanton, this is hardly necessary.
STANTON:
But, there is more. Sara’s first relative to graduate from dear-old Harvard did so in 1670 and, in 1673, married his first wife Hannah Fisher. In 1674, Great-great-great-great four times more or so Granddaddy Burroughs moved from Salem, Mass to Falmouth, Maine where he served as the pastor at the Falmouth Congregational Church. He continued to serve as the pastor until the town was attacked and destroyed during a Wabanaki raid on August 11, 1676. Burroughs and other survivors, including a young Mercy Lewis and her family, fled to an island in the Casco Bay where they foraged for food until they were rescued, according to a letter from Major Brian Pendleton to the Governor of Massachusetts.
WILLAIM:
You mean, the Reverend George Burroughs who was accused of witchcraft during the Salem Witch Trials of 1692?
STANTON:
None other…
SARA:
Stanton, that is not information meant for public disclosure. Just as it was your great-grandmother times eight who also was hanged for witchcraft in Salem!
STANTON:
The Burroughs and the Stewarts have a ridiculous hang-up that such ancient history is a blight on the family names.
SARA:
Ridiculous or not, people have a right to their feelings. My father has never said one thing about it to me. My mother is the one who is most concerned about the issue, and she is your aunt and a former Lewis. I think we should change the subject.
WILLIAM:
It’s okay, Sara. Afterall, most of us can trace some lineage back to colonial times.
STANTON:
Agreed. Here is to William Armstrong, the most productive, creative, intelligent neurochemist in the world—no, in the universe. A man who has come from the streets of … some small town in Ohio, put himself through school, and should already be booking a flight to Stockholm for his Nobel Prize, which he is a shoo-in to win for his work with neurotransmitters, memory, and quantum mechanics!
Stanton extends his wineglass, and everyone clinks glasses and drinks.
STANTON:
Now that you two have met, I expect you to fall in love, get married, and have plenty of offspring… I mean, children. All I ask for my part in bringing you together is that William agree to serve on the board of InnoGenTech. (Awkward pause) Okay, where the hell is the waiter? Let’s eat!
FACE TO BLACK.
SCENE II:
TIME: Supplemental, later that same night from Scene 1.
SET: Outside the Upstairs at the Pudding Restaurant. Harvard Square is nearby.
STANTON:
Who wants a lift home? I have my car in the Holyoke Center garage.
SARA:
I am happy with MTA.
WILLIAM:
My apartment is just a short walk.
STANTON:
Then you two are on your own.
Stanton EXITS:
WILLIAM:
Can I walk you to the subway?
SARA:
I would appreciate that. It is late.
The two walk together.
WILLIAM:
It is such a pleasant evening. How about a little scenic route in Harvard Square before you head home?
SARA:
I would enjoy that.
Sara and William stroll around the Square. They sit down on a low concrete wall. In the background OFF-STAGE, a woman’s voice singing a plaintive ballad while in the further distance panpipes can he heard.
SARA:
Stanton is truly a character.
WILLIAM:
I did not know to whom to be more embarrassed: you or me. In a way, I do envy Stanton. I wish I could be half as assertive. I have always been socially self-conscious.
SARA:
My feelings exactly. I have always been timid. When I am in social situations, I never can think of the appropriate thing to say. Five minutes later I can, but then it is too late.
WILLIAM:
Two birds of a feather, just as Stanton described us. He sure knows how to make us squirm. I die a slow death every time he brings up that nonsense about the Nobel Prize.
SARA:
I apologize on behalf of my entire family.
WILLIAM:
I should apologize as well. I should not speak ill of Stanton. He and I were med school classmates. I helped him in the lab; he helped me at parties. We have been friends ever since.
SARA:
Why have you not joined him in one of his ventures?
WILLIAM:
I have never been interested. I like academia, where the quest is for knowledge for knowledge’s sake. Not that I am against applied science. It is just not as engaging.
SARA:
Stanton says he could make you a millionaire.
WILLIAM:
How would that change my life? I am already doing what I want—research and teaching. A million dollars would just complicate things and create bias. I am happy the way I am.
SARA:
Odd point of view for a Republican.
WILLIAM:
Sorry.
SARA:
Oh, it is just that I tried to suggest as much to Stanton. But, he would not listen. He is so headstrong. He said every Republican wants to me a millionaire. He mentioned you are a Republican.
WILLIAM:
Well, I am more of a conservative. Nowadays, that does not equate to being a Republican. Nonetheless, charming. He certainly exaggerated about me when he gave that interminable toast. But, how about you? Can your family be traced back to seventeenth-century America?
SARA:
That much is true.
WILLIAM:
And, the Salem witchcraft story?
SARA:
True as well. But, it is not something I am comfortable talking about.
WILLIAM:
I am terribly sorry. Please forgive me. I should not have brought it up.
SARA:
Now I am sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I do not know why I am bothered about the witchcraft episode. It is probably because my mother thinks of it as a family disgrace.
WILLIAM:
Are you familiar with the episode?
SARA:
I know the basics.
WILLIAM:
I know a little more than most people. Harvard University Press published a book on the subject, called Salem Possessed. I read it and was intrigued. Care if I loan it to you?
SARA:
That would be nice.
WILLIAM:
I am serious. You will like it, and maybe it will change the way you think about the whole affair. For instance, did you know that within a few years of the trails some of the jurors and even some of the judges publicly recanted and asked for pardon because they realized innocent people had been executed?
SARA:
Really?
WILLIAM:
The fact that innocent people were hanged was not what really grabbed me. You know how one book leads to another? Well, I read another book, called Poisons Of The Past, which had the most interesting theory, especially for a neuroscientist like myself. It suggested that some of the young women of Salem who were suffering fits and accusing people of witchcraft were actually poisoned by ergot, which comes from a mold called Claviceps purpurea, a fungus that tends to grow on grain, particularly rye.
SARA:
Poisoned by ergot? What would that do?
WILLIAM:
Ooo-wee. Ever hear of the rock-group the Beatles? Well, they are known for the song ‘Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds’. It would have been something like that because ergot contains lysergic acid diethylamide, which is the prime ingredient of LSD.
SARA:
Ah, hence Lucy… got it! That means they would have experienced hallucinations and delusions.
WILLIAM:
Ergotism causes either a gangrenous reaction, which can be rapidly fatal, or a convulsive, hallucinogenic reaction. In Salem, it would have been the convulsive, hallucinogenic one.
SARA:
That is an interesting theory. Maybe my mother would feel differently about our ancestors if she knew of such an explanation.
WILLIAM:
That was my thought. At the same time, it cannot be the whole story. Ergot might have been the tinder that ignited the fire, but once it started, it turned into a conflagration of its own. People exploited the situation for economic and social reasons, although not necessarily on a conscious level.
SARA:
Now I feel embarrassed I have never been curious enough to read more about the witch trials. I should be particularly ashamed, since my executed ancestor’s property is still in the family’s possession. In fact, due to a minor feud between my father and my late grandfather, my sister and I inherited it just this year.
WILLIAM:
You mean to tell me your family has kept that land for three hundred years?
SARA:
Well, not the entire tract. Just the Salem part. Josiah Burroughs’s estate. Yet it is still a sizable tract.
WILLIAM:
That is extraordinary. Just think, you can walk on land where your seventeenth-century relatives trod.
SARA:
I can even do better than just walking on the land. I can go into the house. The old house still stands.
WILLIAM:
You are pulling my leg. I am not that gullible.
SARA:
I am not joking. It is not that unusual. There are many seventeen-century houses in the Salem area, including ones that belonged to other executed witches.
WILLIAM:
What is the condition of the house?
SARA:
Pretty good, I guess. I have not seen it since I was a child. But it looks okay for a house built in the 1670s. It has been passed down relative by relative through the centuries, remodeling when needed to keep it as close to authenticity as possible.
WILLIAM:
So, it has electrify and indoor plumbing?
SARA:
Yes. At the time, it was one of the first houses in the area to acquire them.
WILLIAM:
What are you and your sister going to do with it?
SARA:
Nothing until Catherine gets back from England, where she is currently running the family shipping business. She is supposed to be home in a year or so, and we will decide then. Unfortunately, the property is a white elephant, considering the taxes and the upkeep.
WILLIAM:
Did your grandfather live in the old house?
SARA:
Oh, goodness, no. That house has not been lived in for years.
WILLIAM:
I know I should not ask this… just say no, if it is not convenient…
SARA:
What is it?
WILLIAM:
I would really like to see that old house.
SARA:
I would be happy to show it to you. I have Saturday off this weekend. We could drive up then if it is convenient for you. I can get the keys from the lawyers.
WILLIAM:
Saturday would be perfect. In exchange, perhaps you would like to go to dinner Friday night?
SARA:
I accept. Now, I should get home. I have the seven to eleven shift at the hospital tomorrow.
WILLIAM:
Where do you live?
SARA:
Beacon Hill. I have a great apartment. Unfortunately, I have to move come September because my flatmate is getting married and she has the lease.
WILLIAM:
I have a similar problem. I live in an apartment on the third floor of a house. The owners have a baby coming and need the space. Therefore, I have to be out the first of September.
SARA:
Birds of a feather.
Together they EXIT.
FADE TO BLACK.
SCENE III:
TIME: Supplemental, the weekend from Scene II.
SET: William and Sara are in William’s car enroute to Salem. Both are in casual dress, khaki shorts and Tee-shirts.
SARA:
I am sorry to have kept you waiting.
WILLIAM:
I am sorry for being late. I had to run by the lab.
Both stared at each other for a beat, then burst out laughing.
SARA:
We are too much.
WILLIAM:
I cannot help it. I am always apologizing.
SARA:
No worries. This feels like a mini-vacation.
WILLIAM:
Particularly for me. I am ashamed to admit it, but I usually spend every day in the lab.
SARA:
Weekends, too?
WILLIAM:
Seven days a week. I guess I am just a boring person.
SARA:
I would say dedicated. I would also say you are very considerate. The flowers you have been sending are glorious.
WILLIAM:
Oh, it’s nothing.
SARA:
It is certainly not nothing to me.
WILLIAM:
I enjoyed dinner last night.
SARA:
Me, too. But I must apologize for talking so much about myself.
WILLIAM:
There you go apologizing again.
SARA:
I am hopeless.
WILLIAM:
I should be the one apologizing. It was my fault for bombarding you mercilessly with questions that I am afraid might have been borderline too personal.
SARA:
No worries. I was not offended. I just hope I did not scare you when I mentioned those anxiety attacks I used to get in college.
WILLIAM:
I used to get anxiety attacks in college before every exam, even though I never had any problems with grades.
SARA:
Mine were a little worse than run-of-the-mill.
WILLIAM:
Did you ever take anything for them?
SARA:
Xanax for a short time
WILLIAM:
Did you ever try Prozac?
SARA:
Never. Why would I take Prozac?
WILLIAM:
It can help both anxiety and shyness.
SARA:
Prozac has never been suggested. Plus, even if it had been, I would not have taken it. I am not in favor of using pharmaceuticals for minor personality flaws like shyness.
WILLIAM:
Sorry. I did not mean to offend you.
SARA:
I am not offended. Trust me, if you ever do, you will know. As a nurse, I see too many people taking too many prescribed drugs. Pharmaceutical companies have us to think there is a pill for every problem.
WILLIAM:
I basically agree with you. As a neuroscientist, I now see behavior and mood as biochemical and I have re-evaluated my attitude toward clean psychotropic medication.
SARA:
What do you mean, clean medication?
WILLIAM:
Medication with little or no side effects.
SARA:
All medication has side effects.
WILLIAM:
That is true. Some side effects are minor and certainly an acceptable risk in relation to the potential benefits.
SARA:
I guess that is the crux of the philosophical argument.
WILLIAM:
Oh, that reminds me. I have those two books I promised I would loan you.
William reaches into the back seat with a free hand, grabs the books, and slips them into Sara’s lap.
WILLIAM:
I tried to look up your ancestor in the one on the Salem witch trials. But, there is Josiah Burroughs in the index.
SARA:
Perhaps that is because he was one of Reverend Burroughs’s many children. He was never directly involved with the executions.
William glances off to one side…
WILLIAM:
Looks like we are within Salem’s city limits. (Pause) What is that place?
SARA:
It is called the Witch House. It is one of the prime tourist attractions in the area.
WILLIAM:
Is it truly seventeenth century? Or is it Disney-like re-creation?
SARA:
It is authentic. And surprisingly similar to the old house I am going to show you on the Burroughs family compound. Technically, it is not a witch house, since no witch lived in it. It was the home of Jonathan Corwin, one of the magistrates who conducted some of the preliminary hearings.
Both pause as William concentrates on driving, until….
WILLIAM:
Is this it?
SARA:
This is it. Just drive through the open gated entrance. The house is just beyond the few twists and turns of the driveway.
Another pause as William drives on….then stops the car…
WILLIAM:
An interesting mélange of styles. It is part medieval castle, part Tudor manor, part French chateau. It is amazing!
SARA:
The family calls it ‘the castle’.
WILLIAM:
I can see why. (Pause) What is that stone building to the right?
SARA:
That was once a mill. It was turned into stables a couple of hundred years ago.
WILLIAM:
And, to the left of the stables?
SARA:
That is the old family burial ground.
WILLIAM:
No fooling. Can we look?
SARA:
Of course. The family used the plot until the middle of the last century.
WILLIAM:
Is Josiah Burroughs in there?
SARA:
He is.
William parks the car. William exits the vehicle and then opens Sara’s.
SARA:
Such a gentleman.
WILLIAM:
Well, my mother raised me right and my father made sure I did right.
Together they walk toward a grave marker that reads:
Here Lyes Buried Y Body Josiah Burroughs Y Son George and Sarah Ruck Burroughs. 54 Years. Dec’d. October Y 31. 1715.
WILLIAM:
Fifty-four. Not quite a ripe old age. He must not have stayed away from doctors. In those days, with the reliance on bloodletting, doctors were as lethal as most illnesses. A horrible time.
SARAH:
You talk as I you were there!
WILLIAM:
I read a lot. Remember?
SARA:
Not much else is known about him. Any one of these other headstones could be his wife and other decedents. My grandfather always mentioned we are from one of his son’s line. I believe her name was Jacob.
WILLIAM:
Well at least you know part of the story. (Gestures toward the main house in the distance) You were not kidding when you said it looked like the Witch House. It has the same massive central chimney, the same steeply pitched gable roof, and the same diamond-shaped panes of glass. But the pendants under the overhand are much more decorative.
SARAH:
Whoever turned those had quite a flair.
WILLIAM:
What is that smaller structure?
SARAH:
I was told it was for the animals.
WILLIAM:
Shall we go inside?
SARAH:
Yes, let’s.
Sarah approaches the front door, pulls a set of keys out of her purse and unlocks it. Together they enter a small front hall. Directly ahead is a flight of stairs that twist up out of sight, on either side are doors. The door on the right leads into the kitchen, the one on the left to the parlor.
WILLIAM:
Let’s check the parlor.
With Sara, they walk through the left doorway. There is a profusion of furniture, gilt-framed paintings, and decorative objects. A huge fireplace dominates the room.
WILLIAM:
This is incredible. It is still furnished. (William walks over to a window and fingers the curtain fabric) I have never seen so much drapery in all my life. There must be a mile of this stuff.
SARA:
It is very old. It is silk damask.
WILLIAM:
(He glances up the flue)
Still in working order. It’s as if nothing has been touched.
SARA:
Very perceptive. The renovations were done without damaging the historical aspect of the house. All the ductwork, piping, and electric has been hidden.
WILLIAM:
Can you see the faint rectangle above the mantel?
SARA:
I see it. Looks like a painting used to hang there.
WILLIAM:
My thought exactly. Let’s see what the kitchen has to offer.
Both move into the kitchen space, where there is another fireplace.
WILLIAM:
Can you imagine cooking here?
SARA:
Not in a million years. I have enough trouble in a modern kitchen.
WILLIAM:
I see there is a summer kitchen in the lean-top part of the house.
SARA:
The massive fireplaces would not have been fired up in warmer weather.
WILLIAM:
Good point.
SARA:
What’s going through your mind?
WILLIAM:
Have you ever thought of living here?
SARA:
No. Even with the electrical wiring and indoor plumbing, it would be like camping out.
WILLIAM:
I wonder where they stored their food.
SARA:
I imagine in the cellar.
WILLIAM:
I don’t think there is one. I looked for an entrance when we walked around the house, but there wasn’t any.
Sara steps around a long trestle table and pulls aside a worn sisal mat.
SARA:
There is access through this trapdoor. (She pulls the door open). A ladder leads down into the all that darkness.
WILLIAM:
I have a flashlight in the car. I can run and get it.
FADE TO BLACK.
SCENE IV:
TIME: Supplemental, a few minutes after Scene III.
SET: The cellar is small. It is comprises only the area beneath the kitchen. The walls are flat fieldstone, the floor is dirt. There are wine racks built around the walls of individual rooms that could have functioned as cells. Each room has a wrought-iron door. Against the back wall is a series of bins. William and Sara are walking around. William shines his flashlight in several of the bins.
WILLIAM:
You are correct. Here is where the food was kept. The dirt in this bin is damp. I am no botanist, but I would wager it would be great for growing Claviceps purpurea.
SARA:
Can it be proved?
WILLIAM:
Possibly. It would depend on whether Claviceps spores could be found. If we could take some samples. I will have a botanist friend take a look at them. When did your grandfather die?
SARA:
He died the past spring. He was eccentric, especially after my grandmother died forty years ago. I never knew her.
WILLIAM:
(His flashlight is aimed on trunks and boxes)
What do you suppose is in those?
SARAH:
Memorabilia. Correspondence and documents.
WILLIAM:
There must be enough stuff in there to fill several railroad cars. How far back in time do you think all that goes?
SARA:
Right back to Josiah Burroughs’s time. Most of it is business-related, but there is personal correspondence as well. My sister and I used to sneak down here when we were kids to see who could find the oldest dates.
WILLIAM:
Let’s take a look.
As they begin to explore…
WILLIAM:
Somebody had a sense of humor. The only thing this cellar lacks is torture devices.
SARA:
My sister and I did not see it as funny. My grandfather did not have to tell us to stay out of those rooms. They terrified us.
WILLIAM:
And all these trunks and things are filled with papers?
SARA:
Every last one of them.
WILLIAM:
(Picks up one of the few wine bottles)
This is an 1896 vintage! A good year. It could be valuable.
SARA:
I sincerely doubt it. (Holding up some empty containers) Can we use this to take some spore samples?
WILLIAM:
Yes. They will do just fine.
Randomly they begin picking up sheets of paper…
WILLIAM:
A customs document from the nineteenth century. A bill of lading from the eighteenth century. I get the impression there isn’t much order here.
SARA:
There is no order. Every time the house was renovated, which had been fairly frequent up until this century, the papers were relocated and then returned. Over the centuries they got completely mixed up.
William’s flashlight’s beam plays across bureaus, trunks, and boxes until it stops on an oil painting leaning backwards against a wall. It appears to be of a young woman. With the tip of his finger, he wipes the dust from a small pewter plaque at the base of the painting and shines the flashlight on it.
WILLIAM:
Take a look at this.
SARA:
Sarah Burroughs Flannigan!
There is a creaking. Sara shivers…
WILLIAM:
Are you all right?
SARA:
Yes. Why?
WILLIAM:
You shuddered. But, not from cold.
SARA:
It is almost as if a ghost had... I had a superstitious maternal grandmother.
WILLIAM:
Well, if you want to knock on wood there is plenty of that about. What is so striking about it is that she looks like you. She could be your twin sister. Especially with those green eyes.
SARA:
Our hair is similar, and even the shape of our faces.
WILLIAM:
You definitely are related. It certainly is an attractive painting. Why is it hidden away in this wine cellar?
SARA:
It is weird. My grandfather must have known about it, and he could not have been concerned with my mother’s feelings. He and my mother never got along.
WILLIAM:
In-laws. Who can figure that dynamic. The size looks close to that shadow we noticed above the mantel in the parlor. Just for fun, why don’t we carry it up and see.
SARA:
I have a strange but good feeling about finding this painting. It’s like finding a long-lost relative.
William:
It is quite a coincidence. Especially since she’s the reason why we happen to be here.
SARA:
I think it’s more than coincidence. It has to mean something.
WILLIAM:
(Taking dirt from a bin)
Before we do anything more, let me finish collecting some samples from those bins.
With the painting, the two move to EXIT.
There is an odd creaking and groaning, as if the house is ‘settling’…
BLACKOUT.
ACT II
SCENE 1
TIME: August.
SET: William Armstrong’s lab at Harvard Medical Complex on Longfellow Avenue. It has the appearance of bedlam, with white-coated people scurrying in many directions among a futuristic array of high-technology equipment.
William ENTERS through one of the lab’s side doors. His closest assistant, ELEANOR TIVIDOR, approaches him; she is a bright, spirited blonde-haired woman who looks like she belongs with the surfing set.
ELEANOR:
You have a visitor.
WILLIAM:
I do not have the time for visitors.
ELEANOR:
I have the feeling that this one you have to see.
WILLIAM:
Who in heaven’s name is it?
ELEANOR:
Stanton Stewart. He cracks me up every time he comes in here. This time he wants me to invest in a new chemistry magazine called Bondage, with a foldout molecule of the month. I never know when he is serious.
WILLIAM:
He’s not serious. He’s being is usual polyamorous flirt. Any problems in the lab?
ELEANOR:
I am afraid so. The new system we have been using for micellar electro-kinetic capillary chromatography is being temperamental again. Should I call the rep?
WILLIAM:
I will take a look at it. Send Stanton over. I will take care of both problems at the same time.
Eleanor EXITS, a moment passes then Stanton ENTERS.
STANTON:
Hey, Sport! (Handing William a slick plastic-covered brochure) I have a surprise for you.
WILLIAM:
What is this?
STANTON:
It’s what you’ve been waiting for—the InnoGenTech prospectus.
WILLIAM:
You are too much.
STANTON:
How did your date with nurse Sara go?
WILLIAM:
I enjoyed meeting your cousin. She is terrific.
STANTON:
Did you two sleep together?
WILLIAM:
That is hardly appropriate.
STANTON:
Rather touchy. That means yes. That means you are beholden to me. The price, my dear friend, is that you have to read this prospectus.
WILLIAM:
All right. I will read the blasted thing.
STANTON:
Good. You should know about the company, because I am in a position to offer you seventy-five thousand dollars a year plus stock options to be on the Board.
WILLIAM:
I don’t have time to go to any damn meetings, Stanton.
STANTON:
Who’s asking you to come to meetings? I just want your name on the initial public offering. (Points to a machine) What the hell is that?
WILLIAM:
It’s a capillary electrophoresis unit. It is used to separate and identify compounds.
STANTON:
Does it work?
WILLIAM:
Usually it works great. At the moment, something is wrong. (Examines the machine) Well, isn’t this pleasant. The thrill of the positive diagnosis of remedial problem. (He tinkers, the machine whirs. William closes the machine access lid).
STANTON:
So, I can count on you to read the prospectus and think about the offer?
WILLIAM:
Getting money for nothing bothers me.
STANTON:
Why? If star athletes can sign on with athletic shoe companies, why can’t scientist do the equivalent?
WILLIAM:
I will think about it.
STANTON:
That’s all I ask. I’m telling you, I can make you some money.
Stanton EXITS. Eleanor ENTERS.
ELEANOR:
All fixed?
WILLIAM:
All fixed. Now, I want you to see if you can find Claviceps purpurea in the containers I placed on the analysis desk.
ELEANOR:
Can you tell me why?
WILLIAM:
You’d never guess. The spores are concerning the background of Salem’s witch trials.
ELEANOR:
Intriguing. When do you want an answer?
WILLIAM:
As soon as possible.
ELEANOR:
DNA will take time. There are probably three to five thousand species in each sample. Besides, the most definitive method would be if we could grow Clavicpes. I will give it a shot.
WILLIAM:
I would appreciate whatever you can do.
FADE TO BLACK.
SCENE II
TIME: Supplemental, a weekend.
SET: Salem house’s wine cellar. Sara ENTERS via the ladder carrying a candlelit lantern and makes her way to one of the anteroom’s ‘cell’ and begins to search through a file cabinet. She opens a document and begins to read it aloud:
SARA:
Twenty-first of June Sixteen-seventy-nine. Sir. There hath been several days since your letter hath arrive. I hath had discourse with y family over my fancy for your daughter Elisabeth who is a high spirited girl. If it be God’s will may I have her hand in marriage provided ye shall give me work and move y family to Salem Town? Y threat of Indian raids here in Andover hath caused me much Disquietude. Ye humble servant, James Flanagan.
Sara returns the document, then pauses as she hears footsteps.She turns toward the ladder and sees a pair of black shoes and trousers come relentlessly down the rungs.
WILLIAM:
Sara? Are you down here?
SARA:
Yes! Yes! You scared me. What are you doing here, anyway? I certainly didn’t expect to see you this weekend.
WILLIAM:
I called your apartment. Your flatmate told me you drove out here with the idea of prepping the house for you to take up residency in September. On the spur of the moment, I decided to come. I feel responsible, since I suggested it.
SARA:
That was considerate.
WILLIAM:
I am sorry for having scared you.
SARA:
Never mind. It’s my fault for letting my imagination take over. I thought you were a ghost.
WILLIAM:
So you have started on with your historical search? Find anything?
SARA:
Yes, I have.
Sara hands William the letter. He skim-reads it.
WILLIAM:
Fascinating. Seems Elisabeth’s father used her as a bargaining chip in a business deal.
SARA:
I know times then were harsher and people had to team up just to survive. Individual interests weren’t a high priority. That doesn’t warrant making a deal with your daughter’s life, treating her like a piece of property.
WILLIAM:
True. But, then again, that doesn’t mean Elisabeth didn’t have a say in whether she wanted to marry. It might even have been a source of comfort for her to know that she was providing for the rest of her family. For all you know, she could have even taken a lover on the side to cope.
SARA:
Maybe so. My intuition tells me that Elisabeth was an entirely innocent person caught in a tragedy by some insidious trick of fate.
WILLIAM:
I’d say that finding this letter is auspicious. If there’s one, there’s got to be more. And, now that you have decided to live here, you may find more as you start to clear out what you don’t want to keep.
SARA:
I’ve always wanted to be an interior decorator. My father talked me out of it. As with my mother, I wasn’t close to him, either. But, unlike my mother, he did have a big effect on me. I even went into nursing because he thought it was an appropriate career.
WILLIAM:
Well, even with its modern conveniences, this ole place would not be livable for quite some time. Would you care to come over to my apartment when we get back to the city?
SARA:
Um. William.
WILLIAM:
Yes?
SARA:
Um. I think maybe things are moving a little too swiftly for me. I’ve felt very comfortable with you, but I don’t want to rush things.
WILLIAM:
Of course.
SARA:
I do enjoy your company. I’m off next Friday and Saturday if that works with your schedule.
WILLIAM:
How about dinner Thursday?
SARA:
It’ll be a pleasure. Oh. By the way, did your lab find any Claviceps pupurea?
WILLIAM:
Nope. None. But, don’t look so glum. There was plenty of other mold. One of them morphologically resembles Claviceps purpurea, but it’s an unknown species.
SARA:
No kidding. Of course, that’s not surprising. There are approximately fifty thousand known species of fungi, and some people believe that up to a quarter of million actually exist.
WILLIAM:
True. This mold is an ascomycete, like Claviceps, and it forms sclerotia, just like Claviceps. The chances are good that it contains the same alkaloids as Claviceps. I actually made a little brew of it and brought it with me.
SARA:
You’re joking, I hope.
William removes a metal flask from his trouser’s back-pocket.
WILLIAM:
Where’s your adventuresome spirit?
SARA:
You’re serious, aren’t you?
WILLIAM:
Very much so. Since this stuff has a hallucinogenic effect, it has a miniscule dose—only contains less than a microgram. (Opens the flask) To your health.
William swallows a mouthful of the liquid within the flask.
SARA:
Well?
WILLIAM:
I’m beginning to feel mildly dizzy.
SARA:
Are you sure you weren’t dizzy before you started?
WILLIAM:
Something’s happening.
SARA:
What?
WILLIAM:
I’m seeing a flood of colors moving around in ameboid shapes, like some kind of ka-leid-o-scope. Now I’m hearing sounds like a synthesizer. My mouth is a bit dry. Oooo, my arms feel paresthesia, as if I am being bitten or lightly pinched. It’s weird. It feels like the room is moving. And there’s a mild choking sensation.
SARA:
(Fumbling in her pants’ pocket for her mobile phone)
I’ll call for help.
WILLIAM:
No. It’s okay. The colors are receding. It’s passing. I think we got our answer.
SARA:
This was idiotic!
WILLIAM:
Calm down. Don’t get all bent out of shape over a sixty-second psychedelic reaction.
SARA:
It was more like twenty minutes.
WILLIAM:
Isn’t that curious. Even my sense of time was distorted.
SARA:
Do you generally feel okay?
WILLIAM:
Fine. In fact, I feel better than fine. I feel – energized. And clairvoyant, like my mind is particularly sharp. Maybe it is just I have ‘good’ genes, but I even feel a touch of euphoria. That could be because we have just ascertained that this new fungus produces a hallucinogenic substance.
SARA:
Let’s not be so lax with the term ‘we’.
WILLIAM:
I think we have solved the question of what at least kicked off the Salem witch trials. We’ll probably get a nice little paper out of this, perhaps we can create the next-generation drug to the likes of Prozac and Xanax. It’ll be nontoxic, have fewer side effects, and probably a broader therapeutic capability.
SARA:
Well until then, I best start getting ready to head back…
Sara moves with the lantern to start packing up all the loose papers she had been searching through before William joined her. While moving some boxes, she freezes as some of the floor dirt is disturbed…
SARA:
William!!
WILLIAM:
What is it, Sara?
Sara bends down with lantern in hand and clears off a piece of the floor with her hands.
SARA:
Dear heavens!
William joins her on the floor…
WILLIAM:
Did you find something?
SARA:
Yes.
WILLIAM:
What?
SARA:
A grave marker!
In the background, there can be heard the creaking and groaning of the house…
WILLIAM:
It’s been laid flat and covered with earth.
SARA:
It’s Elisabeth!
The candle in the lantern blows out … then …
BLACK OUT.
SCENE III
TIME: Late August.
SET: A restaurant in Boston, the view out the main bay window is that of Main Street, with its collection of pizza and Indian restaurants. William and Sara are sitting at a ‘cozy’ table next to the window.
Stanton ENTERS:
STANTON:
Okay, you two. What is the big news? Should I order a bottle of Dom Perignon?
WILLIAM:
I have already ordered wine.
STANTON:
You ordered wine? But they don’t serve boxed beverages here.
WILLIAM:
I ordered an Italian wine. A cool, dry wine goes nicely with hot summer weather.
STANTON:
So, what is it? Are you two getting married?
WILLIAM:
I should be so lucky. I have some news, but it is not that good.
STANTON:
Well, don’t keep it all to yourself…
SARA:
William thinks he can create the next-generation drug to the likes of Prozac and Xanax!
WILLIAM:
Say, what?
WILLIAM:
A drug that seems to be perfect. It’s nontoxic, has fewer side effects, and probably a broader therapeutic capability.
STANTON:
What can this drug do?
WILLIAM:
I believe it will have a general, positive impact on mood. It seems to be antidepressant and anxiolytic, meaning it lowers anxiety.
STANTON:
Wow! Anything else?
SARA:
It also seems to combat fatigue, increase contentment, sharpen senses, and enhance long-term memory.
STANTON:
You’re talking about a billion-dollar drug!
WILLIAM:
None of this has been proven. There has been no controlled experiments.
STANTON:
But you are confident that it can do all these things.
WILLIAM:
Very confident
SARA:
The drug seems to stabilize the brain’s major neurotransmitters.
WILLIAM:
. It affects individual neurons but also whole networks of cells, as if it were an autocoid or brain hormone.
STANTON:
Where did it come from?
SARA:
Would you believe our forebears from the Salem witch trials?
STANTON:
You’re joking!
SARA:
The theory is that the accusers in Salem had been poisoned by a mold.
WILLIAM:
It was Sara’s question---whether the poison theory could be proved—that got me to take some samples of dirt.
STANTON:
Ironic. Finding a useful drug in a dirt sample.
WILLIAM:
The irony is, this drug is coming from what was once perceived as ‘the devil’.
SARA:
Don’t say that. It gives me the creeps.
STANTON:
I’m not happy about the association either. I would rather consider it as a god-sent drug! What are you going to do now?
WILLIAM:
That’s why I wanted to see you. What do you think I should do?
STANTON:
Simple. Form a company and patent the drug. Trust me. I know what I am talking about. This is my area of expertise. The next question is, how long before you will be ready to market this new drug? The average duration from discovery of a potential drug to its FDA approval and marketing is about twelve years, the average cost is around two hundred million dollars – give or take a few thousand.
WILLIAM:
I don’t think I can answer that now. I can’t even be one hundred percent sure it will ever be marketable. And, then there’s the whole issue of a lab.
SARA:
Hey! What about the house in Salem?
STANTON:
What about the house in Salem?
SARA:
I’m moving into the house.
STANTON:
Sounds ideal. But, are you willing to have William move in with you?
WILLIAM:
Whoa…
SARA:
Yes. William, what about moving into the house with me come the first of September?
WILLIAM:
Hmm…hmmm. That’s very generous. But maybe we should talk about it.
STANTON:
Talk about it?
WILLIAM:
I’m just afraid you are inviting me impulsively, that you will change your mind and then not know how to disinvite me.
STANTON:
Oh, please! Is that really your reason for feeling reluctant? Dive in, Man. The water’s fine!
SARA:
Stanton! I’m not going to change my mind.
STANTON:
Wonderful! It’s settled, you old rogue!
WILLIAM:
Fine. We can use the mill-turned-stables on the compound.
SARA:
It would make a perfect lab for this project because of its isolation.
STANTON:
Excellent. And, Catherine doesn’t need to know any of this. She’s away in Lon…
SARA:
Damn! I forgot all about Catherine. She owns half of the compound.
STANTON:
Just call her. Explain the situation. If she has any anxiety over this, have her talk to me—another area of my expertise! Consider it a done deal! I’ll start to make some investor phone calls.
SARA/WILLAIM:
Okay…
STANTON:
That’s what I like to hear. Decisiveness. Now, where the hell is that wine?
FADE TO BLACK.
SCENE IV:
TIME: Supplemental, the following weekend from Scene III.
SET: Salem House. Stables in the middle of conversion into a lab—the main floor is a long hall with stalls to stage right and tack rooms to stage left, a rough-hewn oak stairway leads to a window-lined upper level upstage left. Stanton is on his mobile phone talking upstage left by the stairway while Sara is packing away shelves of clothbound ledgers arranged along one side of the set, downstage right, next to a closed double barn door.
STANTON:
Yes. That’s right the plans are for converting the barn rapidly into a state-of-the-art laboratory. Downstairs there is to be quarters for the experimental animals. The upstairs would house the main laboratory as well as a large mainframe computer. Every laboratory bench will have its own terminal. Power? The power for all the electronic equipment will have to have a huge electrical service. It will have to be brought in. Can you see any problems? Great. A reception area? No. That won’t be necessary. We won’t be having visitors. Do you foresee having any problems with the permits? No. Excellent. I will leave the civic relations to you. I am interested in expediting this project. When can you start?
All the while, Sara has stopped packing. She has focused in on one of the clothbound ledgers...
SARA:
“Sea Witch”.
Sara cracks the book open and begins to read…
SARA:
It’s a ship’s log. 1791 to 1802.
Sara closes the ledger, places it in a box; then notices the dates on the other ledgers…
SARA:
Seven more with the name “Sea Witch”. The oldest goes from 1737 to 1749.
Stops to look at one with a worn leather spine and no name. She opens it to the title page…
SARA:
It is the log for a brig called Endeavor and covers the years from 1679 to 1703.
Sara reads on… then, stops on a particular page.
SARA:
1692. The 24th of January. The weather is cold and clear, with a good westerly wind. The ship is bound for Liverpool with a load of whale oil, timber, fur, and dried cod and mackerel—appetizing! Aboard is a distinguished passenger, James Flanagan, Esquire, the ship’s owner, on passage to Sweden to take possession of a new ship to be called Sea Spirit.
As Sara reads, a small packet slips from the ledger to the floor. Noticing it, Sara picks up the packet, opens it, there are several papers, she reads the top one…
SARA:
Addressed to James Flanagan, Esquire. It’s a deed. And, here’s Elisabeth’s signature. She must have had to sign it because James was out at sea.
Sara reads the second piece of paper…
SARA:
Dear James, I understand that you are troubled in spirit although I hope in God’s name that your recent marriage may ease your disquietude. I understand your wish to contain the knowledge of your wife’s association with the…William!
William ends his phone call and rushes to Sara’s side.
WILLIAM:
What is it, Sara?
SARA:
A letter! From October 23, 1692! It’s about Elisabeth.
WILLIAM:
Okay. What about her?
SARA:
…I understand your wish to contain the knowledge of your wife’s association with the …Prince of Darkness! To this purpose, I would have you apply to Reverend Cotton Mather in whose cellar you espied your wife’s infernal doings. Official custody of evidence has been granted in perpetuity to Reverend Mather according to his request.
WILLIAM:
What does it all mean?
SARA:
Elisabeth Burroughs Flanagan, my ancestor, was accused of witchcraft! By her own husband! Here’s a third letter written by Cotton Mather!
WILLIAM:
What does it say?
SARA:
I am in receipt of your letter…I comprehend your wish to shield your family …Elisabeth’s evidence should be preserved for the future combat with the forces of evil…her conviction of being in a true covenant with the Wilcoxon Coven… the Devil…Damn it!
In the background, the creak and groan of the stable can be suddenly heard…
SARA:
I am feeling a little uneasy.
WILLIAM:
What about?
SARA:
I am not entirely sure. I suppose it has something to do with what happened to Elisabeth and that some of my genes are also Elisabeth’s genes. (She shivers). I sense her presence.
WILLIAM:
Now do not start getting weird on me. You do not believe in ghosts, do you?
SARA:
I’m not sure. The way I found Elisabeth’s grave gives me chills. And, now these letters that accuse her of being in league with the Prince of Darkness…
The creaking and groaning grow louder…
WILLIAM:
If you want to believe some mystical force guided you to find all of this, that’s fine. Just don’t ask me to subscribe to it.
SARA:
How else can you explain what happened?
WILLIAM:
Okay, I’m not going to try to talk you out of it. Calm down, I’m on your side.
A sudden movement off Stage Right catches Sara’s eye and she stifles a scream…
WILLIAM:
Sara? What is it?
SARA:
William. We are not alone…
There is a flash of light, then a slow roll of thunder…
WILLIAM:
Sara, it is just a thunderstorm.
The sound of rain battering the slate roof above can be heard. Lightning flashes and thunder follow.
WILLIAM:
See. It is meteorological, not supernatural.
SARA:
Sure…
Suddenly all goes pitch black…BLACK OUT…
SARA:
The lights. Must be a fuse. Right, William? William? Where are you?
In another flash of lightning, William can be seen sprawled on his back, his arms and legs outstretched. Sara bends down next to him and shakes him vigorously.
SARA:
William! William, answer me! What happened?
William’s head flops from side to side like a rag doll.
SARA:
William! Stop this! It isn’t funny! William, what’s wrong with you?!
William groans. He appears disoriented. His eyes narrow to mere slits, while his upper lip curls back like a snarling beat’s. His expression is contorted into one of sheer rage. Sara releases his shoulders and backs away. William lets out a throaty sound akin to a growl and sits up. He stares at Sara.
WILLIAM:
In nomine dei nostril satans luciferin excelsi! Convocatis elementa invocat ultionem facere iubente.
Sara bolts for the exit Downstage Right. William springs after her. The double doors will not open. More lightning, thunder. Sara screams and flees Stage Left toward the stairway. William snarls as he pursues her up to the upper level.
SARA:
William! Why are you doing this? What’s wrong with you?
Sara is pinned against the upper level’s windowed wall. William stalks her…
WILLIAM:
(In a guttural tone)
You never asked about my lineage, Sara. Why not, Sara? Never bothered to ask about my ancestors.
SARA:
You said you were from Ohio…
WILLIAM:
Yes, Sara, Ohio. But by way of Massachusetts.
SARA:
What are you say?
WILLIAM:
Wilcoxon. From Salem!
SARA:
I don’t understand
WILILAM:
Elisabeth betrayed us. Confessed. A Judas at the Garden of Gethsemane.
SARA:
But, I am not Elisabeth.
WILLIAM:
No. Her descendant.
SARA:
Who are you?
WILLIAM:
Samuel Wilcoxon. Of the Coven Wilcoxon. On that day centuries ago, my life ended and my search began. I was the one chosen…transformed... my cells were altered... my aging slowed...enough to finish my task.
SARA:
Murdering innocent people – is that your task? Then what?
WILLIAM:
Your family members are the last. Once all of you are dead, what happens to me does not matter.
SARA:
William... Samuel. That was centuries ago.
Lightning and thunder…
WILLIAM:
You cannot understand…
SARA:
No, I cannot. You are right. Because I have seen the part of you that regrets what you have become... Samuel, listen to me...you do not have to do this any more.
William’s face shows regret.
WILLIAM:
I have no choice…
SARA:
You do...William…
And now the regret really shows through on William/Samuel’s face. Haltingly, he extends a hand in Sara’s direction --
WILLIAM:
Sara—I--
Lightning and thunder intensify…William howls and runs down the stairway, clutching his head in agony. Sara follows with him…
SARA:
William. Listen to me. Listen to the sound of my voice. Listen and know the love I have for you. Remember the love you have for me. Feel our love. It can overcome any other force!
More lightning and thunder…
WILLIAM:
I—I—
SARA:
Take that extra step! Do not stay a pawn! You cannot deny how you feel about me.
WILLIAM:
You are … right … I do … feel… something.
WHISPERS:
(Offstage)
Stop. No. No, Samuel. No, Samuel. Kill her.
William grabs a pentagram pendent that he has had hidden under his shirt. He tugs at it.
WHISPERS:
(Offstage)
No, no, Samuel. Stop.
More lightning, thunder. A shadow rushes over Sara, she gasps, her eyes become transfixed. Her demeanor toward William/Samuel changes...
SARA:
Samuel. After all these centuries. You still doth love me.
WILLIAM:
Elisabeth?! Is that you? Really you?
SARA:
Aye. You forget there are many paths to immortality.
WHISPERS:
(Offstage)
No, no, Samuel. Stop. Do not listen.
SARA:
As I once asked of you before. I ask again. Join me. We need no other. Remember.
WILLIAM:
I do.
WHISPERS:
(Offstage)
No, no, Samuel. Stop. Don’t listen.
Sara holds out her hand, indicating the pendent…
WHISPERS:
(Offstage)
Samuel. Stop. Do not do it!
William breaks the pendent cord and hands the pentagram to Sara. She drops it to the floor and stomps on it, breaking it.
There is a cacophony of ghostly screams, lightning and thunder… until… total silence.
BLACK OUT.
SCENE V:
TIME: January, the next year from Scene IV.
SET: Hallway of lab at Harvard Medical Complex. SPOTLIGHT on Eleanor with Stanton as they enter from STAGE RIGHT, she holds an electronic tablet in one hand.
ELEANOR:
(Refers to the tablet)
One of the alkaloids from the new fungus has shown promise as a new antidepressant.
STANTON:
Good. Any progress on that molecule you found in Mr. Armstrong’s blood?
ELEANOR:
Yes. We are trying to determine what part of the Salem Molecule is responsible for the mesolimbic cerebral blockage we have labeled the Mr. Hyde Effect.
STANTON:
And, from what I just witness, there is not much improvement in Mr. Armstrong’s condition.
ELEANOR:
No. I am sorry; there has not been any improvement. As you just witnessed, one moment he is fine, the next he transforms and without any warning or provocation, he launches into a feral fit. Then his face goes slack and his eyes roll up into his head, then he sags like a balloon with its air slowly let out.
STANTON:
Sad. Such a brilliant mind gone to waste. And, it’s all because of a flashback from him taking that one dose of his experimental elixir?
ELEANOR:
Yes. That is the current theory. So, sad.
STANTON:
Do what you can to expedite your findings. If Big Pharm runs out of patience, then I can always shop our ‘little’ discovery to the Pentagon.
ELEANOR:
I do apologize, but I have to get back to the lab. I have several sequential tests running that I have to see through. I promise to keep you informed of any change...
Downstage lights warm up as Sara ENTERS from STAGE LEFT.
STANTON:
Sara!
ELEANOR:
Miss Burroughs!
STANTON:
Thanks for driving into the city and meeting me here. How are you?
SARA:
I am fine. How is he?
ELEANOR:
No change.
SARA:
Will he be all right?
ELEANOR:
Do not worry. We have been experimenting with various tranquilizers. I am pleased with how quickly this last one has worked.
SARA:
May I see him?
ELEANOR:
He is sedated. He had another fit this morning. Another time would be best for a visit. If you would like, I can call you when he is lucid again.
SARA:
That would be fine. Thank you for all you are doing for him.
ELEANOR:
All we can do is the best we can.
SARA:
Yes. That is all any of us can do.
STANTON:
So, how about that bit of New Year’s lunch I promised you, Sara?
SARA:
Sure, Stanton.
Sara nods and turns to EXIT with Stanton STAGE LEFT, she stops as Eleanor EXITS STAGE RIGHT.
STANTON:
Everything all right, Sara?
A spotlight frames Sara as she smiles with a chuckle… then …
BLACK OUT.
A spotlight highlights the painting of Elisabeth Burroughs Flannigan UPSTAGE.
THE END (?)
About The Author
Born in the Midwest, raised in the Northeast, writer/author/play and screenwriter, E. Robert Dunn began writing at the age of 14 and continued through his higher education in the Southeast where he currently resides. In addition to penning the science fiction series “Echelon’s End”, E. Robert has also written two off-Broadway plays, “LipSync” and “A Dragged Out Haunting”, and solo-penned the short-play entitled “VOiCES”. Additional works include, “The World We Live In”, “The Life Of Another”, and “Are You Happy?”. E. Robert was a contributing writer to the online STAR TREK: Odyssey’s Season One Finale webisode [featured in STARLOG Magazine, January 2008, “Beyond Hidden Frontiers”, p.89]. E. Robert has become a regular at science fiction convention events on panels and participating in book signings/readings.
Besides being a produced playwright and published author, E. Robert has had articles printed in local newspapers as well as medical newsletters. He has also graced many a stage by his given name: Eston Dunn. He is the founder of the nonprofit organization artsUnited, Inc. A recent project is founding another non-profit online webcasting charity to educate while entertaining through programs that unite those that are separated by the walls of stereotyping, prejudice, and bigotry (www.watchoutweb.org).
His website is:
https://erobertdunn.com
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info@erobertdunn.com
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