Veil Response

Veil response by Zachary Pointon

The Veil response by Zachary Pointon- Full Text

  The ‘game room’ in Bedlam Psychiatric hospital. Late 1800’s.

The sound of 30 plus insane inmates howl through the corridors.  

The autumnal evening light pours in through barred windows, casting long parallel shadows across the floor. Dr. S.S Wolfman stands in front of one, his shadow merging with that of the bars. He pours an alcoholic beverage from a glass bottle into an ornate tumbler. It is dingy in the room, but there is enough light to see torn wallpaper and a soiled floor. What looks like blood or some other mystery liquid lurks splattered across the skirting boards and in a puddle at the front of the stage.

   There are unlit candles across the room and various ‘medical’ bits and bobs scattered around. Stage right hosts a doctors changing curtain on rails, a rusty metal table with various unpleasant looking fluids on it and a collection of hair discarded on the floor.

   Stage left boasts only a small pile of books on a table.

Eric Caster is brought in by Nurse Beatrice, bound to a wheelchair - his eyes and head down turned in a madman’s salute to the floor. He is placed centre stage.

   NURSE BEATRICE:   Saand’s like a reel uproar t’nite, Doctor.

   A voice, filled with loathing and spite screams offstage. The voices quiet down.

   INMATE:   Me ‘ed is Gawd, Wolfman?

   There is a loud smash and the rattling of bars.

         Gawd is dead, German!

   Laughter and obscenities pick up again.

   NURSE BEATRICE:   Deed yer get that mess with the shit in the Cellar sorted?

   Wolfman pauses for a moment. Another, louder voice wails – closer this time.

 INMATE:   Satan! Satan!

   The chant picks up and for a few moments the word is repeated over and over by every inmate in the hospital. Again, the noise trickles down into a few screams and yells. Wolfman turns around on his heel, a slow and meditated action. Thoughtfully, and with his hands still behind his back, he advances towards Eric.

   WOLFMAN: …indeed I did. Not personally, but through the maid who thought nothing of it. I envy the woman, for being either a brilliant liar or not fazed by the sight of so much faeces.

   He sighs and finishes the drink. He strikes a match and lights a candle. Turned away from the audience he indicates in Eric’s direction

   - so who is this, tied like a boar and like a hundred others this week?

   NURSE BEATRICE:   Ees is Eric Caster, Sir – ‘nother Junk-‘ed for the pile. Seems lyke a quiet one, no criminal or killer – not ‘least till he comes off th’ opium claad. Boought een not so long ago by ‘is family.

   Wolfman looks across to Eric.

   WOLFMAN:   These men are counting their blessings that the Chinese stopped buying their affliction –

   An insane voice breaks through the ‘sanity’.

   INMATE:   POACHER! POACHER ON THE RYE!

   Wolfman turns around and stares at the door towards the Inmates.

   WOLFMAN:   I stand to say that no new guard is worth any silver for the first month of his stay. Listen!

 To this day I regret the absence of Guard Carlo in his position of power – a man who could quiet those who have their minds stuck in the darkest fathoms. 

   As if listening for an answer to this question the hospital falls quiet, only the vague sound of a saw and a woman’s scream from a floor above can be heard.

   NURSE BEATRICE:   Well eets a ard job, bein on yer own with the animals. Specilly if yer new.

   Arms open as if defending his sins from God himself, Wolfman advances towards Eric. Nurse Beatrice walks away and fetches both of them a drink.

   WOLFMAN:   And this is something I do not know? Carlo’s misconception was that of his immunity to the power of lunacy; now look, the man resides with those who he used to beat and hate upon, a fragile minded and feeble bodied unfortunate and Abraham-man to be. What stops you from his fate, when we too are standing in the midst of Hell? One guard, Simon – one day, fine; on the turning of the moon he lies down as does a lap dog but not get back up – does not utter a word. One day in the presence of so much insanity – and we are here indefinably.

   As she passes the drink to Wolfman, Eric’s eyes flip up and produce a chilling stare out towards the audience – a strange transcendence pastes itself down his face. The Doctor looks away, listening but mesmerized in the direction of the other inmates.  

   ERIC:   Birds - made - of iron… will rip through the sky…

   WOLFMAN:  And just in time, see the proof – under half an hour and the man is insane.

   The two laugh and drink. There is a calm moment, without any motion or noise where they look at each other. Eric breaks the tranquillity.

ERIC:  …and they will drop fire that makes the people scream and tears the earth apart…

   An inmate howls, the aforementioned guard can be heard screaming abuse in the cells. All goes quiet.

…the thunder - is second to only to the screaming…

His eyes glaze over again, and his head drops back down. Wolfman coughs and brings a handkerchief to his mouth. He lays his hands on Eric’s head and pulls it back, he opens and eyelid and checks for pupil dilation.

   WOLFMAN:   On what grounds do private hospitals refuse men like this? Do they fear the idea of their own fine treatment for these addicts?

   Still glazed over and disassociated from events, Eric mumbles slowly, word by word. He is indifferent to Wolfman’s close proximity.

   ERIC:   …a pink cat sprints, running away from the destruction – but the flames engulf all.

 Wolfman lets Eric’s head drop back down.

   WOLFMAN:   Even so, what beauty is painted in opium dreams.

   NURSE BEATRICE:   Eets an escape, isntit? Visions only th’ cherry on the heaven. 

   Wolfman walks away and strokes his hair. He returns to the window and continues a stare outwards. Nurse Beatrice approaches and kneels down beside Eric. She looks at him with a clinical affection. She whispers in his ear.

   Eric is grabbed by a sudden life within him and his eyes dart over to Beatrice. He whispers in her ear, a far longer sentence than the Nurses offer. She looks outwards, a reserved panic and sudden realisation pasted into one. She stands up, looking unfocusedly outward. A meek squeal of concern escapes from her lips, enough to alert Wolfman of proceedings. She puts her hand to her mouth and walks away, through the door of her entrance. Eric’s head falls to the side again and he now looks more bored than detached. The exit of Beatrice alarms Wolfman and he strides over to Eric, pulling his hair back with sudden and strong force. Eric does not feel this or does not show it.  

   WOLFMAN:   What did you say?

   He throws Eric’s head forward and crouches exactly where Nurse Beatrice did. He places his drink by his foot. Again, as if the crouch was just him calmly gaining his platform he grabs Eric by the neck and growls his words into the ear.

   WOLFMAN:   My concern is for you and what you would do to others, Mr. Caster. Refrain from saying anything to anyone but me - even if you think it obligatory or in good taste, for your judgement of good conversation is evidently misguided.

   Wolfman releases his grasp and lets the head drop back down. He stands up and looks at Eric, spits on his face. Eric turns his head to stare at the Doctor, a look which makes Wolfman step back. 

   ERIC:   But you know nothing, Old Wolfman – Old friend of the governors, of the board – who tells them of sanitary conditions and of health and miracles to come – a liar, a cheat –

   Wolfman strides back over and positions himself dangerously close to Eric. Their noses almost meet, and the doctor is spitting with rage.

   WOLFMAN:   Did you plunder the cold hard facts from files and the sources within these walls – or the papers, the haven of lies and deceit all lead to bring this fine place down? Pray tell, my shackled and bound -

   He spits with pure vicarious hatred.

   - patient.

   ERIC:   I see it in your eyes, old Wolfman.

   WOLFMAN:   My eyes?

   ERIC:   You dream of nothing because you do not dream.

   His eyes fall back to the transcendent and detached look. 

   …there will be so many more like you, old friend. So many more… in years to come - in cages for humans, in the place where skeletons walk among the well dressed and holy.

   WOLFMAN:   A man with so much to say, Mr. Caster – so what sounds crafted out of insanity made my dear Beatrice leave?

   ERIC:   Nothing but the truth.

   Wolfman slaps Eric.

   WOLFMAN:   A truth or the perceived truth?

   ERIC:   Truth, Wolfman – you tell me a truth - pray tell, old Wolfman – where did you bury the corpse of Mary Ann Nichols?

   An inmate screams the first sound from the cells in a while. Wolfman stands motionless, his eyes flickering and trying to make sense of the statement.

   INMATE:   THE PROPHET SHALL TELL US –

   There is a series of loud smashes. The guard yells.

   GUARD:   That’s what yer get! Okay? Now shutup, the lot of yous! 

   WOLFMAN:   A truth you should not know.

   He turns on his heel again and walks towards the door.

   ERIC:   And how did you kill her, old Hunter? With knives and saws above where we sit right now –

   He gestures up with his head. A psychotic intensity is behind his eyes.

-    and she screamed a single word, didn’t she – old Wolfman, old friend – it echoes through these corridors and shall echo for years to come – and through eternity it will echo less than the many times as she repeated it at your hand – the word

   Together they both say ‘No’.

    What of the body, Old Wolfman?

   In his panic Wolfman picks up a medical knife. He prowls towards where Eric is sat.

   WOLFMAN:   Dumped.

   ERIC:   In Bucks Row, Whitechapel.

   WOLFMAN:   These are no visions of the poppy, Mr. Caster. I apologise for deeming you a liar, or delusional at that.   

   ERIC:   The poppy can tell many truths, you who shall be called the name of Ripper.

   WOLFMAN:   Then let it be, Mr. Caster –

   The Doctor stabs Eric from behind. Eric screams at the top of his lungs – his head arched upwards, his body spastic and thrashing. The other inmates hear the howl and begin sounding off themselves – a cacophony of madness and spite.

   Eric screams louder and louder and the Inmates join in, different words and psychotic dreams merging into one fell noise. The orchestra of madness reaches its peak and then all is suddenly dark.

 Morning light pours in through the windows. It is cold outside and some birds can be heard singing. The wheelchair that Eric was in last night still remains in the middle of the stage. Wolfman walks in a smoking jacket. He has quite obviously just woken up and has not slept much at all. There are patches of congealed blood on his hands. He walks over to the window and looks outwards. He pours himself some whiskey. He rubs his face and breathes a sigh of exasperation and hangs his head. Nurse Beatrice enters with some breakfast for the Doctor and herself. There is a constant banging from the Inmates and a cackling. 

   NURSE BEATRICE:   If yer don’t mind me sayin so Doctor – you shouldn’t work today. ‘Eard you up last night screamin at the unfortunates. Bangin’ and ravin’ like one of ‘em and all. Why’dyou go out?

   WOLFMAN:   The noise they made in the night was unbearable. That is all. A stroll, if you will.

   He takes a crumpet off the tray and eats it.

   INMATE:   THE DEVIL! THE DEVIL SHALL ASK YOU!

   WOLFMAN:   Please leave, Nurse.

   She places the tray down on the windowsill. Facing out to the audience she too pours herself a whiskey.

   NURSE BEATRICE:   You were screamin in yer sleep, too. Somethin ‘bout steel fallin from the sky ‘nd loud drones. Tellin someone to start runnin’. Was late, Doctor. Very late.  

   He takes away her glass of whiskey and turns around. He walks out towards the audience and sits in Eric’s wheelchair. He puts his head in his hand and massages his forehead with his thumb.

   WOLFMAN:   Did my address for you to leave go unheard?

   INMATE:   LET ME SLEEP!

   NURSE BEATRICE:   What did ‘e say to you? What did ‘e whisper?

   WOLFMAN:   Nothing but the truth.    

   She takes the hint and leaves. Wolfman sits and ponders some more, looking outwardly, slumped in the wheelchair. A small bird, fragile and free flies across the stage. Wolfman begins to write a letter.