This week I share with you part a first attempt at a play about Sarah Silver (the “you” of “Animals,” “The Charity of Ruin,” and “The Whore of Harwich”). It was intended to serve as a bit of connective tissue for an evening of 10-minute plays based on my “Seven Wives of Silver” series and “Animals,” but the rest of the series preferred to remain short stories and wanted no part in being dramatized.
Here's an excerpt:
LORENA: But what’ll the fellas say, Sarah? What’ll the fellas say?
SARAH: They’ve known you since you were a guttersnipe, haven’t they?
LORENA: Yes, m’am. Picked me up in Detroit when I was no more’n eight years old.
SARAH: And you all have seen the elephant by now, haven’t you? The three of you have been through thick and thin.
LORENA: Yes, m’am.
The Prostitute gestures for the Barkeep to bring Lorena a drink.
SARAH: Look: you’re the biggest toad in the puddle, Lorena. They’re not going to think any less of you if you dine upon the commodity of that dirty puzzle over there. I’m sure they’ve each had their fill of her in days gone by. And besides, better you spend one night a sapphist than let some border ruffian from across the street ride you like a bangtail.
LORENA (blushing): I am not the biggest toad…
SARAH: You are so! Don’t sell me a dog, Lorena. Them boys’d be lost without you.
LORENA (with a laugh): “Don’t sell me a dog.” I haven’t heard that one in years. My mother used to say that, before her consumption.
Lorena looks saddened by the memory of her mother as the Barkeep brings her a drink.
BARKEEP: Compliments of your friend over there.
LORENA: Thank you.
BARKEEP: She wonders if you’ve made a decision regarding her proposition.
LORENA (blushing again): I know it’s been most an age now, but I’m still pondering.
BARKEEP: A word of advice: ponder faster, or she’ll be a buttered bun before you get your chance.
To read the whole thing, in all its rough draft glory, become my patron on Patreon.