The seventh season of my cemetery play A Spot On the Hill has come to an end. It was an amazing experience and the weather was perfect. I could not have asked for a better cast, and the audiences were so appreciative. Here are a few shots from the second weekend.
I also have another play, a ten minute play, set in a cemetery that is part of A Mourning Hollow. You can purchase the theatrical anthology through Amazon.
Prompts, The Clocks Change & A Beautiful Scarf.
“Gregor worked quickly in the dark. Did Dr. Hozier have to leave the power off? Of course he did, the jerk. It was kind of fun, though, it was like going back to his roots, working by the light of the Bunsen burner. It reminded him of when he first started, before Richard was his adversary, before any of this. It almost made him feel bad to hack Richard’s body apart, but it had to be done, and his zombiefied state actually made it less messy.
He was dissolving a limb when the phone rang again. Gregor startled, but managed not to drop acid on himself. With a huff, he returned to the kitchen and answered the phone.
“Tick tock. Tick tock,” the familiar voice reminded him.
“I get it,” Gregor replied and hung up.
He returned to the task at hand and worked until his fingers were numb, but the minutes continued to pass by. “I don’t think you’re going to make it,” Richard’s head observed. Gregor had set it on a nearby counter.
Gregor had to stop. His hand was cramping. He, too, was fearful of the time. He stood to stretch his back, and his eyes caught site of the calendar illuminated in the candlelight. His eyes grew wide with realization. “No, we’re going to make it. And do you know why?”
“Blind optimism?” the head remarked.
“No, because time changes tonight!” Gregor pointed at the calendar. “We get an extra hour.” He looked down at the head, and for a moment he felt pity for Richard. He felt pity for all of them. No, it couldn’t end this way.
“Dr. Hozier doesn’t get to win,” Gregor decided. He recalled the last phone call they’d shared. He’d heard background noise. Lots of voices and a church bell? His eyes grew wide again. “I know where he is, Dr. Hozier. He left, after he killed the others, and he went to the Red Masque Ball. I doubt he even saw you. He doesn’t know you’re, well, this.”
Richard’s eyes grew wide, too. “He came here on a whim, thinking you’d realize my house was closer.”
“I say, we go to him and give him the shock of his life. Show him exactly the hell he’s wrought,” Gregor proclaimed.
The dismembered pieces of Richard’s body were left in the tub. Gregor found a beautiful scarf in a drawer and made it into a sling. He’d wanted to put Richard’s head in a backpack, but Richard had protested. He was claustrophobic.
“My mother’s scarf,” the head lamented as Gregor tucked it inside the makeshift sling. “She’d be glad it brought me comfort one last time.”
“Don’t say things like that,” Gregor remarked, very uneasy. “It reminds me you were human once.”
“If it makes you feel any better, my mother was a saint, so I doubt I’ll be seeing her again when I get to my final resting place.”
“Well, my mom was hell on wheels, so we’ll probably have eternity together,” Gregor sighed.”
#Halloween #writingchallenge #spooky #weirdashell
Anne Gfellers Mason Author 
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