The Lake

This was originally written as a monologue for a play, so it's within the context of a conversation, but here's a story that I'm quite fond of. Written in December of 09.

Often, when I'm doing exploratory writing, the characters have names like Guy and Girl, or numbers, letters or other generic label.

GUY

Don’t speak until I’ve said what I want to say. It’s been

several months since you’ve seen me - which is entirely your

doing, I’ve done what you’ve told me you wanted, and for

that, I am sorry. You’ve told me to stay away, which I have,

and I never should have listened to you. What a fool I’ve

been, to take you at your word.

(beat)

I was like the man who built a lake at the foot of his love.

He dug at her feet and moved back and back as the rains fell

from the sky. And as he finished, he looked up to find that

the lake was between them, and that he had set her apart from

himself. She waited for him to cross the river, but

exhausted from digging the lake, he could neither swim nor

build and navigate a boat. Soon, she turned to go, walking

the solid ground away from him. He ran after her and drowned

in the lake he had made to remember his love.