The December People’s Choice Award goes to…
The people have spoken… The December People’s Choice Award goes to Ruth Geye for her short play, Chelm, KS, presented as a staged reading Simulcast & On-Demand via Vimeo Live on December 27th. Congratulations, Ruth!
Courtesy of Ruth, we’re pleased to share the first few pages from the award-winning script. Enjoy!
CHELM, KS
by Ruth Geye
CHARACTERS
MORDI (M, 7-9 y/o) a curious little boy
ROSE (F, 20s/30s) his mother
THE DREYDL (X, ageless) an animate lump of clay
note: the character does not have an age or gender, but does have a deep, resonant voice.
SETTING
TIME: long after dark on the night before the first night of Hanukkah, 5682
[Late Saturday night, December 24th, 1921]
PLACE: a modest house in the strange little town of Chelm, Kansas
I have a little dreidel
I made it out of clay
And when it’s dry and ready
Oh dreidel I shall play…
– traditional, attributed to
Samuel S. Grossman
Rose sits on the edge of the bed in a stiff, yoked nightgown. Her son, Mordi, rests
his head in her lap.
ROSE
…But the rabbi was clever. Just like you.
He grabbed a hold of the golem’s head. And on his forehead,
where the word “emet” was written, he smeared the aleph,
leaving just “met.” Death.
And the golem collapsed. Right where it stood.
Legend tells us, the body of Rov Loew’s golem lies there in that attic,
To
this
day.
MORDI
And then what?
ROSE
And then what what
The golem is still asleep in the attic
MORDI
Another story, mame, please?
ROSE
It’s already nearly ten.
Your father wouldn’t like you staying up so late.
MORDI
Tate isn’t here.
ROSE
You should get your rest.
Tomorrow night is Khanike.
Rose kisses the top of Mordi’s head and tucks him in. A big, unpainted clay dreidel
across the room catches her eye.
ROSE
You didn’t finish your dreydl yet?
Mordi shakes his head.
MORDI
The clay is still wet. I can’t paint it.
ROSE
Let’s open a window. The cold air will dry it out.
(Rose sets the tray with the unfinished clay dreidel on the window sill.)
There.
Rose crosses back and stands with a hand on the knob of the kerosene lamp.
ROSE
A gite nakht, Mordi.
MORDI
‘gite nakht, mame
She turns the knob. Blackout. The door closes behind her.
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Join us for the next Monday Night PlayGround on January 17th! For more info, click here!