When the Record Stops Playing and the Only Color you Feel is White

**All bolded phrases should be acted out in basic movements by actors. Throughout the rest of the play, actors must be moving according to their interpretation of what the narrator is saying. 

Girl takes center mid stage, lying in a fetal position. She appears to be wearing some 

form of a mask, making it difficult to identify her features. 

Narrator: (Takes position center upstage.): White. (Narrator performs gesture that 

mimics opening curtains. White light casts upon Narrator.) It’s a blank slate. The streaks 

of tears finally stop, settling themselves within the banks of her cheekbones (Girl sits in 

fetal position). Her body grows numb, as she tries shrinking away from the exterior 

threats hurting her, scaring her, killing her. Yet, she finds herself fighting a more 

powerful, submerged demon – herself. (Girl traces her finger along the floor) Lying on 

her cold bathroom floor, she gently traces the white tiles with her finger, scraping 

the surface with her nail. She listens to the same broken record playing, repeating the 

incessant, constant phrase. (Narrator rocks her head side to side as Girl softly bangs her 

head against the floor; both three times and at the same time) “You’re nothing. You’re 

nothing. You’re nothing....” (Stands still again) It wraps around her mind, entangled in 

her soul. She can’t be rid of it, for it is impossible to remove poisonous veins that pulsate 

at her core. (Narrator shrugs shoulders, gesturing to audience). So, what more is there to 

do? I suggest we leave her here, (Girl rocks back and forth again) leave her rocking 

back and forth to the rhythm of heartbreak. It’s easy to forget those who mean 

nothing to us, because really, why does she matter? 

(Makes sudden movement, holding up hand toward the girl, looking at her) But wait! 

Look (Girl sits up, looking around). She’s sitting up now, as if a jolt of electricity rushed 

through her blood. (Advances toward girl) What is it? Do you see something? Is it 

another part of your soul breaking off, drifting into the plunging abyss that threatens to 

swallow you alive? (Narrator takes a beat, then slowly turns away from the girl, facing 

the audience) No. It was simply that she hears her name – a reminder that she is still 

living. (Narrator laughs cynically as girl hangs her head) How. Pathetic. 

(Narrator returns to original spot.) Lemon yellow. (Yellow light cast upon Narrator. 

Man enters stage left) Her mind still whirls at the thought of you (pointing to man, 

lingering her gaze and finger). She can’t comprehend how it happened, the details that 

culminated into your existence. But she remembers the feelings. She remembers her 

nervous breathlessness, (Narrator and girl both twist hands) twisting her fingers as she 

steals glances of you through the curtain of her hair. She remembers having the desire 

to talk bubbling in her stomach. Words tumbled on her tongue, straining to be released, 

but she didn’t want to break the peace you brought. She remembers how your small 

smile, that faint glimmer of humanity, made her to feel again, or at least gave her the 

warmth of a time less painful. (Man embraces girl, both begin to dance. Narrator mimics 

side to side motion of the Girl) She is now: giggling when there was no reason to 

giggle, adoring when there was no reason to adore, living when there was no reason 

to live -- except the fact that you’re in her life now, darling. 

It's colder now but the lemon light still shines through the bare, naked trees, illuminating 

the ground as you both laugh, (Girl and Man hold each other’s hands) groping for each 

other’s hand through the blinding darkness. (Narrator looks towards man) You’ve 

recovered her soul a bit. You’ve called her name and she seems to remember, only 

slightly, that she is still alive, though barely breathing. You've stopped her trembling, 

her gasping, and replaced it with -- peace. And for that, she’s eternally grateful. But 

take care, darling, because she only wants your warmth. 

Crimson. (Red light cast upon Narrator) A barely controllable desire. (Man and Girl 

make sexual embraces. Narrator makes sensual movements by herself, mimicking facial 

expressions of the girl) Every single touch, kiss, embrace is enough for her eyes to roll to 

the back of her head, for her back to curve with each shuddering gasp, for her to cry, 

not because it hurts, but because she has finally begun to forget her pain. The closeness is 

not close enough. The satisfaction is not satisfying enough. Each exulting breath is not 

rapid enough. When this passion calms, (Man gingerly and softly strokes girl as they lay 

down side by side) you caress her tumbling hair, inhale her ephemeral smell, and 

whisper words of love, of hunger in her cheeks. You tell her how -- 

Man: (Man continues to stroke Girl, touching her face) Your tender lips mimic gentle 

poetry, of endless romance that paints even my dismembered hopes with a faint shade of 

love. 

Narrator: How (Narrator smiles with pleasure) -- 

Man: (Embraces her temporarily with a tender expression) I wouldn’t mind if your 

embraces continue endlessly until we fell off the edge of the world. So long as we could 

clutch onto each other as we plummet to our death, our fate, together. 

Narrator: (Girl suddenly stands up, walks away from man slowly. Narrator drops arms 

and stands still.) Grey. (Grey light cast upon Narrator) Dull. Boring. But she doesn’t 

want to admit it. You don’t touch her anymore. Afraid to ask why, she ceases to talk 

completely. She can no longer cry in the comforts of the strange man you have become. 

She’s unable to smell your skin, to eat at your masculinity, absorb the passion you once 

so willingly gave her. (Girl slowly sits on the ground, tracing the floor as she did in the 

“white” scene) She does not want to hear herself think, to hear her own thoughts as they 

whisper exciting words, faint memories of the joy that once existed. 

(Girl pretends to swig a bottle of something) She finds a temporary sanctuary to drown 

in, but you won’t let her keep it. (Man snatches bottle out of her hand) You snatch it out 

of her hand, labeling it as self-harm while she calls it -- 

Girl & Narrator (simultaneously): (Both Girl and Narrator suddenly face audience, 

Narrator still standing while Girl kneeling and recite in an almost robotic tone) Quiet. 

Quiet in this too loud world, quiet in this too vibrant life, quiet in our mediocre, mundane, 

repetitive existence. 

Narrator: (Both Narrator and Girl break off from stern stance) But what if she wants to 

smile? She’s allowed to find peace in something you didn’t create. (Girl begins to roll on 

the floor) Perhaps she needs to feel the body of a man who desires her, desires her so 

much that as he shudders into every molecule of her being. Someone who caresses her -- 

strokes her -- pants in her cheek, whisper words that resemble too closely what you 

used to say. She misses those days. She lies there, waiting for it to end, but also to never 

end. (Girl ends violent movements, lies still, gazing up at ceiling) She doesn’t want to 

gaze up emptily, blankly at the ceiling, but she also doesn’t want to go home. Alone. 

Alone. Alone. 

Girl: (Girl sits up, pleading toward man): Please. Come with me. 

Narrator: Midnight Blue. (Blue light cast upon Narrator. Girl switches back in forth with 

writhing on the floor violently and sitting up and mimicking screaming face) The 

screeching noise hits her temples – her hands are cold to touch – (Girl and Narrator 

tear nails against face, Girl ripping off literal mask) her nails tear at her mask, 

trembling – her lip bleeds, dripping her soul – her eyes can only see darkness, 

darkness, darkness -- until it fades into a – into – white -- nothingness – white -- 

(Girl runs toward the Narrator, grabbing hold of the Narrator) Let go of her! Let go of 

her! LET GO OF HER before you – before you - (Narrator stops talking. Light no longer 

shines on her, but on Girl. Blood escapes Narrator’s mouth and she crumbles to the 

ground. Girl stands behind her, panting).

~

Hanako Montgomery is a senior at Binghamton University, currently majoring in Japanese Studies and Asian and Asian American Studies. She has always found poetry and screenwriting to be therapeutic forms of expression. In her free time, she performs with her school’s latin dance team and finds delicious recipes to try on Pinterest. Her favorite food is currently seafood pancake.