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The Preacher [Wilson]
#1
ACT: Preacher’s homebound

Setting: The individuals are placed inside the log cabin, near the city of Lispool. There is table in center of the room, with candle located on it. Four chairs surround the table. There is also drawer in back of the room, with portrait of a couple in their prime.  There is also three paintings on the wall that resemble three young children.
ENTER Father

Father is at least fifty-eight years old, his feature seem be weary. These face wrinkled, and his hair is already balding. He seem to sport these dark blue eyes, and a very dull expression.
Father seats himself on a chair.

ENTER Mother
Mother’s already nearly fifty-five. Her hair is starting to turn gray, much loss of her beauty drying up thanks to brutal reality of life. Her expression flat, and uninviting. Almost an evil old hag stereotype, although she seem to demand respect with her intimidating presence.
Mother: Dear, is it the time to sit down, and relax?
Father: I’m sorry, honey. I’m just exhausted. The winter’s hardly improving, and gradually getting worse. Afraid I cannot go chop tree with harsh blizza-
Mother: Speaks no more, dear. I shouldn’t have asked such ignorant question. I should’ve looked outside the window a moment ago!
Mother walk toward the drawer, and pulls it open.
Father: It had been years, has it?
Mother: It’s definitely been years. All these years, and we’ve been occupied. By  Mercala’s goodness, I would’ve gladly repeated all that again. Just because it’s for greater things, dear.
Father: Even if the children disagreed, or didn’t consent with this?
Mother: Look, Jordan. You expect a Child to make a logical decision. They’re young, and their emotions are so run amok. That you just must Discipline them. To put them on the right Path! Why do you want me to repeat this?!
Father: The last child we had before he left. He doesn’t want this. He wanted something different, but he doesn’t want to go on Path you laid out for him.
Mother: Look, sweetheart. The World isn’t gonna just be gentle. The boy have no choice, and I need him to be strong. He need to just appreciate that we’re doing what is in his best interest!
Father: Even if the interests isn’t what he wanted? The first two children, they were able to be given a choice. What’s made you change your mind on the third child?
Mother: Jordan! I cannot help it. A mother grows, and change. She just become more considerate of her decisions. Why are you so lax?
Father: Hannah dear. I cannot help it. It’s just Father pauses It’s one of these day. Why did you change your decisions when we had our third? We gave other two freedom. Why cannot we do the same for the thir-
Mother: Look. I’ll not argue with you. It is that, and that. I simply wanted what is best for my Son. He is simply supposed to be very excellent role model. Especially since other two doesn’t contact us as much.
Father: But wh-
Mother: Enough, Jordan. I will not accept another protest.
Father frowns. He takes one look at the Painting of his third child. Then he stand up.
Father: I’ll go split firewoods for the night.
Mother nods her head in acknowledgement. She pulls an envelope from the drawer. Opening it, and begin reading. Father went through the door, and left the log cabin to gather firewood for the tonight’s furnace.
Early midnight

The furnace is already lit up, providing warmth and light. The Mother sits near the furnace on very comfortable chair.  Next to her, is another chair as well. There is a painting of the Couple, but in their younger phrases.
ENTER Father
Father: Sorry about that. I have to-
Mother: Hush, dear. I know. It’s a shame.
Father: It’s very shameful, really. I didn’t think that one would break.
Mother: Many things are not alway built to last, Jordan. Just like our time, we’re not permanent.
Father: So pessimistic, as alway dear.
Mother: A woman’s bound to go pessimistic if she had to put up with her husband’s sore thumb smacked by a hammer! Though, dear.
Father: Hm?
Mother: Do you remember that today, is the day. That He’s coming.
Father: Oh. Him? I don’t have high hope for him to actually come.
Mother: So faithless of you, Jordan! And you call me a pessimistic?!
Father: Look. There’s difference between -
Mother: He’ll be here by five minute.
Father: That’s outrageous. Why so late? Why even so late where Sun is gone, and moon is rearing right above us!?
Mother tighten her jaw for a moment. As if the Spirit of Irritations have made it appearance in the form of her expression.  With her strong determination, she held steadfast to the demeanor.
Mother: Jordan. I understands. But It’s better if nobody is to see Him coming to our Home. The Shadow will Shroud him from the undesired Sights.
Father: I  . . . I hope you didn’t regret this decision. But soon, We’ll both apologize for what we’ve pressured him to become.
Mother: Shush. It is better that he is to be acceptable of his Worship to Her Grace, and that he will brings the Family in Good Name. It is all that matters.
Mother looks up. Taking the moment to admire the the painting presented.
Father: I hope you can bears the consequences.

There is a knock.

With every knock, became a slightly more audible until it stops on the fourth.

Act: Preacher’s Homebound
END.
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