The Thing on the Doorstep - Adaptation for the Stage by Moonsp1ke
Summary: This is a script, completed in 2011, for a 2-act full-length stage adaptation of Lovecraft's short story. Contained here is a partial inclusion of Act I. If any theater acting group is interested in producing this, you may contact me at Moonsp1kemanor@gmail.com.
Rating: No Rating
The Thing on the Doorstep - Adaptation for the Stage by Moonsp1ke
Chapter 1: Act 1Author's Notes:
THE THING ON THE DOORSTEP
INT. LIBRARY. SPOTLIGHT CENTER-STAGE
DAN UPTON stumbles into spotlight from stage left. His clothes are disheveled and blood-spattered. He is carrying a revolver.
It is true that I have sent six bullets through the head of my best friend, and yet I hope you will come to believe that I am not his murderer. At first I shall be called a madman - madder than the man I shot in his cell at the Arkham Sanitarium. Some day others will weigh each statement, correlate it with the known facts, and ask themselves how I could have believed otherwise than I did after facing the evidence of that horror - that thing on the doorstep.
Stage lights come up. EDWARD DERBY casually strolls in from stage right and stands, looking around him. Dan turns to look at him.
So I say that I have not murdered Edward Derby. Rather have I avenged him, and in so doing purged the earth of a horror whose survival might have loosed untold terrors on all mankind.
(begins backing up stage left, continuing to look at Edward)
There are black zones of shadow close to our daily paths, and now and then some evil soul breaks a passage through. When that happens, the man who knows must strike before reckoning the consequences.
(exits stage left)
Edward’s father enters and looks around, clearly pleased. Edward’s mother enters last, slowly, hugging herself and looking uncertain.
A good choice, Miskatonic University. See, you don’t have to go to Harvard to get a degree in, um...
English and French literature. And so close to home you can walk - which will be good for you. Isn’t that right, dear?
Yes, certainly. It will be good to have you staying near by.
Well, they do have an excellent library here. This should be a great help to my poetry.
Yes, and didn’t your friend Dan say he would even illustrate your poetry book for you?
Oh, he’s given that idea up. He really can’t draw.
But isn’t he going to school for architecture?
Well, he can draw buildings, just not draw...the things I write about.
Edward finds a book on a shelf and seems very happy about his discovery, but hides it from his parents. He places it carefully on top of the shelf.
And speaking of Daniel - where is he? I thought he was going to stop by and say goodbye before he left.
DAN UPTON rushes in from stage right.
I’m here! All packed. My train leaves in twenty minutes. So Ed, what do you say?
(looks around, then smiles at Dan)
I’ll have this place licked in three years!
That’s the spirit! I wish I could feel the same about Harvard.
Dan, tell me; how is your father these days?
Not so well, I’m afraid. This New England weather takes such a toll on his respiratory system. We may have to move him south before long.
(He looks suddenly at his watch)
I can’t stay. Just came for a quick goodbye.
Let us drive you to the station.
Oh, yes, We’ll be happy to. Come on, Edward.
You go ahead. I want to stay and prowl about a bit.
(He walks over to Dan. The two grasp each other’s arms)
Best of luck, old chum.
Same to you. Be sure to mail me some of your poetry.
Dan and Mr. and Mrs. Derby exit. Edward retrieves the book. He continues scouring the bookshelves, rounds a corner and slams into ASENATH WAITE, a young, dark-haired woman.
Damnation and hell!
Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see...forgive me.
(Calms and looks intently at him)
No, pardon me. You must be new here.
Yes, starting classes this fall.
(Awkward silence follows. She slowly extends a hand)
My name is Asenath Waite.
Um, Edward. Edward Derby. A pleasure to meet you. You don’t come from around here, from Arkham?
Innsmouth. My family has lived there for generations. It’s just a fishing village. What book do you have there?
This? The Book of Eibon.
You’ve read it?
Indeed. You could say I know it forwards and backwards.
(She slides the book from his hands and opens it to a page)
‘And on hands and knees I toiled along the slick and fetid corridor that wound through the Vale of Pnath, past the mountains of bones, all the while aware of vengeful eyes that longed only to consume me. Between the Peaks of Thok the temple lay, its chiseled horns upraised to receive its sacrifice - the spot into which all the ghouls of the waking world cast the refuse of their feastings’.
(She returns the book)
So, what interest do you have in things of this nature?
Oh, I’ve always been curious about arcane lore, mythology - you know, the old gods. Probably comes from being locked up inside for most of my childhood. Had to find some means of escape. So it became books.
Locked up? How sad.
Oh, I don’t mean literally. It just didn’t help that I was an only child, and certainly not the most healthy or robust one, at that.
Didn’t let you out of their sight, huh?
Not a chance. And when they did let me outside to play, I had to have my nurse with me. But my writing - that’s been my other back door - my gateway to some freedom.
Really? What do you write?
Poetry, mostly. I’m building my compilation, hope to have it printed some day. It’s called ‘The Shadow of Azathoth and Other Horrors’. Sounds disturbing, I know.
Oh, not really. I think I can understand it little, looking at where you grew up. I thought my town was chilling, but Arkham - sagging gothic roofs, crumbling edifices, hanging over the banks of the cold, dark Miskatonic River. And the legends I’ve heard - intriguing, I could say, to put it nicely.
Innsmouth isn’t without its share of tales, either.
Tall tales. You know, if you really want to study books like this, (she digs through her purse and produces a pencil and piece of paper) books that don’t shy away from addressing the peculiar and arcane, we’re having a gathering of "intelligentsia" in one of the student rooms next week. (she writes something down) Here is the room number. I think we’ll be talking about the nature of consciousness and about its independence of the physical frame. I do hope you can come. (she gives him a strangely intense gaze)
(Looking from the note to her)
Oh, certainly. I...I look forward to it.
And you should. I think your education here will be...most illuminating.
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