Danse Macabre Monologue

Danse Macabre Script

The boy of about 14 is tall and very skinny with brown eyes and brown hair. His living quarters were extremely dirty and crowded. He’s standing up to look through the window of his upper story apartment, with a blank, shell-shocked expression on his face. His gaze was focused onto a cart across the street. The cart was filled with dozens of rotting lifeless bodies, flies swarming around it. He zooms in on one dead body in particular, his mother.

My mother is on that cart, her last words to me were, “Angelo,” she never finished her sentence, I’ve seen my brothers, my sister, and my dad on a cart, being hauled away. (You see flashbacks of a family sitting at a dinner table, and the family members slowly drop dead, except for himself.) I’ve seen it happen a million times, but I’ve never gotten used to it. We heard a few years ago that the plague had started by some Genoese merchants in Sicily, but Sicily was too far away for us to care. Just a few weeks after it came to Florence, people dropped dead by the family. Mom was treated by a strange old doctor who wore a bird mask. She was leashed and treated by smells. She kept a few feet from me, but nothing really worked.

He has empty cheeks and an extremely small frame, desperate for food. With a pocket full of flowers (used to prevent transmission). He goes outside to look for food. The streets are empty of people. He finds an apple on the ground. The frame pans out and on the walls of the houses are the words, “Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we