"Bodies Pointing Northeast" by Mark S.P. Turvin Copyright 1993-Mark S.P. Turvin and Goldfish Publishers Characters: Corpse 1-An old man, a farmer, who died of cancer in 1826. Corpse 2-A young woman, the farmer's wife, who died in childbirth in 1788. Corpse 3-A young man, a Harvard seminary student, who died by accidentally drowning in the Charles River in 1815. Corpse 4-A middle-aged woman, a prostitute, who was accidentally shot to death in 1837. Gravedigger-An older Irishman, late forties. Constable-An Irishman in his thirties. Deacon Fairleigh-Middle aged, a proper man. John Weller-A 22 year-old graduate student in Geology and Physics studying at M.I.T. Setting: King's Church and graveyard in downtown Boston, Massachusetts. Time: 1837 & 1899. PROLOGUE The Curtain Rises...to the sound of a shovel in rocky dirt, and the straining of a man laboring to dig a grave. When the lights come up, there is a faint blue of an evening sky, with the first few feet and an entrance to a church visible USL. A tree branch with autumnal-colored leaves overhangs the S.R. side. Onstage, we see Corpse 1, 2 and 3 sitting on headstones, watching the Gravedigger at work, while Corpse 4 lies beside him. Corpse 1 wears a simple blue suit of the early 1800's. Corpse 2 wears a simple but beautiful dress in the style of the middle to late 1700's. Corpse 3 wears a Deacon's frock coat, and Corpse 4 wears a faded dress, formerly pretty, but long past its prime. The Gravedigger stops, looks around, and takes hold of Corpse 4. He rolls her onto the area he was digging, and mimes tossing dirt onto her. She sits up with a start. Corpse 4 Hey, what t'hell? What're you doin'? Stop that! Corpse 3 (With a heavy "Olde", scholarly New England accent) You probably will want to join us up here. 'tis a better view than down there. Corpse 4 squirms her way up onto the small headstone above her grave, and sits, looking as the Gravedigger works. Corpse 2 (With a thick lower class accent) As I was saying 'fore we were interrupted, t'was that crackling sound made me sure I was beyond. Corpse 1 (With a heavy down home New England accent) How many times do I hafta tell you, you couldn'ta been there t'all, even fer a momentary. Corpse 3 I can't tell you enough that we wouldn't be abandoned by... Corpse 4 What t'hell? Wherem' I? Corpse 2 Where d'ja think? Bone orchard. The Gravedigger pulls out a compass and checks the direction. Corpse 4 Couldn't be. I was just bein' carried to the house to have the grapeshot taken out by Joe. The Gravedigger is done, and he spits on the grave he has just dug, nods, and exits SR. Corpse 4 (cont.) 'ey, needn't be doin' that, now! Corpse 2 Cut yer yappin', hussie. We was in the middle-a talk here. Corpse 4 (Starts moving around wildly, within the confines of her grave) I gotta hold a' some bad booze or somethin'. This is crazy. Corpse 3 If you'll just sit back a few minutes, rest, you'll see 'tis the truth we tell. Corpse 4 I was just up and about not ten minutes ago. Corpse 1 Might very well've been a day're two. Corpse 2 But I'm tellin' ya, it was that buzzin' let me know there was a beyond. I can't even imagine what's got me here now. Corpse 1 It's where we're pointin', I'm tellin' ya. We weren't buried natural, and we're not pointin' north. S'why we're still here. Corpse 4 (Suddenly collapses, then pulls herself back up onto the headstone) I feel cold. Yer all tellin' truth. I'm a corpse, surely. Corpse 3 We all are, and we're just waiting t'see the salvation of God. Corpse 4 No offense, preacher, but I'm not spectin' to get anywhere near the sights a' Him. A sinner I was, from my earliest moments on. Corpse 2 Needn't advise us 'bout that, 'tis obvious t'all. Corpse 1 Hush up, wife. Corpse 2 And don'tcha be callin' me yer wife. Left me rottin' nigh on forty years afore you showed here. We spent a year's life together. T'wasn't much more'n a babe'n I passed on. Corpse 4 So why'm I not in blazes yet? Corpse 3 The Lord's will... Corpse 1 (Interrupting) 'cause we're not a pointin' north, as a right corpse should. Corpse 3 (Angered) Sir, I do wish you would stop that Pagan nonsense you keep on about. You were a Christian, Godfearing man, sure. You shouldn't be talking such blasphemous words. Corpse 4 (Interested in the thought, ignoring Corpse 3) What'all you mean 'bout pointin' north? Never heard talk 'bout that. Corpse 1 Just common knowledge that when a person is buried, and they're a- buried in the sight-a God, that they're heads should be a-pointin' north. Corpse 3 (To Corpse 4) You can take it from a man of knowledge, this is nothing but a common myth that has been spread from Britian and the times before the true word of God had come to that land. A common fallacy and a wicked one at that. Corpse 1 Then why are all the graveyards dug near your church always a followin' that myth? Corpse 3 (Silent for a few seconds, pondering) Tradition? (Corpse 1 laughs) There are a great many things that the church does that are not prescribed by the Bible, but by what has been done in the past. Corpse 4 (To Corpse 3) Then you tell me, since you've got the Almighty on yer side; how come you and the others are still here a-moulderin', and not up in yer blessed kingdom-come? Corpse 3 (Crosses his arms across his chest defensively) 'tis not ours to question the Lord's actions and wisdom... Corpse 4 (Interrupting) Just like every other preacher I ever asked a question of. (Referring to Corpse 1) His ideas sound better'n yours. Corpse 3 I couldn't expect you to understand, for the Lord's actions are mysterious and wonderous and unknown to us... Corpse 1 (Interrupting, to Corpse 4) If'n you don't mind me askin', what year is it above us? Corpse 4 S'far as I remember now, I was up 'n walking and it was 1837. Corpse 1 So, it's been more'n fifty years since my lovely wife here left us during childbirth, and more'n twenty since the preacher here drowned in the Charles, and more'n ten since I got the cancer. Preacher, you still think God's a-comin' for our pitiful souls? Corpse 3 God will bring us into Judgement Day. I'm sure of it. We needn't be pointing north, or wearing bells, or any other foolishness, for God is aware of all of his creatures, from the greatest to the smallest. (There is silence) Corpse 4 S'my luck to the last. I'm stuck here and I ain't even been buried proper. And I'm next to a Godpreacher and all. Never a decent from the start, and now I've gotta look forward to eternity with you a- yappin'. Corpse 2 We didn't ask fer yer type to be a-buried here. Can't believe they'd go and bury yer type in hallowed ground. Corpse 3 My girl, if you'll remember that God takes in the prostitutes and thieves as well as... Corpse 4 (Interrupting) Listen, sister, when you work as I did, you made a lot of friends, and those connections'll sometimes pay off. 'course, I'd rather a- been tossed in'a ditch 'en listen 'a yer stuck up airs. Corpse 3 Ladies, please. God is just, and He will lead us into salvation and the promised land. We are not forgotten, I promise you. Corpse 1 (More to himself) I'm just a-hopin' that one of 'em gravediggers figgers out their mistake and buries us proper and a pointin' north, a'fore we all spend eternity a-complainin'. Blackout SCENE 1 The Curtain Rises...to the sight of the four corpses atop their headstones. The church is now surrounded by other buildings. This is Boston in 1899, and the city has grown quite a bit since the Prologue. It is early night, and they watch as the grandson of the Gravedigger from the prior scene, moves back and forth in front of them, looking strangely at his compass. He keeps looking up at the sky, then using his lantern to check the compass once more. He moves around constantly, some times shaking the compass, and others, standing facing different ways to figure the predicament out. At a lecturn up S.R., seperate from the scene, John Weller addresses the audience. Corpse 4 'at's the one 'at buried me. Corpse 3 Couldn't be. Corpse 4 Certainly is. 'e's the one 'at spat on my grave. Corpse 2 Been t' long t' be him. Must be his son. Corpse 1 Or his grandson. Weller (His voice thick with a polished Boston accent) We are thinking men. But there are dark regions that still need illumination. The Greeks created their gods to explain things that their limited abilties couldn't figure the causes of, such as thunder, or flooding, or even the movement of the heavens. As explanations arose for many things, so, too, rose monotheism. While nature's explanations were numerous, deep questions still remained unanswered. Where did we come from, how did we come to be? As long as there were things we couldn't explain, then there was still a need for the comfort of a Divinity, someone who would be our heavenly Father and help us shoulder our ignorance. Fortunately, as we prepare to leave the ignorance of the nineteenth century to enter the wonders that lie ahead, I'm sure, in the twentieth, there are those of us, thinking men, who know now that everything, and I mean everything, has a rational, viable explanation. Mr. Darwin has shown us this. Mr. Newton. Mr. Lavallier. The great Mr. Edison. Thinking men who have shown us that we needn't believe that there's anything beyond the rational. On stage, the Gravedigger turns to go, just as a rumbling sound emenates from below him. He looks around. The corpses look around, too. It gets bigger, and the Gravedigger sinks to his knees, and holds his ear to the ground. He stands bolt upright, and looks quickly to the church. The sound dims until it stops. The Gravedigger runs offstage. Here in our modern day church, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the Temple of Knowledge, we have been able to finally slay the ignorance of theology, and allowed men to break out of their prison of superstition. We have shown the world what is truth, and what is myth. The Gravedigger returns with Deacon Fairleigh, who is dressed in a robe and slippers. He listens to the Gravedigger ramble. He looks at the compass, and at the sky as he is instructed by the Gravedigger. He nods, and ponders. There are still the ignorant masses who blindly follow faith, afraid to have the strength to break away, once and for all, from the folly of superstition and religion, but we are making amazing strides. We in America have linked by rail our great nation, are building underground tunnels for our trains in the cities. We are illuminating the streets with Edison's electric light. My friend, Alexander Graham Bell, has created the telephone where once there was only the telegraph. Yet there are still some moments when fear drives the masses backwards into the darkness once more. The rumbling sound returns once more, shocking the corpses as well as the Deacon and the Gravedigger. It is not as loud, but it is enough to spook the two living people, who run off the stage once more. The lights begin to come up, slowly, as dawn rises. One such moment occurred only a few months ago, across the river in Boston, of all places, a city where science and learning is revered. With a mere shaking of the ground, and a few, as they were called, eerie and miraculous coincidences, the good people of Boston wanted to toss out the thousand years of learning that had brought them to where they were, the height of civilization and culture, and bow once more to the Gods of Olympus. It is light out, early morning, and the Deacon and Gravedigger return once more. The Corpses perk up when they see them. The Deacon is looking around grimly, and the Gravedigger keeps looking at ground level the entire time, awaiting. Deacon This is the strangest thing I have heard in my nearly thirty years of living. Corpse 1 (Aside) Or in my hunderd years a' dyin'. (Corpse 2 and Corpse 4 laugh) Gravedigger (With a lilting Irish brogue) Aye, I'm 'n agreement with you there, Deacon Fairleigh. As I was readyin' to bury ol' Missus Cabot, I looked up and saw with me own eyes what could not be anythin' more'n a two hundred year mistake. T'was when I did that, s'when the rumblin' came. Deacon That was a strange sound. A rumbling as I've never heard before. I can't imagine what on earth is causing it. Gravedigger Not of this earth, I'll tell you, for you had to hear the whisperin'. That's what got to me, more'n the rumblin'. Deacon We are both good, honest men, sir, and I know you truly believe what you say, but I must, for myself, hear this whispering you speak of. Gravedigger No offense, Deacon Fairleigh, but it is my greatest hope 'at you never hear those netherworld voices. Deacon Surely, the excitement of your discovery may have given you delusions. Gravedigger Deacon, sir, you must surely know the sanctity of certain traditions, understandin's. And the dreadful error that's put these poor people so that they're not pointin' north at all, it's somethin' that they're tryin' to tell us they need righted. Deacon I understand your feelings, and I know of the value of traditions, even those that we have forgotten the meanings of, for those may be the most important of all. As Deacon of King's Church, and as I learned before in my years of study at Harvard's Divinity School, the oral traditions of the church are just as important as those which we read in the Bible. But, please understand, I can't accept the near-blasphemous idea that the spirits of the dead are shaking their graves right here in the middle of downtown Boston. Gravedigger There is no coincidence that I figured out their plight and the ground began shakin' and the whispers arose, I'll tell you. These are the spirits demandin' the rightin' of a wrong. Deacon This is 1899, my man. People don't believe in such things anymore. Unless I can have some kind of proof, I can only believe this to be a natural occurance, like an earthquake, or the shaking of the steampipes, or some such. Gravedigger I pray to God you're right, Deacon. As a man o' the cloth, though, you should be the first to see the darkness beyond the light. People may not believe in such things anymore, but that doesn't mean they're not a-happenin'. I can't imagine how ten generations of gravediggers and their compasses were wrong, but Polaris tells me that this compass is wrong, no matter which way it points as north... There is a light rumbling again, and the Corpses stir to attention. Corpse 1 Damned if I know what t'hell is causing it, but may get us out of this. Corpse 2 P'rhaps 'tis the sign we've been waiting for. It's just like that crackling sound I heard as I passed. Corpse 4 You never got near t' the afterlife, probably was the sound of the shroud they wrapped yer with. The Gravedigger drops to the ground, listening. The Deacon stands his ground. Gravedigger I tell you, sir, that I'm hearing the whispers of the dead sure as I'm alive. Corpse 4 You think he really hears us? Corpse 2 Oh, hush up, ninny. Corpse 3 Please, stop it you two. The rumbling stops once more. Deacon This is a strange thing, indeed, and it is good that you woke me for this, but understand the position you put me into. I must first exhaust all logical recourses before I fall back on mystical possibilities. Gravedigger Are you denyin' what we've heard with our own ears? This is a miracle, and a church matter, surely. Deacon I, more than anyone, want to believe in miracles, but I must know the difference between the miraculous and the natural, first. Gravedigger There's nothin' natural that we've heard and felt. Anyone can tell you that. Deacon For now, let us hold this information between the two of us. There is no reason that we should incite a panic. We must establish all other sources as untrue before we start shouting "miracle." As much as I believe, honor and cherish the works of God, I must first consider the works of man. Gravedigger There are forces at work here, p'rhaps even evil. (Crosses himself) Deacon I pray you to hold your tongue. Gravedigger (Looks down) I don't want to cross you, sir. I just wonder at what you've to hide. Deacon I've nothing to hide, sir, but this shall be handled in my way, without undue attention. I trust you to keep silent of this affair until the proper authorities have been notified, and things are handled in a way befitting this parish and my parishonsers. The Gravedigger moves off silently, head down, wary of another rumbling. There is none. The Deacon stands before the grave of Corpse 3, and lowers to one knee. He begins the Lords Prayer in Latin, and Corpse 3 joins him silently. There is another rumbling, this one of middling power, and a shadow passes over Corpse 4's headstone. The Deacon drops to both knees, and presses his ear to the ground. There is a dark movement behind the headstone of Corpse 2, which frightens her into a startled scream. The Deacon jumps up and starts to look wildly at the headstones. Corpse 1's headstone begins to rock back, pitching him off. The Deacon sees this, and begins to back off, speaking the Ave Maria at the top of his voice. Corpse 3 joins him, as everyone looks to Corpse 1. The Deacon crosses himself, and rushes off. Corpse 1 What t'hell? 'f I weren't dead, that'd hurt. (Pulls himself back up, inspects the headstone) Corpse 4 P'rhaps it was that Judgement Day this rube over here is always goin' on about. Corpse 3 (Ecstatic) Could be, we've been here nigh on seventy years, from what the Deacon said. Times change, and we're at the end of the century. Corpse 1 (Nods his head) Could be, indeed. After nearly a hunderd years a sittin' here, nothin' of this sort's a happened a'fore. Corpse 2 God bless this day! We're taken away from this place a' ee-ternal chatter. Corpse 4 So when's it t' happen? Corpse 3 Hush! Wait and you will see the splendor of God. They sit expectantly for more than a minute, and nothing happens. The lights start to fade, and they have all become saddened. Just as the light fades to the night colors, Corpse 4 stirs. Corpse 4 Splendor 'a God my ass. Blackout SCENE 2 There is a pause, and the Gravedigger enters with the Constable. He points to the stars, then pulls out his compass. He points toward "True North" and then points toward the church. The Gravedigger moves over to Corpse 1's headstone, inspecting the stone, and showing the damage he finds to the Constable. Gravedigger These people are not a-properly buried. No wonder their a-turnin' in their damned earth. Constable (With a thick Irish accent) Did'ja need t' drag me to this bone orchard in the middle o' the night? It's eerie. I'm a keeper o' the peace. I don't see how this matter is my affair. Take it up with Deacon Fairleigh. Gravedigger I did, but even as the ground was shaking, he demanded my silence. Constable Silence when there's been this much damage already? Hmm. You have a point. But couldn't this be a prank. Gravedigger A two hundred and fifty year prank? Constable I mean the rumblin'. Some hooligan's from Southie... Gravedigger Look for yourself. Do you see any contraptions? There's no childish trickery goin' on here. This is a pronouncement from the dead, surely. Corpse 4 We may be a-saved yet. Constable What matter is it that their heads're not pointin' north? Gravedigger When a body's buried in a consecrated churchyard, their souls'll be trapped if they're not a-pointin' north. Corpse 3 (Over the gravedigger's line) Poppycock. Constable But why, cousin? Gravedigger Well, it's because...It has to do with the...Confound it, I've no idea, but my father and his father before him were taught this when they were apprentice gravediggers. It's a tradition, and even the Deacon admits that. Constable Shh! D'ja hear that? (There is no sound) Corpse 2 I don't 'ear a thing. Corpse 4 Me either. Constable Dear God in heaven, I heard 'em movin', I swears. Clear as a mourner's bell. Corpse 3 The man's daft. Corpse 1 Might get us out a' this fix. Gravedigger They're a tellin' us to put 'em right, or they'll rise five days hence on All Hallow's Eve. Sure as we're Monkstown men, these things've happened, right in our own town back in Eire. Constable Aye, you're right, there. I've heard tell of tales like this by my old man and his brothers. But these kinda things don't happen in America. (Pause) Do they? (He listens, truly scared) Well... Gravedigger Then you think I'm a right, doncha, cousin? Deacon Fairleigh may be in league with ol' Scratch, lettin' these poor souls spend their eternity a rollin' in their graves. There's somethin' evil about this. The compass is a pointin' at the church, too. Major evil in that, ain't there. Constable Aye, you're right about that. I'm frightened o' this place. I need a stout. Lemme go back to Houlihan's. Gravedigger (Handing the Constable a flask) A man a' God oughta be looking after his flock, and these dead'un's are just as much his flock as we. (He turns to look SL toward the church in the distance) Constable I c'n hear 'em, plain as day. These graves hold the souls a' the damned. Corpse 4 (To the Constable) I don't know whatcha hearin', but keep it up, 'n save our sorry souls. Gravedigger Not natural how these bodies've been buried. The ground shook, the whispers rose, and the headstones moved in a dance. Corpse 3 So, the headstones were dancing? My, good news travels fast. Corpse 4 Soon, we'll hear that we pulled ourselves up through the sod, 'n danced a jig on Boylston Street. Constable Who'da thought that modern day Boston could harbor these evil things. It's like Salem comin' back to us all again, but this time, we know how the Devil dresses. Deacon Fairleigh enters, John Weller at his side. The Deacon is angered by the men. Deacon I see my Gravedigger can't hold his tongue when asked. Good evening, Constable, and what fantastical stories are being circulated here? Has a corpse risen from the dead and asked for some peace and quiet? Corpse 4 Damned well wish I could, too. Constable My cousin approached me about a matter of a disturbance of the peace. Since this is my jurisdiction, I followed him. When I came here, Deacon, I heard the dead a-whisperin' to me. I'm a man of law and order, and I accept your position as a man of God, but there's somethin' unnatural 'bout this graveyard that you been a tryin' to keep from the good people a' this ol' parish. Deacon Please, listen to me! It seems that there have been stories said about this place that are completely untrue. There is an evil present, yes, but it is in those who take an incident, add more to it, and make themselves bigger by doing so. (He pauses, looking at the Gravedigger) There was a disturbance. I will be the first to admit it. The ground did shake slightly, and the disturbance caused one headstone to move. But that is it! I have not heard these whispers that you speak of. Can you look me right in the eye, hand clutching this Bible, and tell me that you have, too? (The Constable is silent) I'm glad to see that faith still exists here. (Pause) This man is Mister John Weller. He is a scholar from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I have brought him here to explore every possibility that exists about these occurances. His knowledge of the natural sciences is well documented. I know that if there is any rational reason whatsoever for these occurances, he is the man that will find them. (Pause) Constable Are you saying that these evil happenin's are natural? Deacon It is only after all of the viable possibilities for an explanation have been researched that I will begin looking over any other alternatives that are left to us. Constable And it is my greatest hope, your honor, that you are able t' come t' terms with what is happening before 'tis too late. Need I remind you that All-Hallow's Eve is a-fast approachin'. Gravedigger Aye, he's right! Weller (Stepping forward heroically) There is no reason to worry. Everything has a rational, viable explanation. What has happened here is, no doubt, of a geologic nature. A shifting of the hills that surround us, perhaps the movement of a previously unknown fault in the area. I must remind you all that we are sitting beside Beacon Hill, which has been systematically ripped down almost seventy feet from its original height to fill in the marshes of the Back Bay. Perhaps this massive restructuring of the Shawmut Peninsula has triggered some type of movement in the earth. Corpse 2 What'd he just say? Corpse 4 I 'aven't the foggiest. Weller Whatever its cause, I'm positive that we won't find that something as trivial as a burial procedure has been the reason behind the movement of the earth. Corpse 1 I see now. He's explaining why we don't exist. Gravedigger Respect the past, Mr. Weller. You should know best that everything's a-done for a reason. (Begins to exit, warningly to the Constable) 'n everything happens for one, too. Corpse 4 You tell'em, gravedigger. Weller (The Gravedigger exits as Weller chuckles) Whatever may be happening here, Constable, you should know that there is no reason to panic. No ghosts or hobgobblins will be walking through this graveyard on Hallow'een. Constable I hope you're right, Mister Weller. I've to keep the peace here on Boylston Street. My sergeant wouldn't appreciate the ruckus being created here. Good day, gentlemen. (To the Gravedigger) Wait for me... The Constable exits quickly, obvoiusly not liking having to walk through the graveyard alone. The Deacon leads Weller over to inspect the damage to Corpse 1's headstone. The Deacon then exits,leaving Weller to poke around the area beside the graves. Corpse 4 Kinda stuck up, ain't 'e? Corpse 3 He's a man of science and knowledge. 'Tis self-assurance, not 'airs'. Corpse 2 You'd be the one 'd get the two confused, preacher. Corpse 4 I don't like a' looks of this 'self-insuranced' bloke. Corpse 2 Fer once in our damned time together, I'm 'n agreement with yer, sister. Corpse 3 I think you're both much too full of bile. The man studies at M.I.T., for mercy's sake. Granted, it's not Harvard, but it has it's own standing. Corpse 1 All's we c'n hope's that this gentleman'll make sure of our being buried proper-like. Corpse 2 I'd take j'st about anythin' to end this torment. Weller looks up to the sky, pondering. Corpses 1 and 4 (Simultaneously) Amen. Blackout TO BE CONTINUED...