Winter Stars

 
WINTER STARS

(reprinted with permission of T. S. Poetry Press)

 

Time & Place
Midwinter, in an ancient forest clearing.

Characters

NARRATOR

HOLLY KING: Winter; rules over the dark half of the year, from midwinter to midsummer. Twin of the Oak King.

OAK KING: Summer; rules over the light half of the year, from midsummer to midwinter. Twin of the Holly King.

NoteThe setting of this play is described in detail, but if it must be altered for a stage performance, the most important thing is that the feeling of the clearing—old, beautiful, magical and wild—remain intact in some way. The time of year should also be evident.

WINTER STARS
(The stage is dark and unlit as the NARRATOR speaks.)

NARRATOR (off stage)
According to legend, each year in midsummer and midwinter, the Holly King and Oak King fight. The Holly King is strongest in midsummer, and the Oak King in midwinter. During the fight where they are at their strongest, one sibling kills his twin, who rests with Arianrhod, the goddess of reincarnation, in the castle of Caer Arianrhod, until his return at the next change of seasons.

(Lights fade up onto a forest clearing, untouched by time and human hands. The land is scattered in widely-spread trees, tall and old. The ground is covered in snow, and icicles hang like crystals from the silent branches. Holly grows here and there, its red berries bright and shining against the whiteness.

The HOLLY KING sits among the trees, on a fallen log, clad in old, Celtic-style clothing. A crown of holly rests upon his head. The OAK KING enters from stage right, walking slowly. He is dressed similarly to his brother, but his clothes are more reminiscent of light and summer. In his hair, he wears a crown of oak leaves.)

HOLLY KING (looking up, smiling)
Brother, you have returned!

OAK KING (jestingly)
Every year, I do persist, O noblest Holly King.

HOLLY KING (rising)
And I wait whole years to see you gone.

(The HOLLY KING approaches the OAK KING
and grins, embracing his twin and
patting him on the back.)HOLLY KING
Oh, it has been too long.

OAK KING
Not as long as usual. I feel summer has been early these past few years.

HOLLY KING (sadly)
And winter short.

(The OAK KING sits on the log.)OAK KING
It’s the humans, you know. They’ve done things. The balance is shifted… I feel it in my veins. Like fire.

(The HOLLY KING begins to pace.)HOLLY KING
It’s strength, isn’t it?

OAK KING
Yes. It is.

HOLLY KING
Do you like it?

OAK KING
No.

(The HOLLY king glances at his brother,
then joins him, seated.)HOLLY KING
I feel sickly.

OAK KING
I know.

HOLLY KING
How?

OAK KING
Your hair. (He reaches out to touch a streak of his brother’s long hair.) It’s begun to gray. And you look dreadful. As if you’ve gone months without sleep.

HOLLY KING
I have. Each night, when I retreat into the holly leaves… into the snow and into the frost… it feels like I’m burning. As if I’ve laid in a river with hemlock in its waves. It keeps getting worse. But now… It’s never been this bad.

OAK KING
I am sorry. (Pause.) The sky has suffered, too.

HOLLY KING (looking upwards)
It’s darker. There are more clouds.

OAK KING
Not real clouds, you know.

HOLLY KING
Fake clouds?

OAK KING
The humans put them there.

HOLLY KING
Did they put the shadows in water, too?

OAK KING
I suppose… The wind says it’s all related. Something about “what goes up must come down.” There was science. I got distracted.

HOLLY KING (laughing, half-heartedly)
You’re always distracted.

OAK KING
Not always.

HOLLY KING
No. Not always.

OAK KING
How bad is it?

HOLLY KING
Bad.

OAK KING (questioningly)
Is this…

HOLLY KING
I think so.

OAK KING
…Sometimes when you’re gone, I look into the constellations. When I come to this glade, where no mortal has walked, I can see them shining. I look for your soul in the Wheel of Stars.

HOLLY KING
I know. I’ve seen you.

OAK KING
Will you see me this time?

HOLLY KING
I don’t know. It might be the same. Or maybe different… So much is different now.

OAK KING
You will give greetings to Arianrhod?

HOLLY KING
Will I see her? If I’m not coming ba— (He fades off.)

OAK KING
Don’t say it.

HOLLY KING
I’m sorry.

OAK KING
You shouldn’t be sorry. They should.

HOLLY KING
“They” who?

OAK KING
You know who.

HOLLY KING
Yes… I do.

OAK KING (standing)
We ought to get on with it. The seasons should be changing soon.

(The HOLLY KING stands, a sword in his hand,
which was hidden before, behind the fallen log.
The audience doesn’t see it retrieved.
The OAK KING has a sword as well.)HOLLY KING
On with it, then.

(The twins raise their swords, closing their eyes.
A wind stirs. Their eyes open, and they begin to fight.)HOLLY KING
My, this is difficult. I feel as if I might as well lay down my weapon.

OAK KING
Don’t make this worse… I won’t kill you in cold blood.

HOLLY KING
“Cold?”

OAK KING
A figure of speech.

(The fight continues.)HOLLY KING
I feel my breath. It’s fading.

OAK KING
Don’t. Please don’t.

HOLLY KING
It’s true.

(The sun grows stronger in the sky.
Everything is brighter. The fighting pauses.)

HOLLY KING (gesturing at the sun)
You see?

OAK KING
The snow is melting beneath our feet.

HOLLY KING
The summer plants need warmth to grow.

OAK KING
One of these years they won’t make it. Even desert willows die if their leaves fall torrid.

HOLLY KING
It’s really not fair, is it?

OAK KING
No. But it never was.

HOLLY KING
I will the cold, but it doesn’t come. The ice is all but gone.

OAK KING
The birds are out.

HOLLY KING
They’re happy.

OAK KING
I guess someone should be.

HOLLY KING
Yes. Always.

(The HOLLY KING collapses onto the ground.
The OAK KING rushes to his side.)OAK KING
Not yet. It’s too fast. There are too many…

HOLLY KING
Too many?

OAK KING
Too many things I wanted to say.

HOLLY KING
Then say them now.

OAK KING
I can’t.

HOLLY KING
I know the feeling.

OAK KING
…You were wonderful, you know? I always envied winter.

HOLLY KING
Did you?

OAK KING
Yes. It was… magical.

HOLLY KING
I’m glad. I was always quite proud of it.

OAK KING
I loved the way the frost formed. There were always patterns in the ice. Like the walls of Caer Arianrhod.

HOLLY KING
So, someone noticed… I always loved those walls. It’s not a terrible place to spend eternity. Perhaps it’s a bit like heaven.

OAK KING
Do people ever get to heaven?

HOLLY KING
I think they used to.

OAK KING
Not anymore?

HOLLY KING
I wouldn’t know. It’s not my job.

OAK KING
Right. Of course…

HOLLY KING
It’s time, I think. The chill has left the air, and there are flowers beneath the ground. I sense them. Fighting their way out.

OAK KING
As do I.

HOLLY KING
Come, then.

(The OAK KING raises his sword.)OAK KING
It feels wrong. To think that it ends here.

HOLLY KING
What will the humans say, when I don’t return? Perhaps they’ll regret. That would be nice. It would mean they cared. And if not cared, then noticed. I hope they notice…

OAK KING
I believe the world will weep.

HOLLY KING
How odd that such a sad thought could make me feel better.

OAK KING
I will search for you in the stars. I will gaze upon your soul in the Aurora Borealis.

HOLLY KING
And I will see you from the Silver Wheel. Now come. Don’t hesitate.

(The OAK KING takes a deep breath,
then stabs the HOLLY KING.)OAK KING
I will don the trees with wreaths of holly, when midwinter comes again.

HOLLY KING (smiling sadly)
And it will be as lovely as the stars.

(The HOLLY KING takes one last breath.
The OAK KING closes his eyes and
tilts his head back to face the sky.)

END OF PLAY

© T. S. Poetry Press. Used with permission.
For producing rights contact “editor [at] tspoetry [dot] com”

 

Winter Stars: Three 10-Minute Plays: From Tragedy to Fantasy to Comedy

“These three short plays are a perfect evening’s read. With a mixed offering—tragedy, comedy, a little vampire to boot—the stories will take you from an ancient forest to New York to a suburban backyard that could be anywhere. The dialogue is crisp, economical. Not a word is wasted while these quick stories build to unexpected turns, each telling their own tales of brotherly love, unlikely friendship, and, well, an overzealous would-be mystic. And while it can be tempting to gloss over the stage directions when reading a play that one is not going to be performing, a reader should resist this, lest they miss out on some hidden gems from this clever playwright.”

—Will Willingham