A man sits centre stage, wearing a tuxedo. There is a dinner table in front of him with 4 other empty seats. He stands with a glass of wine in his hand and addresses the audience.
UNKNOWN MAN: To the right and honourable Mr. Henshaw.
You, my friend have been an inspiration to us all. Tonight I will label you the Pursuer of Dreams. You have decided your future, you have decided your path, you have decided everything about your pursuit. You have taken your Dream and grasped it tightly. You will not let go, as it will not let go of you. A Dream does not happen magically, it takes hard work, perseverance and tenacity, all of which you have demonstrated immeasurably.
UNKNOWN MAN: How does it feel to be starting a new chapter in your everlasting story? How does it
feel to be writing this part of life in your book? To be taking the first step in your journey to the top of the lighthouse, misted by thick fog. This my friend is your legacy. Your new life. As you enter your new life, remember that everyone in this room stands behind you. We are proud to see you pursue your Dreams. We are ecstatic that you have found your drive, your land in which to thrive. Most importantly however, we are honoured to have been a part of every chapter. And we will be more than honoured to stand beside you as your adventure continues.
Begins to recite a poem.
UNKNOWN MAN: Quickly, the world closes in,
quickly, you run.
Quickly, they try to narrow you down,
quickly, you run.
Quickly the path begins to disappear,
quickly you run. Run. Run to your dreams.
Now raise your glass (raises glass) as I say, from all of us here, you are an inspiration, a paragon of kindness, and most importantly our friend. We love you and wish you the best in your journey, your adventure, your life.
To Henshaw!
With this toast the man’s face turns sullen. He slumps back into his chair and stairs at each empty seat.
HENSHAW: That’s what they would say right? They would be proud of me. Wouldn’t they? I haven’t forsaken them, I’m just a bit late. Mere mortals cannot control the tides of war, we are just targets running like headless chickens, aimless.
I will be there soon brothers. I will be there when the sun rises. I will be by your side in the cold ground. “We are men and we must fight!” You fool… We should have stayed together, together we were unbreakable.
Begins to recite poem again
HENSHAW: Quickly, the world closes in,
quickly, you run.
Quickly, they try to narrow you down,
quickly, you run.
Quickly the path begins to disappear,
quickly you run. Run. Run to your grave.
Henshaw reaches for a knife on the table, picks it up and raises it to his neck. The lights go dark as the sound of a slice is heard. The audience see his body struggle and wriggle in the darkness until a final stillness. The knife hits the floor with a loud metallic clang.
END.
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