Scene 4
They split the seams of the story, a clean cut, it barely bleeds. One by one they step inside until I can only see the grey cloaked women in my mind. I feel them walking, exploring the scene, moving things around. I take notes.
They creep around the room like shadows.
They show themselves to us as an old woman, a middle-aged woman, and a young girl.
All ancient. All powerful. All eternal.
CLOTHO
Poor things.
LACHESIS
What have they done to earn your pity?
CLOTHO
I-I mean, nothing I suppose. It just felt like the thing to say. Narratively speaking.
ATROPOS
Try not to get attached.
CLOTHO goes over to CLYTEMNESTRA and turns her head, admiring her in the paper crown like a child admires a pretty doll. She may have to climb on the bed to do this, which is fine.
LACHESIS
Oh, but she certainly does look the part doesn’t she?
CLOTHO
Can’t we pleeease let her be queen?
ATROPOS
Not this time, you forget yourself
CLOTHO
That's not what I meant, I'm-
ATROPOS
Let the mortals play their little stories out, sisters. Let them dance with the lighthearted muses. Forever we will weave and unweave, but the threads remember who they are. The story rises, a new creature with the same shadow.
CLOTHO
You are never any fun.
LACHESIS
(Picking up CLYTEMNESTRA’s candle)
A grieving mother lights a candle for Demeter.
ATROPOS
A vengeful mother
LACHESIS
Both
CLOTHO has taken the paper crown off of CLYTEMNESTRA and put it on her head, she giggles.
LACHESIS
Put that back.
ATROPOS picks up a collection of The Homeric Hymns from CLYTEMNESTRA’s table and reads aloud.
ATROPOS
“…for she vowed that she would never set foot on fragrant Olympus nor let fruit spring out of the ground, until she beheld with her eyes her own fair-faced daughter.”
LACHESIS
(looking out the window)
Lots of people out there.
ATROPOS
Much to be done.
They both look over at CLOTHO, who is in a corner with a lamp or light switch. She turns the light off.
Blackout.
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