2 Monologues for Males 20-30's
(free for students & auditions)
from the one act play Cast Spell
By G. L. Horton
copyright © 1985
Two members of the cast party at the close of a critic-panned
musical swap ghost stories. RICH: 20's or early 30's, a
handsome would-be musical theatre leading man, and
GREG: 20's or 30's, the composer of the show "The
Heart Tried By Sorrow"
RICH: I saw a ghost when I was just
a kid. Staying at my cousin Didi's. Her mom believed in all that
stuff. The family had charms and rhymes and gizmos nailed to the
doors and stuff, to ward off the spooks. But obviously the charms
didn't work, cause I woke up in the attic room with something
pulling my covers off the bed. I jerked them back up, and this
thing pulled them back down again. We played tug-o-war till I
let go to scream and the covers all went flying. And then my whole
family ran up. Of course they didn't see anything-- I hadn't either.
Just the sense of a shape-- so I suppose you could say I didn't
see it: the ghost I saw. But boy, I felt it! It was fighting me
for those covers, and it was strong!
GREG: About three years ago I went
up to New Hampshire to stay with this friend of mine, William
Deems. When he picked me up at the bus station Will looked kinda
funny, like there was something wrong but he didn't want to tell
me. I thought maybe his girlfriend had showed up and he wanted
to get rid of me. But when I asked him, Will just laughed and
said he didn't know how to explain it, but there was something
weird about his cabin. Weird is right. It was haunted! It'd belonged
to this little old lady, maybe 85. She lived out there all alone,
doing the chores all herself, right up to the winter she died.
After she died, seems she decided to stick around the place. Will
would go out in the morning and come back to find a fire lit in
the stove, or the lamp on, if he got home after dark. After a
while Will just got used to it. Granny'd do up the dishes, or
leave out a cup of hot tea for him. He'd be reading or working
while the old lady's rocker would be going gently back and forth,
back and forth. Like she was sitting there knitting. But if Will
made a mess, or left his gear around, Granny'd bang drawers at
him, or clash the pots and pans. Well, when we got there, sure
enough, there was a teakettle whistling, and the rocker going
back and forth, back and forth. Will gave me a funny look, and
said-- to the rocker, he said this-- "Granny, this is my friend,
Greg. Don't you play your tricks and frighten him, now." And the
rocker stopped. Stopped dead. And that was it for the weekend.
No bumps in the night, no chill wind or rattling chains or anything.
Until. Right before I was to get the bus back, Will made us a
last pot of coffee, poured the cups on the stove and started drinking
his. I said, "Hey, where's mine?" And then I saw that other coffee
cup lift itself up off the counter and sail slowly through the
air, to plop down right next to my hand.