Author's Note (and Disclaimer): Don't ask me what mood I was in when I wrote this. Basically, it's three of my original characters from different universes. Their universes don't belong to me, but they do. I apologize for the format. I'm sure it's wrong.

Three Voices
By Selma McCrory
copyright 1999

[Dark. Then dim lights come on, revealing three figures, female, in shadow, paused standing. One stands near the center back of the stage, facing the back, the other two standing near and facing opposite sides of the stage.]

[The three figures unpause. The middle figure looks heavenward.]

VOICE 1 [Softly]
Alone, I wander through the streets
My observers close behind, my once-colleagues
Recording the recorder.

[The figure on the left turns her head briefly towards the middle figure]

VOICE 2 [A little louder than the first voice]
And alone, I walk the beach, not really there
My mind a million miles away
Called from my peace, I try to find myself again.

[The figure on the right folds her hands in front of her as if in prayer.]

VOICE 3 [Louder than the second voice, pain-laced.]
Alone still, I walk ship's corridors,
By myself even among my kin.
What will they want to take from me today?

[The figure on the left turns her head briefly.]

VOICE 2 [Voice getting stronger, determined, although still fairly soft]
I am what I am, though I puzzle them.
I am what I am, rebel and friend.

[The middle figure bows her head.]

VOICE 1 [About the same level, though sad not determined]
I am what I am, lost sister a-walking
Puzzle forever, to them and to me.

[The figure on the right sits down.]

VOICE 3 [Same vocal level, irritated, frustrated, esp. towards end]
I am the rebel. No mercy they give me.
They want me to be normal, dull, serene.

[Figure in middle gives a quarter turn towards the figure on right]

VOICE 1 [Down to quiet, gentle, soothing]
I like things quiet. They know this,
They see this. Safe for their trainees,
I wander the streets.

[As if sensing the middle figure's move, the figure on the right turns towards her slightly]

VOICE 3 [Voice louder, longing] I like things quiet too, but not like this.
This is not my life, not my home.
I long for my home, my normal life.

[Figure on left shakes head]

VOICE 2 [Same volume as middle, quietly arguing]
Things are too quiet now. No more the hero
Saving the world, just one more civilian.
I long for the fight in my blood.

[Figure on right gets up.]

VOICE 3 [Sharply]
I want to go back! Not for me these changes,
Taking me away from who I am.

VOICE 1 [Still angled towards figure on right and speaking to her]
We can't rewrite history. I have made my home;
Knowing the other side, I cannot return.

VOICE 2 [Quiet, thoughtful, ignoring central and right figures]
If I could go back, I would go back gladly.
I miss my call, but I must be myself.

[Figure in center turns towards back]

VOICE 1 [Quietly]
Lost in the streets, I can almost forget
I am different. An illusion, only,
But one I can live with.

[Figure on left raises head.]

VOICE 2 [A little stronger]
And in my home town, I, too, can forget.
Until the call comes. Until I must remember.
Crying my tears, I wait until I forget again.

[Figure on right shakes head.]

VOICE 3 [Soft, somewhat sorrowful]
Those who can forget are fortunate;
I am not one of them. My surroundings pain me.
There is no way home.

[Pause, the figures freeze again as the lights dim to darkness.]

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