(The River Styx and its banks. The left bank is covered in a pitch-black night, interrupted only by the green waters of the river, running through the centre. The far bank holds a stinking grey fog, where land can only just be made out. Upon this bank stands a statue – a woman, robbed of her upper half, and the outlines of a girl clutching at her remaining hand.
Rocking across the river (toward the statue) is a frail raft – no more than a few pieces of wood tied together. On it are Charon – bent double, face obscured by a cloak of indeterminate age - and there is The Father. On reaching the far bank, Charon straightens. He is impossibly tall.
The Father springs out onto the bank and makes for the statue. Upon seeing it, his face changes from anticipation to a confused despair.)
THE FATHER: Where is my wife? She’s half gone
CHARON: You’ll never know, my boy. That’s the big man for you.
THE FATHER: Zeus?
CHARON: Time.
(There is a short pause.)
THE FATHER: You know something - I’ll kill him.
CHARON: You can’t!
THE FATHER: Why not?
CHARON: Because. He’s Time. What do you want me to do? Your daughter’s still there, talk to her instead. You’ve not got long left.
(Falling to his knees, the father cradles the stone face in his palms. He bends his head to his daughter’s ear, then looks up.)
THE FATHER: (despairingly, to Charon) What can I say?
CHARON: Who do you think I am - a god? Quit questioning me. Give her something to think about. A parable. A warning. I don’t know.
(The father’s face hardens, turning from grief into something far more inscrutable. Once again, he bends his head to the girl’s ear.)
THE FATHER:
Run, girl, run from the ravages of time
Hazard not the sculptor’s promise of eternal life -
Don’t you know - what you’ve condemned yourself to?
Hades cannot save stone
From the time’s desires
From
the dripping of days
upon your frozen face
the theft by silent seconds
of your hands and your lips -
He will have you by any means
He will take you,
Piece by piece – take you
Slowly,
In agony.
Run girl, run, I can rest in death, he has me now,
– but for you –
the chase is eternal
the chase is torturous.
Let go of your mother’s skirts my daughter
No Daphne are you,
No boughs of freedom await
You have but one hope -
To outrun him
Him – faster than Zephyrus.
Run girl, run, so you too
Can fall upon some gravestone
And be free.
(He shudders, and draws a deep breath.)
CHARON: Time’s up.
(The father stands, then steps back into the boat, his back to the shore - and the statue. Charon, in the same position as before, begins to row. Halfway across the river, the father turns back for a split second to a fading image of his daughter and (what is left of) his wife – Orpheus in reverse.)
