Write a scene for a stage play.
Internment Camp, Unknown. Midnight.
34800, he's a tall withering prisoner, and he's hunched over in his cell. He's unsure how long he has been here, and he isn't knowledgeable as to why he was put here in the first place. He is in his early 70's, and his hair is wispy. He places his hands around the same bars he's been grasping for decades. JACOBSON, a well known internment camp guard. He's sometimes has a heart of gold, but his intentions are clear to 34800.
34800: Hey Jacobson, ho-hows the wife and chi-children?
34800'S tone is shaky, from old age. His stutter came from years of torment at the hands of the guards. His face is neautral.
Jacobson: She's doing well.
JACOBSON nods and stands a few feet away from the bars which separates both of them.
The youngest one is going to school now, Marisol is learning a new language in high school.
34800: That sounds wonderful. I cannot believe yo-your youngest is in hi-highschool now.
34800 is forgetful as the years pass. He manages to scramble his words more than enough times.
I cannot remember the last ti-time I he-held a book.
JACOBSON: I know. You've told me many times.
JACOBSON nods sympathetically as he leans in a little closer to talk to 34800.
Do you remember who you were before you came here?
Shakes his head as tears begins to well in his nearly, blind eyes.
I-I've told you time and time. I hav-haven't a clue as to who I was. Al-although I'd like to think-
I'd li-like to think I was a farmer.
JACOBSON: I'm sorry you've been here for so long.
34800: It almost fe-feels like I wa-was born here.
34800 nods. He feels a sudden purge of visions. Images fill his head, it's from his life before this. He gasps and places a shaky hand over his mouth. 34800 is shocked.
JACOBSONS face peers through the bars and 34800 sits back into his hard bench chained to the wall. JACOBSON'S genuinely confused.
34800: I-I was named Je-Jeremiah Mi-Milos.
34800 nods in an assuring fashion. JACOBSON is attentively listening.
I ha-had a wife. Oh. Oh my. She was so bea-beautiful. I'm not sure what her name was, but she wa-was ravishing. We had a child together, just o-one. A bo-boy.
34800's hands tremble as he folds them in his lap.
I wa-was at home, with my fa-family, when-
34800 lets his tears roll. JACOBSON feels his heart drop to hear his story for the first time.
When men who bare the same em-emblem as you came rushing in. I-it was du-during the war, wh-which I'm sure is no more.
34800 shakes his head in somber.
JACOBSON: You're right. The war has been over for decades.
34800: When my wife was taken from me. She was dragged out and executed in our fields. The-they took-
His voice cracks as he cries some more.
The-they took my boy from me. They didn't sh-show him mercy like my wi-wife. He mu-must be in one of these ce-cells.
JACOBSON: It's highly unlikely. There's are thousands of internment camps within our country, which were made during the civil war.
34800: I was only young when they took me. My bo-boy was only a toddler.
He buries his face in his hands.
I remember be-being no older th-than 20. I've been here for ha-half a century.
He cries and JACOBSON nods. JACOBSON reaches a hand into his cell and pats him on his shoulder. It shocks 34800, but it's a nice gesture. This is his first touch with another human that wasn't vile.
My bo-boy must be gro-grown up now. I missed out.
JACOBSON: Do you remember why you were taken?
He continues to rub 34800's shoulder.
34800: Yes.. It was because of the God I believed in. It was because of my heritage.
No stutter. He begins to chant to himself in a familiar song he once sung. It was a song from his religion. He continued to sing as he grows louder. Many other prisoners began to chime along to the same tune. JACOBSON is left feeling sad and moved as the prisoners sing in unison. 34800 smiles contently.
34800: This one is for you my bo-boy.
He joins the singing again.
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