Creative non fiction always seemed like a slippery slope since the author can whip up as much creative description and reflection as they can imagine as long as the facts are there, mostly. Many attempts at creative non fiction of mine failed because they slowly, somewhere, metamorphasized into full blown fiction. Below is an example that succeeded. With the guidelines and instruction from class, as well as material from Dan Kwong, I was able to write about an experience I had as a young boy that destroyed Christmas for me.
Solo Play
A dark stage is illuminated by a spotlight on an old, simple wall clock. It reads 11:35 pm. At that moment, Jon reveals himself by opening a door obscured by darkness. Light and the furnishings of a lake house hallway are behind him. His shadow is cast against the light from the open door across the left of the stage. As he creeps through, the audience can see he is wearing a red dinosaur onesie.
At that moment, a pre recorded track of Jon begins to play. It is an adult looking back on a youthful exploit, ala “The Wonder Years.”
“Have you ever done something you thought was fun but later regretted?” Jon stops as if despite being a child in the re-lived memory, he is passively aware of the narrator’s voice. “I’m talking about something you knew was bad, but you did anyway.”
Jon nervously checks behind him and closes the door. Lights illuminate the stage showing it is a room of the house that was being utilized as an office that no one used anymore. The floor is covered in ruddy, oversized ceramic tiles. Two desks occupy opposite ends of the room with filing cabinets separating them. There are various end tables and chairs being stored wherever space allowed. Mid step, little Jon freezes in place.
“Did you ever do something so bad that you actually taught yourself a lesson?” A blinding spotlight hits Jon in the face, he winces and nods in confession. “When I was nine years old I found where my parents had hidden my presents weeks before Christmas.” Little Jon slowly tries to elude the spotlight while the narrator is distracted with exposition. The spotlight does not follow him as he skulks away. “I was a clever little deviant and once I had located the innocuous black trash bag under the far desk, all I had to do was wait until everyone went to sleep. I- wait, where the hell did I...?” He stops as the spotlight searches the set. It finds little Jon already half way through the prop trash bag, discarding toys as he digs.
“Damn it can’t you just wait? You’re getting way ahead of the story here.” Little Jon stops but does not look away from the presents in the bag. “Well I guess you can’t wait, can you?” Little Jon shakes his head emphatically. “Okay then, since you’re in such a hurry, we’ll skip ahead.” Men in black jumpsuits storm the stage, moving boxes and turning desks until the setting has changed into the living room complete with twinkling Christmas tree. The men snatch the toys from Jon as he tries to collect them. “Oh stop it, you would’ve had the chance to play with them if you hadn’t skipped ahead of me.” Little Jon looks around for the source of the voice. Finding nothing, he calls out, “You’re just punishing me you jerk!” Then flops down on the sofa with arms irrevocably crossed.
“Yeah, I tend to do that. So anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I had sneaked into the office to look at my toys over and over. Each night, I got bolder and more impatient to play with them. I tried to remove the tape that held the factory packaging closed so that I might play with then return the toys to their boxes and no one would be the wiser because there would be no signs of forced entry.” Little Jon smiled wide and nodded again. “But the wait and the guilt began to torture me.” Jon leaped from the couch and began anxiously pacing back and forth. “My fortitude to wait had reached its limit days before Christmas and I began to hate the whole thing. The toys, the day, my family, myself, the world, I hated it all.” Green hued lights slowly fall on the stage as one side of the floor begins to raise. Jon keeps pacing. His anger and state of mind is represented by the skewed stage tilting and sickly lights.
“I about had a nervous breakdown by Christmas eve. We got to open one gift (as was tradition) and as I looked at them, I knew what each and every one was.” Jon picks a small one, sits on the floor in front of the tree with a thud and apathetically reveals a pack of tube socks from the wrapping. “Come Christmas morning, I knew I had to act surprised and excited or the jig would be up!” Jon opens boxes with highly exaggerated movements and expressions of painted-on surprise.
“It killed me. I knew what they all were. There was no genuine surprise. I wasted that in the
dark office long ago. It hit me,” Jon stops and looks to the audience with a look of clarity and regret. “I killed Christmas. It sunk in.” The same men in black jumpsuits converge on stage, stripping it of every item like ants deconstructing another large insect’s corpse as played in super fast forward footage. “ I would go on to have fun with my toys, but I never forgot how cheated, how cheapened how stolen and empty that Christmas felt. I resolved to never cheat again. Well except on tests, but that’s a play for another day!” Lynryd Skynryd like music begins to play and Jon stands waving to say goodbye for far too long. He stoops as the curtain falls and continues to look at the audience and wave until the curtain meets the floor.