The Golden Veil

The Golden Veil; or, A Tragedy in Three Doors was a blasphemous play long rumored to be lost.

Excerpt

Act II, Scene iii: "The Garden of the Last Accord" The set is sparse: three veiled doorframes stand at opposing ends of the stage. A withered tree leaks golden sap at center. No sky. No ground. Just the suggestion of a stage where time is a breath.

Dramatis Personae:

• The Pilgrim – A traveler who no longer remembers what they flee.

• The Mirror-Bride – A veiled figure who may be the Pilgrim's reflection.

• The Black Confessor – A masked priest who has abandoned absolution.

• The Laughing Herald – A jester who cannot stop weeping.

• The Whispered Flame – A silent figure cloaked in ash, speaking only in stage directions.

The Whispered Flame (Sathul):

[The Pilgrim stands before the tree. The Herald circles, laughing thinly. The Bride enters through Door I. The Confessor watches from the second archway. A long silence.]

The Pilgrim (Ilabrar):

Why do you wear the veil, if not to hide? I have passed the first door. I passed through fire, through the gate of salt. I remember nothing.

The Mirror-Bride (Cheeky)(unmoving): I wear the veil because you handed it to me. It smells of salt. And honey. And underneath, I am still smiling.

The Laughing Herald (Ka-Ess) (giggling and sobbing):

He asked to forget, and so they took his name.

He asked for mercy, and they gave him a stage.

He said: “The first door leads to memory.”

He said: “The second opens inward.”

But he said nothing of the third.

He only bled.

The Black Confessor (Ardrick) (stepping forward):

Behind the third door walks the beast that remembers you. It has your shadow in its mouth.

The Whispered Flame (Sathul) (aside, or stage direction):

(Lights flicker. The tree bleeds. One door creaks open behind them. Cold light spills in.)

The Pilgrim (Ilabrar) (falling to knees):

Then I am not the first. I am not even the one I was. If I put on the mask, who speaks? If I walk the door, who returns?

The Mirror-Bride (Cheeky) (approaching slowly):

No. But you are beautiful in your ending.

The Laughing Herald (Ka-Ess) (now solemn): The veil burns gold when the flame is ready. Shall we sing, or scream?

When the veil is burned, we see the world as it is:

A stage with no players, and all the exits nailed shut.

The Black Confessor (Ardrick) (to the audience):

When the third door opens, no mask remains. You do not pass through it. It passes through you.

The Laughing Herald (Ka-ess) (advancing, voice a weaving of mirth and mournful prophecy)

Upon the shattered edge of laughter’s throne, I dance, where mirth and madness weave as one.

The stars themselves forget their ancient names,

And silence crowns my brow with thornèd wreath.

Once did I sing of joy’s eternal flame, Now dirges rise for dreams undone, undone!

Tread soft, O traveler — the dance hath no end, And music plays for those who would forget.

The Whispering Flame (Sathul): [Curtain falls. The doors remain open. The sap gleams red.]