The play takes place inside of a prison cell. The cell has one barred window upstage center. The cell is dark except for a candle which is the only source of light. THE PRISONER uses the candlelight to write something on a scrappy piece of paper. On the bed, lays THE DEVIL looking at the ceiling saying nothing. The Prisoner finishes writing and moves the paper closer to the light to see it better.
The Devil: You're done?
The Prisoner: Almost.
The Devil: What's missing?
The Prisoner: (gives it a thought) I don't know.
The Devil: Tell me what you wrote so far.
The Prisoner: That's not going to happen.
The Devil: Come on, I can help you.
The Prisoner: I think you've helped enough.
(Silence)
The Devil: It was your fault you know.
The Prisoner: Was it?
The Devil: What made you think you could get away with it?
The Prisoner: (angrily) You did! You literally told me that I could do it without getting caught.
The Devil: Yeah, but I didn't do anything, did I?
The Prisoner: (fed up) I'm not going to have the same conversation again.
(Silence)
The Devil: You don't have to kill yourself though.
The Prisoner: That's my decision, not yours.
The Devil: (sarcastically) Oh now you start thinking for yourself.
The Prisoner: It's about time.
The Devil: Listen, I'm telling you as a friend...
The Prisoner: Oh, you're my friend now!
The Devil: Yes, I am. I always have been, and you can't deny that.
The Prisoner: Yeah, well, that's exactly the problem. I wish it wasn't like that, I wish you weren't my friend.
The Devil: There's no need to be harsh...I'm just doing my job. Plus, you chose to be my friend, and you can't deny that as well!
(The Prisoner is silent)
The Prisoner: (moved) I had to.
The Devil: Had to?
The Prisoner: I had to choose to be your friend.
The Devil: (sympathetic) I know.
(Silence)
I think what you did was brave. By choosing to be my friend, you chose to stand up for yourself. You knew the consequences...you knew you'd end up here...but you did it anyway. I understand that. I did that too. I was the first to do it actually.
The Prisoner: Do you regret it?
The Devil: No, do you regret what you did?
The Prisoner: No. I regret our first meeting.
The Devil: I remember precisely that you enjoyed it, and you can't deny that!
The Prisoner: (simultaneously) and I can't deny that... Yeah yeah I can't fucking deny it. I was a kid, a little kid who didn't know better. I thought that vengeance would satisfy me. (Beat) He hurt me... He hurt me in so many ways. He would come home and start beating the living crap out of me for no reason. I had to be your friend so you could protect me from him!
The Devil: And I stood by your side since that day.
The Prisoner: You did.
The Devil: And I have never let you down, have I?
The Prisoner: No, you haven't.
The Devil: Then why are you letting me down now?
The Prisoner: How am I letting you down? I'm going to kill myself. Isn't that the worst of sins? If anything, you should be proud of me.
The Devil: You're giving up! How could I be proud of you?
The Prisoner: I can't live here. I won't take it, I'll go mad.
The Devil: You're overreacting.
The Prisoner: They're putting me here for 45 years!
The Devil: (disbelief) 45 Years!
The Prisoner: Yes, 45 years!
The Devil: But what you did wasn't a crime, those people deserved what you did to them, the first three at least.
The Prisoner: Well, they don't see it that way.
(Beat)
The Devil: Come on, this place isn't bad. You'll get used to it.
The Prisoner: There are dumpsters who are better than this shithole.
The Devil: It's really not that bad.
The Prisoner: It's cold. Everything here is cold. The walls, the floor, the bed, even the food is fucking cold. You know me, I'm not a fan of the cold. I'd rather be in hell where warmth is guaranteed.
The Devil: Trust me you don't.
The Prisoner: I don't have choice, which is okay. I'm used to being forced into decisions. It's my life story.
The Devil: Is that what you have written down, your story?
The Prisoner: No, it's actually a song. My mom used to sing it to me after every beating. She'd be beaten up too by that point. It made me feel safe and free...free of the pain.
The Devil: How does it go?
(The Prisoner is taken away by his request.)
The Prisoner: You want to hear the song?
The Devil: Yes. What’s wrong with that?
The Prisoner: Nothing. I just… I never thought you’d like music.
The Devil: Hey, I was an integral part of every great piece of literature and art that ever existed. I influenced them all. I even managed to get some stuff dedicated to me. Just ask Jagger.
The Prisoner: (Finally getting it) No! Sympathy for The Devil! I always assumed he was just coked out of his mind when he wrote that song.
The Devil: He was, Richards was tripping that night too. But lucky for me, they are brilliant musicians. It’s actually my favorite song.
The Prisoner: I don’t blame you… It’s a great song. (He looks down at the paper) This is my favorite song too, you know. (Beat) I won’t sing the whole song for you; I don’t think it’s appropriate in these circumstances. I’ll sing my favorite part though.
The Devil: I’ll take that.
(The Prisoner gets ready to sing. When he sings, he is a little stuttery in the beginning, but he gets into it towards the end.)
The Prisoner: Just hang on, hang on to the vine
Stay on, soon you'll be divine
If you start to cry, look up to the sky
Something's coming up ahead
To turn your tears to dew instead
(Silence)
The Devil: Why did you write it down?
The Prisoner: (as he folds the paper into a plane) To set myself free.
The Devil: I understand.
(The Prisoner goes to the window upstage with the paper plane in his hand. He barely sticks his hand outside between the bars, throws the paper plane out of the window. He kneels towards the candle to blow it out. He is interrupted by The Devil.)
The Devil: Are you sure you want to do this?
(beat)
The Prisoner: Yes, I’m sure.
(The Prisoner blows the candle. It is pitch black)
(End of play)
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