A Deal With Death: A One Act Play

CHARACTERS

Carter: A talented young playwright with big ambitions but relatively few friends, all he wants is his big break.

He is indecisive and prone to overthinking, often missing out on life.

Death: An anthropomorphized representation of death, he or she is confident, manipulative, and charismatic.

Chelsea: Always empathetic and kind-hearted, she recognizes not only Carter’s talent, but his loneliness as well.

She is the closest prospect Carter has had for romantic love in a long time.

Scene:

Carter’s study.

Time:

Evening; present-day

CARTER’s study is furnished with a writing desk, chair, and a couple of armchairs. CARTER sits at the desk, writing furiously. He holds up the sheet of paper he’s just been writing on.

CARTER: (reading) “If I could tell you how I feel, I would. But every time I see you, my mind goes blank and words can’t express it anymore. Believe me, I wish I could just pour out everything. I wish I could somehow make you see, but I’m trapped…”

(CARTER crosses out a word and replaces it.)

CARTER: No, “paralyzed with the fear that you won’t know what I mean.”

CARTER’s cell phone RINGS, so he fishes it out of his pocket, looks at the number calling, and answers quickly.

CARTER: (into phone) Hello? Yes, this is him. Thank you. Oh….No, no, I understand. Thank you for calling. Good-bye.

CARTER angrily slams the phone against his desk.

DEATH: (off-stage) Bad news?

CARTER: Go away.

DEATH enters and leans casually against the door frame.

DEATH: You don’t really mean that.

CARTER: Yes, I do. Please leave.

DEATH: Now, Carter, you know you can’t say that to me. What was the phone call about?

CARTER: They rejected my script. No thanks to you.

DEATH: Excuse me? Are you really in a position to blame me?

CARTER: You said you would make this easier. You said you’d get me a Broadway debut —

DEATH: You seem to be forgetting something.

CARTER looks down, silent.

DEATH: I promised I’d get you everything you want, Carter. And you’ll get it all, in time. But you have to come through on your end of the bargain, too.

CARTER: I can’t do that.

DEATH: Hmm, that’s not what we agreed. Your part of the deal was —

CARTER: I know what it was.

DEATH: And…?

CARTER: I’ve made the decision not to.

DEATH: You? You made the decision?

CARTER: You left me out to dry! That was my third rejection call this week. You haven’t helped me at all, so why should I help you?

DEATH: That’s not how this works.

CARTER: Find someone else.

CARTER goes back to writing. DEATH watches him for a few moments and smirks, impressed by his sudden nerve. The cell phone RINGS again. CARTER glances at DEATH and answers it.

CARTER: Hello? Yes, I — What? Really? That’s great! Thank you! I’ll talk to you then. Thanks again.

CARTER hangs up, smiling, when he remembers that DEATH is still in the room.

DEATH: Good news?

CARTER: (realizing) Oh…no.

DEATH: Someone wants your script?

CARTER: You tricked me!

DEATH: I was just holding up my end of the bargain. You can’t fault me for that.

CARTER: Don’t do this to me.

DEATH: I thought this was what you wanted.

CARTER: Not like this. I changed my mind.

DEATH: Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that now.

CARTER: What do you want from me?

CHELSEA: (off-stage) Carter? Are you home?

DEATH: Who’s that?

CARTER: (to DEATH) Please, get out of here.

CHELSEA: Carter?

CARTER: (to CHELSEA) I’m here!

(to DEATH) Please!

DEATH moves upstage into the shadows, unnoticed by CHELSEA when she enters.

CARTER: Chelsea!

CHELSEA: Hi! I was in the neighborhood so I thought I’d stop by. I hope that’s okay.

CARTER: That’s fine. I mean, it’s great. It’s great to see you.

CHELSEA: Good to see you, too. I hope I’m not disturbing your writing.

CARTER: No, not at all. I was taking a break anyway.

CHELSEA: That doesn’t sound like you.

CARTER: What do you mean?

CHELSEA: Taking a break. Every time I’ve seen you, you’re always scribbling away.

CARTER: Well, you know how it is. Have to pay the bills, and writing pays the bills, so…

(a beat)

I’m sorry, do you want to sit down?

CHELSEA: Sure.

CARTER gestures CHELSEA toward the armchairs and they sit down.

CARTER: So what were you doing?

CHELSEA: What?

CARTER: You said you were in the neighborhood.

CHELSEA: Yeah, I was gonna grocery shopping. Thought I’d try healthy cooking for once, instead of yet another frozen dinner. There’s this new, all-organic store I’ve been wanting to try around the corner —

CARTER: You don’t want to go there. Everything’s overpriced, and half of it’s not even organic.

CHELSEA: I didn’t know that.

CARTER: You’ll want to go to the farmer’s market. It’s a couple of blocks away, but it’s all fresh, and pretty cheap, too.

CHELSEA: I’ll have to check that out. Thanks, Carter.

CARTER: You’re welcome.

CHELSEA: I saw your play the other day.

CARTER: You — you did?

CHELSEA: It was great.

CARTER: (sheepishly) I don’t know about that. I mean, it’s off-off-Broadway so there’s practically no budget and it was terribly miscast —

CHELSEA: It was incredible.

CARTER: Thanks.

CHELSEA: I don’t understand why more of your work hasn’t been produced. You’re such a talented writer.

CARTER: I actually just got a call from a Broadway director. He wants to direct one of my plays.

CHELSEA: Carter, that’s wonderful!

CARTER: It’s not a big deal.

CHELSEA: Yes, it is. You deserve this. Make sure you get me a ticket. I want to be in the front row of your first show on Broadway.

CARTER: Thanks, I’ll be sure to do that.

CHELSEA: Well, I should be going. Groceries to buy.

CARTER: Right, right.

CHELSEA: Do you want to come along?

CARTER: Come shopping with you?

CHELSEA: You could show me around the farmer’s market. Unless you’re too busy…

CARTER: No, that would be great! I’d love to come.

CHELSEA: Great! I’ll wait downstairs then?

CARTER: Sure.

CHELSEA exits. CARTER grabs his jacket and gets ready to follow her when DEATH steps forward.

DEATH: She seems nice.

CARTER: She is. She’s…amazing. She’s been nothing but kind to me since I moved here. Nobody’s supported me like that before.

DEATH: You like her.

CARTER: I do.

CARTER crosses to the door.

DEATH: Where do you think you’re going?

CARTER: Out with Chelsea…?

DEATH: No, no, no. We have some business to discuss.

CARTER: Can’t it wait?

DEATH: I’m afraid not. Things have just become very interesting.

CARTER: Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I really think you should leave now.

DEATH: That’s not your choice.

CARTER: I don’t understand.

DEATH: You got something you want. Your play is being produced. As per our agreement, now I get something I want.

CARTER: (with gradual realization) No.

DEATH: I want her.

CARTER: (desperately) Please, no.

DEATH: Carter, listen.

CARTER: No!

DEATH: You knew what you were getting into. People don’t enter into contracts with me without considering all the alternatives.

CARTER: I was desperate, I was —

DEATH: You were hungry, you were poor, you were homeless — I’ve heard it all before. The facts are: you owe me a life.

CARTER: Not hers. Please. Not hers.

DEATH: Carter, do you know who I met yesterday? A seven-year-old girl. Leukemia. She had some brushes with me in the past, but she fought me off. It wasn’t her day yet. But when it was, she took her last shaking breath, and when I finally held that little girl in my arms, it was all over.

CARTER: Why are you telling me this?

DEATH: That little girl didn’t get a choice. She met with me after pain and suffering and years of sickness. Most people don’t get to choose when they meet me. I’m offering you a choice now.

CARTER: Oh yeah? And what choice is that?

DEATH: She comes with me now. Painlessly. Quietly. Or she comes with me years from now. Could be in a horrific car accident. Could be in a brutal murder. I can’t say for sure.

CARTER: Stop.

DEATH: Listen to what I’m giving you.

CARTER: Stop! Take me instead.

(A beat.)

DEATH: What?

CARTER: You heard me. Take me instead of her.

DEATH: Think about what you’re saying, Carter. That phone call today — that was just the beginning. Television. Film. Best-selling novel. I can get you there. I can make those dreams a reality. All I’m asking is for a little help.

CARTER: All you’re asking is for me to sell out the person I care about the most!

DEATH: There will be others. I can make sure of that. This girl, this Chelsea…How well do you even know her?

CARTER: Enough to know I want to be with her.

DEATH: Do you think she feels the same way about you? I saw her, Carter. She doesn’t love you. She feels sorry for you.

CARTER: You’re wrong.

DEATH: She’s just being nice to you because you’re all alone and she feels sorry for you. Is she worth it? Is someone who would treat you like that worth everything? I’m not trying to tell you what to do. A life is a life — it doesn’t make any difference to me if it’s her or you. But I just want you to think about what you’d be giving up.

CARTER: (in tears) That’s not fair.

DEATH: You know they say life’s not fair? Well, death’s not fair either. And if you make a deal with Death, you have to accept that.

CARTER walks to the door.

CARTER: Chelsea? Can you come up here? There’s…someone I want you to meet.

DEATH grins.

END