A Deal with the Devil
A One-Act Comedy
by GAVARRE B
Characters
Eleanor Ainsworth: A playwright in her 30s, sharp and weary.
Nick: A minor devil, impeccably dressed but increasingly petulant.
William Shakespeare: The Mentor, wise and observant.
Brynhild: A Valkyrie, timeless and somewhat bored.
Lady Beatrice: A sharp-tongued noblewoman.
Professor Davies: A passionate, sleep-deprived academic.
Students: Kind-hearted undergraduates.
SCENE 1
Setting: A lonely clearing in the woods. Late afternoon.
ELEANOR: (Alone, frustrated) If I write the truth, they call me a witch. If I stay silent, I feel as though I am suffocating. Is there no middle ground for a woman who simply wishes to tell a story?
NICK: (Appearing from the shadows) The middle ground is for the mediocre, my dear Eleanor. I offer the extremes: absolute glory or the silence of oblivion.
ELEANOR: (Startled) Heavens! Who are you? A hunter who has lost his way?
NICK: Let us say I am a facilitator. I see you struggle to find the words. I have sacks full of them. Pure gold in every phrase. I only need you to accept my company. A simple handshake, and you shall be the envy of London.
ELEANOR: Only a handshake? It seems a very low price for something so grand.
NICK: I simply trust in your talent... and that you will know how to thank me later.
(They shake hands. A cold wind stirs the trees.)
ELEANOR: What a strange sensation... as if a swarm of bees were whispering in my ear.
NICK: Those are not bees, Eleanor. That is your new success whispering to you.
SCENE 2
Setting: Shakespeare’s study. Books and clutter everywhere.
SHAKESPEARE: So, you have invited a demon to your writing desk. Eleanor, the muses are fickle, but at least they are honest. This Nick... he is only selling you glass beads and mirrors.
ELEANOR: But it works, Will! Lady Beatrice laughed at my wit. I have never been witty! She looked at me as if I were someone of importance.
SHAKESPEARE: She laughed at a shadow, not at you. Listen well: those voices that seem so brilliant now will soon become noise. They will tell you that you are nothing without them, that you are small, that no one will love you if you return to being yourself. The devil’s trick is not to take you to hell, but to convince you that you are already there.
BRYNHILD: (Stepping toward the audience, an aside) Look at them. So small, playing with forces they do not understand. They believe themselves masters of their fate, yet they are but leaves blown by the wind of a bored demon.
SCENE 3
Setting: A crowded tavern.
NICK: (Whispering feverishly in Eleanor’s ear) Now! Tell her that her lineage is older than time itself! Tell her that her grace puts the angels to shame! Quick, before she leaves!
ELEANOR: (To Lady Beatrice) My Lady... your lineage... er... is very old. Very old indeed.
LADY BEATRICE: (Frowning) Of course it is, Eleanor. Is something wrong? You sound like a parrot repeating a lesson it does not understand. You are acting strange; I prefer it when you complain about how difficult it is to write. At least then you are amusing.
NICK: (Furious) Clumsy girl! You are ruining it! Spill the wine! Do something dramatic!
ELEANOR: (Out loud) Will you be quiet!
LADY BEATRICE: I beg your pardon?
ELEANOR: No... not you, My Lady. A... a stray thought was biting at me.
SCENE 4
Setting: Shakespeare’s study. Nick is in a corner, trying to start a small fire with his fingers that keeps going out.
NICK: This is an outrage! I have a reputation! No one ignores me like this!
SHAKESPEARE: Look at him, Eleanor. Look closely. Is this what you feared? If you withdraw your attention, he becomes nothing. He is like a moth seeking a flame that does not belong to him.
ELEANOR: You promised the ideas would flow, Nick. But you have given me nothing but noise. My own words, though they be poor and walk with a limp, are better than your silences dressed in silk.
NICK: You will be alone! No one will read your plays! You will be a speck of dust in history!
ELEANOR: Perhaps. But it will be my dust. Nick, leave. You bore me.
NICK: (Offended) I bore you? I am the bringer of temptation! I am the—!
SHAKESPEARE: You are a nuisance, Nick. Back to your corner. There is no contract left when the client discovers the product is a sham.
(Nick tries to vanish with a grand explosion, but only a bit of grey smoke and a foul smell emerge. He vanishes with a snarl.)
ELEANOR: Will... I can still hear his voice. Very faintly. Telling me I am worthless.
SHAKESPEARE: It will always be there, Eleanor. In a corner of your mind. The difference is that now you know it is only a noise, like the creaking of old wood. You hear it, but you do not heed it.
SCENE 5
Setting: The same study. The light shifts to an ethereal atmosphere.
BRYNHILD: (Approaching Shakespeare) The dream is over, poet. The man who imagines us is about to wake.
SHAKESPEARE: (Nodding) It was a fine performance. At least this time, sanity won by a hair.
BRYNHILD: (To the audience) Do not search for demons in the woods or Valkyries in the clouds. It is all in here (pointing to her forehead). The voices of fear will always speak to you; they will tell you to cancel your journey, that your verse is weak, that your love is not enough. The secret is not to make the voices fall silent... but to learn to walk while they scream.
SHAKESPEARE: (To the audience, smiling) And if the noise becomes too loud... remember that even the devil feels ridiculous when no one pays him any mind.
SCENE 6
Setting: A modern university classroom.
(Professor Davies stands with a lost gaze and outstretched arms. The students pack their things, looking at him with a mix of affection and concern.)
PROFESSOR DAVIES: (In a whisper) ...because even the devil falls silent when you stop believing in him. Do you see? Eleanor understood. She cast him out of her head!
STUDENT 1: (Approaching slowly) Professor... class ended ten minutes ago. Are you alright?
PROFESSOR DAVIES: (Blinking, returning to reality) Eh? Oh, yes... yes. It’s just... I was there. In Will’s study. Eleanor was so frightened, but she did it. She hung up the phone on the abyss!
STUDENT 2: (Gently) Professor, we saw you this morning by the entrance. You were... very animated, talking to the bust of Shakespeare. You were explaining something about publishing contracts to it.
PROFESSOR DAVIES: (A bit embarrassed) You saw me? Well, the statue has a very... analytical gaze. It looks as though it’s judging your adjectives.
STUDENT 1: (Placing a hand on his shoulder) We know this semester has been hard, what with the thesis and the hours in the library. We love your passion, really, but we’re worried you’ll end up arguing with the gargoyles in the hallway.
STUDENT 2: Come on, let's go. We'll walk you to the parking lot. I'll buy you a tea—something without caffeine, I think you’ve had enough.
PROFESSOR DAVIES: (Allowing himself to be led, but lighting up again for a moment) It’s just so real! The struggle for one's own voice! It’s not just Eleanor! It’s everyone’s struggle! It’s the rage of Marlowe! The darkness of Thomas Kyd!
(The students lead him gently toward the exit as he begins to call out names into the air, smiling with absolute devotion.)
PROFESSOR DAVIES: Christopher Marlowe, who died in a tavern because he wouldn't hold his tongue! Ben Jonson and his iron pride! Thomas Kyd! Shakespeare, the great observer! They aren't just names in a book, boys! They are the voices telling us to keep going!
STUDENT 1: (Smiling) Yes, Professor, all of them. Come on, easy now...
PROFESSOR DAVIES: (In the distance, leaving the room) Do not listen to the devil in the hose! Write your own verses! Even if they limp! Especially if they limp!
(Their voices fade down the hallway. The room is empty. For a moment, a shadow resembling an Elizabethan doublet seems to cross the back of the room, followed by a metallic glint like that of armor. Silence. End of Play.)
