NEITHER
DUST, NOR SHADOW: ALWAYS
By GAVARRE BENJAMIN
©
INDAUTOR
Cd. De México
© BENJAMÍN GAVARRE
SILVA
Contact:
bengavarre@gmail.com
gavarreunam@gmail.com
GENRE:
Gothic Horror / Historical Drama
SETTING:
Late 18th Century (New Spain)
LOCATION:
A Baroque palace in the heart of Mexico City.
DRAMATIS
PERSONAE
DOÑA
LEONOR DE NAVARRA (50s): The widowed Marchioness.
A woman of marble and shadow. Her religious fervor is a fortress built to
contain a sin from her youth.
LUCRECIA
(19): Her daughter. Initially a creature of silk and light, she becomes an
"empty vessel" for the Knight's dark influence.
CÉSAR
(21): Her son. Arrogant, volatile, and desperate for an authority he cannot
truly claim. A bastard prince unaware of his own hollow bloodline.
THE
DUKE OF CÓRDOBA (30s): A pragmatist and skeptic. He
represents the Enlightenment arriving too late to a house ruled by ancient
ghosts.
PETRA
(40s): A servant of mixed heritage. Her prayers in Nahuatl and Spanish are the
house’s only—and failing—defense.
THE
KNIGHT OF ALARCÓN (The Portrait): An entity of oil
and malice. He is not just a painting; he is a predator waiting for the blood
to come home.
ACT
I: THE ARRIVAL
SCENE
1
INT.
THE PALACE - MAIN HALL - DAY
A
monumental but somber hall. Heavy tapestries shroud the stone windows, allowing
only golden, dust-laden threads of light to seep in. The smell of incense and
dampness is almost palpable. A patch of shadow above the fireplace marks where
the painting will hang. Several servants, beaded with sweat and an instinctive
dread, finish hoisting a colossal canvas covered in a red, dusty velvet that
looks like dried blood. CÉSAR watches, glass
in hand. His elegance is rigid, nervous.
CÉSAR
Another
anonymous gift? This house is becoming a warehouse for charities, Mother. If
the sender seeks LUCRECIA’s favor, he should have sent flowers, not this
bundle that reeks of a crypt. I formally object to it hanging here.
DOÑA
LEONOR does not look at him. Her fingers, entwined
in a silver rosary, are white from the pressure.
LEONOR
(A
voice like ash) Call your sister, CÉSAR.
PETRA
peeks from the shadows of a corridor. She does not enter the room, but lingers
at the threshold, making a sign of protection with her fingers.
PETRA
Señora...
the men say the painting weighs more than it should. They say the air turns
cold at its touch. It is no good omen to hang the unknown in the heart of the
home.
CÉSAR
(Irritated,
masking a shiver) Kitchen gossip! The weight is in
the frame, and the cold is but the stone of this hall. Elena, stop sowing weeds
and find my sister.
LUCRECIA
enters. Her light silk dress is the only bright thing in the room. She
approaches the painting with a curiosity bordering on hypnosis.
LUCRECIA
It
seems to... pulse. Is it for me, Mother?
CÉSAR,
in a fit of arrogance, yanks the velvet. The cloth hits the floor with a heavy
whisper.
SCENE
2
THE
PAINTING.
The
Knight of Alarcón. A man of frigid beauty. His dark eyes have an impossible
depth, as if the oil were stagnant water. His smile is a mere fold of contempt.
LUCRECIA
(In
a whisper) He was waiting for me.
CÉSAR
(Trying
to laugh) It is... a magnificent piece. Look at that
composure. Some Spanish noble wished to remind us of our lineage. Elena, why
that face of horror? It is but paint and oil.
PETRA
(Terrified)
His eyes... My lady, the knight blinked. I swear it by the Virgin.
CÉSAR
A
trick of the light, woman. It is called chiaroscuro. Designed to deceive simple
eyes. But...
He
stops. LEONOR is a statue of salt. Her rosary
snaps, and the wooden beads clatter to the floor like hail.
LEONOR
(Voiceless)
Take it down. To the cellar. Cover it with ash.
CÉSAR
Absolutely
not! It is the finest ornament this hall has seen. LUCRECIA, tell us:
does this hidalgo from Alarcón frighten you?
LUCRECIA
(Eyes
fixed on the canvas) No. He does not frighten me. He recognizes me.
ACT
II: THE INFECTION
SCENE
3
INT.
MAIN HALL - NIGHT
Moonlight
pours through the skylight. The Knight looks younger, more alive under the
silver glow. PETRA enters to extinguish the
candles. She walks pressed against the opposite wall. Upon reaching the
painting, she is stopped by an invisible force. From her perspective, the
Knight seems to have slightly tilted his head toward her.
PETRA
(Whispering
in Nahuatl and Spanish) In tloque in nahuaque... Blood
of Christ... begone, shadow. Return to your land of oil.
Suddenly,
a crack: the sound of a wooden frame groaning under enormous pressure.
PETRA flees, dropping the candle snuffer.
SCENE
4
INT.
MAIN HALL - ANOTHER NIGHT
LUCRECIA
stands before the painting. She wears her nightgown, her hair undone like a
dark cataract. Her face is a mask of absolute devotion. She does not speak. She
tilts her head, listening to a whisper the audience cannot hear. Slowly, she
leans in and rests her cheek against the cold, painted face of the Knight. She
reaches out and touches the Knight’s painted lips. As she withdraws her
fingers, they are stained with a shimmering black oil.
LUCRECIA brings her fingers to her mouth, tasting the oil as if it
were a sacrament.
LUCRECIA
(A
whisper that curdles the blood) — Always.
SCENE
5
INT.
LIBRARY - DAY
CÉSAR
and the DUKE OF CÓRDOBA. CÉSAR drinks with anxiety.
DUKE
OF CÓRDOBA
It
is strange, CÉSAR. Your sister has declined every invitation. They say
she spends her hours conversing with a wall in the hall.
CÉSAR
(Aggressive)
Women’s fancies. She is fascinated by that painting. She claims the Knight
tells her stories of the court... details she couldn't possibly know. Things
about... secret executions and stained beds.
LUCRECIA
appears in the doorway. Her paleness is cadaverous.
LUCRECIA
Fire
does not burn the truth, Duke. It only purifies it.
CÉSAR
LUCRECIA,
return to your chambers.
LUCRECIA
(Walking
toward him with an unnatural slowness) He has
told me about you, "brother." He says the name Navarra is too large
for you. He says the roots of this house are not of nobility, but of
betrayal... and that the blood in your veins is not the same as the man who
died in that bed.
CÉSAR
(Pale
with rage) Silence, you madwoman!
LUCRECIA
(Close
to his ear, cold) You tremble, CÉSAR. Is it
fear... or does the bastard’s instinct recognize the voice of its true master?
ACT
III: THE SACRIFICE
SCENE
6
INT.
THE PORTRAIT HALL - NIGHT
CÉSAR
enters with a torch and a dagger.
CÉSAR
(Screaming
at the painting) Out! Stop poisoning the air! If you are a
man, fight; if you are a demon, burn!
He
lunges. As the steel is about to rip the canvas, the torch flame turns blue and
dies. Only moonlight remains. CÉSAR’s shadow on the
wall begins to move on its own. The shadow of the Knight’s hand emerges from
the frame and encircles the neck of CÉSAR’s shadow. In the real
world, CÉSAR clutches his throat. His feet rise off the ground.
No screams, only the sound of bones snapping under invisible weight. LUCRECIA
appears, watching with terrifying peace.
LUCRECIA
He
says that steel cannot wound one who is already eternal, CÉSAR. Only
blood can seal the pact.
CÉSAR
falls dead.
SCENE
7
INT.
HALL - DAWN
CÉSAR’s
corpse is at the table. LEONOR sobs in terror.
LEONOR
It
is the payment. He has come for what is his. CÉSAR was his reflection...
the fruit of a sin I committed in Alarcón.
Enter
LUCRECIA. She wears a dark, masculine suit of an old cut. Her posture
is martial; her voice is now a dry, hollow echo.
LUCRECIA
(With
the cadence of 17th-century nobility) Do you
weep for the straw the wind carries away, Leonor?
LEONOR
(Terrified)
You are not my daughter!
LUCRECIA
Your
daughter was an empty vessel. I have merely filled it.
SCENE
8
THE
CLIMAX.
LUCRECIA
lunges at the Duke with unnatural speed. She emits a cold hiss. The servants
flee. LEONOR stands and draws a dagger. She
walks toward the painting.
LEONOR
To
me! Look at me, shadow of my disgrace! I was the one who broke the vow. Take
the root, and leave the fruit!
Leonor
drives the dagger into her chest. Her blood splashes onto the Knight’s face.
LUCRECIA collapses like a marionette. The painting begins to drink
the blood; the red turns black, and the Knight’s face sinks back into the
darkness of the oil.
LEONOR
(Dying,
reciting the exorcism) It is corpse... it is shadow...
it is dust... it is nothing!
LUCRECIA
/ KNIGHT
(A
dual, overlapping whisper) No, Leonor. It is oil... it is
flesh... it is shadow... it is always.
EPILOGUE
INT.
THE PORTRAIT HALL - SIX MONTHS LATER
A
gold-framed mirror occupies the place of the painting.
LUCRECIA and the DUKE stand before it.
DUKE
OF CÓRDOBA
The
nightmare has passed, LUCRECIA. Fire consumed that tainted canvas. At
last, we can live.
LUCRECIA
(With
a perfect, frigid smile) You are right, Duke. Fire burns
the canvas... but blood... blood always finds its way home.
LUCRECIA
leaves. The Duke remains, adjusting his collar. In the mirror, his reflection
begins to pale. Behind him, in the reflection of the empty wall, the Knight’s
eyes open within a black stain.
VOICE
OVER
(A
double whisper) — Welcome to the family.
SLOW CURTAIN.
