by Henry, ©2025
(Aug. 30, 2025) — As the house lights dim, the curtain rises to an empty stage dimly lit. The first actor, wearing a white robe, walks from stage right to stage left, stops, turns to the audience and stands still, followed by the second actor who repeats the process from stage left. This entering the stage stops when the line stretches the width of the stage. There is no music, only silence. The actors stand silent for five minutes when another actor, this one in a black robe, enters from stage left, walks in front of the line to the center of the stage, stops and turns to face the audience.
“Hello, one and all. Interesting, is it not? The silence, yet each of these players, male and female alike, has a story to tell, or else lines to recite. Some stories may be embellished, some not. Some lines will be recited verbatim, some not. Either way, mistakes, maybe even untruths, may be made, maybe even on purpose; who knows?”
At this point, a spotlight blinks above those on the right of the stage, goes out, and then starts on the left, then all the spotlights blink on and off, up and down the line of actors on the stage and then off.
Silence.
A minute later the spotlights above the audience blink on and off, randomly, for three minutes, and then off.
Silence.
And then the spotlight above the black robe turns on.
“So maybe silence isn’t so golden, after all. Put in its proper context, silence can speak volumes. What we have here is a story that needs to be told, needs to be screamed in every ear everywhere, but all we hear is silence, and plenty of it. Too much silence, matter of fact. Silence is like a cancer: starts small and spreads. First one person doesn’t say anything, and then a second person follows and before any of us knows it, no one is saying a single word. Wait for it: one minute of silence.”
One minute goes by. The stage lights brighten as the women on the stage reach into their robes to a pull out a baby doll wrapped in white cloth and place it in the center of the stage set as a bonfire.
“Shocking? No, those mothers didn’t voluntarily place their babies in the fire; those babies and young children were stolen from them by a superior force of arms and an inferior philosophy, a philosophy as warped and devoid of empathy as a serial killer towards his victims.”
At this point red cellophane strips are raised from the bonfire while the line of white robes falls upon their knees with hands waving in the air in silence.
And then actors, dressed as cameras, enter from every entrance in the auditorium, running down the aisles to converge on the bonfire.
“So, what’s the point of the cameras if nobody sees the film? We saw the atrocity happen; we’re witnesses. The buildings of Dachau and Treblinka still stand as silent witnesses; will this, too, what we just witnessed, remain silent? So, how about it, Netanyahu, how about releasing the footage of what went down on October 7th so the rest of the world can know what we know, or will it be yet more silence, more, what?”
The stage lights dim as the actors, once again, form the original line and then step forward to the front of the stage, to the very edge, in front of the curtain as it is lowered and the house lights brighten. They just stand there in silence.
FINI