Extracts from Little Forks and The Dark Twin

Rebecca Sharp's typewriter

Rebecca Sharp is hard at work on the scripts for Little Forks and The Dark Twin, which she’ll be presenting at our up and coming Rehearsal Room at the end of October.

She’s kindly sent us some exclusive extracts of the work to give a flavour of what to expect – enjoy!

Little Forks extract:
I want to find the Homestead but I want to find it first. I have to lose Hecate. I send her off to look for pinecones, then I dash between the trees and out of sight.

I keep running, lightly, holding my breath, until I think I’ve come to the Clearing. I stop and spin round, then pounce a little way up the slope to look down.

Tha mi a’ faicinn an fhèidh –
I see the deer.

My first thought is my knife, feel it keen in my pocket. I creep towards the body; sweetly still, dead still. I imagine it fell but since then has been got-at.

I look closer, the neck wound is a door ajar and I so badly want in.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but I feel the shift – geometry sawn up and rolled out over pine needles, my knife at home in its purpose. My pulse darts through me and now has somewhere to go. A separation – but it still isn’t telling me.

Carson a tha thu a’ toirt orm seo a dhèanamh?
Carson a dh’innis thu na sgeulachdan dhomh?

I don’t hear Hec until she’s already stopped and staring. Not a house.

The eyes are frozen windows, it can’t give any more of itself away. I know I have to dig in. Is that what I have to do?

A kick and a few incisions, the crunching sound is sadly small.

The Dark Twin extract:

I had fire.

I remember; I did have it.

I met Marion, I moved;
I let something go.
Or something left.

No – I moved, something was left;
I met Marion.

No – something stopped, as in ended;
I met…

No.

I had fire.

55 degrees, 52 minutes, 21.65 seconds North,
by 4 degrees, 18 minutes, 10.56 seconds West.