Scene 6

During this final scene, the chorus will begin with the Hunger Hum and light

rhythmic percussion. The chorus will build to a pounding, screaming frenzy as the

movement of the murder approaches and will then degenerate into atonal mass of

slow pitch humming accompanied by only an occasional strike of a bell or

triangle.

N: At last she throws her last pearl into the sea. The pearl falls softly onto the

Rippled water and seems to float like a tiny ship before the jaws of the ocean open

Wide and devour the pearl noiselessly. And as the pearl vanishes forever from

view, she is transformed into a deer, a noble buck with power and strength. She

swiftly glides away, leaving the merchant and his boat behind her forever. She

passes along the shore and up the dry, grassy hillsides towards her father’s palace for the final time.

(Chorus makes strange rubbing noises.)

E: The hunger, the hunger.

Like sawblades ripping though my loins,

Craving, devouring, consuming, desiring.

Ah! What fir’y pain within!

The hunger, the hunger.

There must be something here to eat,

Alas, the merchant’s gold is spent.

There’s nought but moldy scraps of bread of bread –

These must suffice – but what is this?

A noble stag ascends the hill

I’m sure it is some cruel illusion.

But no, it comes on steady tread

Straight towards the house.

My knife – my knife!

(pause as he searches and Chorus begins a steady crescendo for sound.)

Ah, here it is, within my grasp

My glistening razor is prepared

To sacrifice this gentle beast

In order to devour the feast

Of sweet, red flesh – my fortune’s made!

(chorus adds voices ascending wordlessly, atonal and errie.)

it stalks straight towards my hungry blade!

I’ll hide beside this done and wait

For it to pass within my reach

N: he stands, half hidden as the stag draws near. He raises the knife and grips it tight. His knuckles whiten around the handle – tight with hope, tight with hunger. And his daughter crosses the threshold she cries Poseidon’s name.

Maximum choral frenzy with percussion and siging here.

- the knife slices through the air and meets its mark – (HUGE cymbal crash!)

The music degenerates into a low atonal wail.

- her words pour out through a crimson stream which rushes from her

throat. She falls and her father drops his knife in terror. He no longer sees the deer.

He no longer sees an object falls beside her, her lifeblood stains his flesh, as he pleads with the gods and begs her forgiveness – but all too late. The lifeless body in his arms

Gives no response.

He cradles his child, her limp, blooddrenched corpse in his arms,

Rocking back and forth. At times he almost seems to sing to it. At times he cries

out, wailing screaming. At times his sobs are merely murmers which the wind

carries off, down the path towards the village. And in time the knowledge of his

crime spreads throughout the land.

Narrator strikes the drum 5 times, the fifth beat coincides with the beginning of the

Chorus.

Chorus (in unison):

Behold this horror, before our eyes:

A father, driven mad by his desires

His daughter, slaughtered by his hand,

A mutilated corpse rots in the grove:

Laid waste, the grove has dried to tinder.

And we, the people of this land,

Are bound in fear. We live in dread,

Lest nest the coming summer’s storm,

Unleash the bolt that lights the flame,

The final flame consuming all.

Our village now, is filled with death,

The children starve, their corpses clog

The streets and paths like splintered logs

The drought and heat are merciless,

And when there’s rain, it falls as floods.

This is Cere’s heartless vengence,

For not one man alone shall bear the pain,

Through by his word the trees were slain,

We served his aims, or stood in silent guilt,

And so we all must bear the blame.

And what is there for us to do?

We learn too late, or not at all,

Our best intents bear evil too,

And so upon us Guilt doth fall.

But let us each restrain desire,

To spare us from the final fire.

Chorus returns to atonal wailings with clenched teeth, sobbings, and other sounds

Of delerium which continue to the end of the Narrator’s monologue.

N: The few survivors in the town below attempt to wrest her body from him.

But he clings to her. His delerium grows, but his voice fades away to a parched,

Mournful whisper. At last he coils himself in a corner, wrapping his arms about

Himself, now rocking his body back and forth, back and forth in his corner. And

Through his ravings, his hunger returns. He stares into the air in front of his. He

Stares at his hands, still smeared with blood. He stares at his flesh, at his own flesh.

And he lifts his right arm to his lips, he presses his tongue against his skin, as if to

Taste it and suddenly, violently tears the flesh with his teeth, clear down to the bone.

He tears away the skin, the tendons, the veins. The blood flows freely from his arm,

Just above his elbow. Yet he seems not even to notice. He opens his mouth wide in

A muted gurgle of agony and penitence. Crimson drops fall from his lips, cascading

Down his and begin to stain his chest anew. His shoulders twitch wildly as he

Raises his other arm to his mouth and bites deep into his own flesh again. Now, an

Odd smile seems to creep across his face – a smile which slowly decays into a scream –

A scream he has neither the voice nor the force left to release. His head flies back

Against the wall and he collapses in the bleeding heap. His breathing slows and fades.

Chorus should fade out their sounds of delerium.

Darkness spreads across the room, devouring the figures on the floor, obliterating

all features of the room. At last there is silence. At last there is darkness. Not even

the wind dares to breathe in the scent of the horror which binds both corpses to the

cold stone floor. They are bound in darkness. They are one in the hungry jaws of

Death’s desire. There is only stillness. Only silence.

After a long pause, four strikes on a gong and the beginning of a dirge played on a

Bass drum by Solones announce the beginning of the final chorus. Phrases in

parentheses are spoken by E., M., and the Slave Trader.

Chorus (in unison) over a funeral drumbeat:

Woe unto them,

Who pay the gods no heed.

Woe unto them

Who revel in their greed.

Woe unto us,

Although our deeds by love be born,

(Woe unto us)

Presuming to be Earth’s master,

(Woe onto us)

Who look not to the coming morn

(Woe onto us)

When we shall meet disaster.

Dirge ends.

The End.