The Spoken Confession

A spotlight appears on Guy, who is sitting, tied to a chair by handcuffs. He is sitting at a table, with a pen and a confession form on it.

 

That's a little bright. Can you turn in down a bit please?

 

The spotlight fades a little.

 

Thank you. What's this? He leans forward. Ahh... a confession form. I take it you want me to sign this. I'll need my hands free.

 

Guy looks at a person in the shadows and waits for him to undo the handcuffs. He then stretches his arms and cracks his fingers.

 

Thank you. So, you want to know what happened.

 

He leans back and rests his hands clasped on his chest.

 

Well it's like this. Yeah, I tried to blow up the houses of parliament, but you don't know the entire story. I was just one part of the plan, I was only the guy doing the dirty work. I'm guessing you don't know the names of the others. Let me see, there were John and Christopher Wright, Robert Keyes, Sir Thomas Percy, Lord John Grant, Sir Ambrose Rokewood and Thomas Bates along with others. The whole thing was led by Robert Catesby and Sir Francis Tresham, the treacherous bastards. They were looking for more Catholic power in this country. I can't say I blame them, King James' death would mean the rise of Princess Elizabeth, a catholic. It would be grand, the glorification of God all over England, don't you think?

 

He takes a cigarette and lighter from his pocket and lights it, taking a drag. He puts the lighter back on the table.

 

So, the 5th November 1605, the day that would have changed the face of this country's future. And you stopped us, scared to stand up against the Crown. I wonder if you ever questioned yourself. I'll tell you now, I did not question my actions, nor do I now. This country needed a rebellion against that intolerant king. All we are asking for is the right to practice our faith and James can't stand it.

 

He takes another drag from the cigarette.

 

That is what this feud has led to - the wish for rebellion or all-out war.

 

He flicks the lighter on, then off.

 

Wouldn't that be lovely? It would certainly wipe the faces off all those protestant fools. I'm guessing the 'king' doesn't want a religious war on his hands; well that's his problem isn't it.

 

He flicks the lighter on, then off, then on, then off.

 

How can you stand there and do nothing? How can you serve a king who doesn't let his citizens worship as they will? How do you stand it? I did what I thought was right. You can call me a terrorist, I don't care.

 

He flicks the lighter on, then off.

 

I don't care because I stand by my decision. You can make me talk and you have made me talk. I went through two days of torture for you to make me talk. But you cannot make me feel guilty for something that I know had to be done.

 

He flicks the lighter on, and then blows it out.

 

And it did have to be done. I know my actions are going to be costly. I know when I walk out of this room, I'm walking to my death but, like I said before, I'm only one man. You can get rid of me...but it won't stop. It won't stop until we have a Catholic back on the throne, until we are allowed to freely practice our beliefs in our own way.

 

He chuckles.

 

You might as well kill me now, don't though. You won't have as much fun if you kill me now.

 

He grins manically.

 

I'm just saying - it wouldn't make a difference if you did.

 

He pauses, as if being asked a question.

 

The plan? The plan was simple; buy a cellar under the houses of parliament, load it with barrels of gunpowder and then light a match. After that...

 

He flicks the lighter on.

 

Boom.

 

He stares at the flame for a second before blinking, and then he shuts the lighter.

 

So my final confession, yeah I'll sign it. He picks up the pen. I stand by my actions.

 

He signs the piece of paper.

 

I stand by my actions because we have to make hard decisions for the greater cause. And I would do anything for God. I made my decision, I stuck by my decision and I have to live with the consequences because we can't second-guess what we do.

 

He stands and walks in front of the table.

 

Call me what you like; terrorist, traitor, religious maniac, pyromaniac. I don't care. Whether you agree with me or not, that's your decision. So make it.

 

 His hands are pulled out as if he is being hand cuffed. Then the light goes out.

 

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