Written by:
Alyson Abalos

(Donson and Bernadette wait at the entrance of their house as a black car approaches. Donson is a middle aged man at about 6’1” and in impeccable shape, while Bernadette, his wife, is a petite blonde with constant worry in her eyes)

Donson: This is it, love. You know if you ever need someone, you have all those letters I’ve written out for you. (He gestures towards a medium-sized sealed cardboard box)

Bernadette: Two years is a long time. You better make it back in one piece. Take care, alright?

Donson: I will. (He exits to the black car and takes off)

(Scene change. Donson is at the NASA space center, boarding one of their latest built shuttles. He is dressed in all appropriate attire for spacetravel. Donson takes a seat inside the shuttle and waits)

(A voice comes from the speaker inside the shuttle)

Man #1: Donson, are we ready to go?

Donson: Ready!

Man #1: Alright, let’s do this… Three… Two… One… Blast off.

(The shuttle departs for deep space. Donson sits still, fascinated by what he is about to endure. Two years in space is something Donson would have never even dreamed of doing. Time passes, and Donson now resides in outer space. He speaks to an audio journal to record his psychological development there)

Donson: Week one: Everything is going smooth. I am starting to miss home, of course. I keep this picture of my wife near me to remind me of what it’s all about. Soon enough, I will be home and have made enough money from my travels to finally support our soon-to-be family. Two years can’t be that hard to handle. I’ll be fine.

(Donson’s tranquil personality keeps him sane during his endeavors. Six months pass)

Donson: Month six: I am okay. I am okay. I am okay.

(The pitter-patter of running mice is audible. There are no mice in the cabin.)

Donson: The mice are so loud; it keeps me up at night. I hate the whispering women too. I can’t hear what they’re saying about me, but they laugh after everything.

(Donson is the only individual upon the cabin. His eyes look weary, and he has clearly lost a significant amount of weight. He can never take his eyes of his wife’s photo now. Fourteen months pass)

Donson: Month fourteen: I’ve found myself here. He’s really mean to me. His name is Donson and he says menacing things to me. I am in so much pain. I want to go home.

(Twenty months pass. Donson is covered in scars and bruises and is constantly crying. His eyes don’t look even remotely the same as to when he started his journey into space. He clings to the photo for dear life.)

Donson: Donson is torturing me. He’s hurting me. Please take me home. (He looks at the photo of his wife, now with confusion.) Who is this? Who the fuck is this?!

(Donson holds the image’s frame firmly in one hand, and with the other, breaks open the glass of it and tears up the picture.)

(Twenty four months pass. The next day, the shuttle will be returning home. Donson, who was once full of fear, now looks to be in a state of euphoria. His eye bags, however, are almost charcoal black and his gaze is focused on a nonexistent world.)

Donson: I love it here. I love Donson. I don’t want to go anywhere.

(Time passes, and Donson returns to the space station and is driven home. His wife waits at the door, holding a small child of almost two years old. She has the biggest grin on her face.)

Bernadette: Donson! We’ve missed you, and look who entered the world. This is our baby! (Donson walks right past her, unfazed, as if he hadn’t even seen her. He makes his way to their bedroom.) … Donson? Aren’t you happy? Did you miss us? You know I read all your letters.

(Donson has collected most of Bernadette’s clothes and begins throwing them out the window)


Bernadette: (confused) Excuse me? What did you say to me?

Donson: (picks up a lamp and raises it violently over Bernadette’s head). GET OUT! (Donson brings down the lamp over her head. The curtain closes)