The Unveiling

Restriction: Have four distinct characters, whose vocals overlap during the song.

[ACT 1]

(Benjamin Bartlow)
Julianne, it could work if we try
I don’t see our relationship failing
Why are ghosts and the living so often apart?
I’ve had enough of this veiling…

(Julianne Goddard)
Dad, I feel it again
Like I said, it’s that vibe, it’s that smell-but-not-quite
And whenever this happens
I get this bad feeling we’re in for a fright…

[ACT 2]

(Michael Goddard)
What’s going on here?
Who’s that in the corner?
My God, you’re were right, dear
Julianne, I’m sorry

I can’t believe my eyes
I just never realized that our house is really haunted

You must be the Bartlows
Aren’t you Bartlows?
I knew it all along!
I’m going crazy
We’re going crazy
I knew it all along!

(Julianne Goddard)
Daddy, look, I told you!
Told you, told you, told you!
They made the rattling!
They rearrange things!

I knew all along, Dad
You thought that I was wrong, but our house is really haunted

Dad, are they the Bartlows?
They must be the Bartlows!
I knew it all along!
See, I’m not crazy!
Daddy, I’m not crazy!
I knew it all along!

(Kathy Goddard)
I’ve never seen those flowers
Where did they come from?
No wonder I can’t
Get a wink of sleep here

All along I knew
Though I thought it can’t be true, that our house is really haunted

Ah, so you’re the Bartlows
The poor, poor Bartlows
I knew it all along!
This house is crazy
I knew this house was crazy!
I knew it all along!

Crispin Bartlow

Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

There’s a reason the Goddards can’t see us. It’s hard to explain if you’re not dead. We call it a veiling, but its real name is stranger.

The game is to pull one person through the veiling, just a little. That way, they can see us, when we want to be seen, but otherwise we stay hidden. Julianne was almost there.

But goddamn Ben. With his poems and stupid, fucking, flowers. I’m ready to give her that little tug, and he reaches out of nowhere and.

Fuck me running. The whole thing is collapsing.

Juror #11

Every time Bingham fucks up on the stand, Joshua’s counting his money. Lester doesn’t know where he was on August 8th? Another grand. A furious, uncontrollable-rage-implying outburst? Five gs, easy.

Lester’s got the money to burn, but as the trial goes on, Joshua wonders if Bingham can afford him. He’ll hang the jury, no problem, but it won’t come cheap, and the deeper Bingham digs his grave, the more heat comes down on Joshua when he folds his arms in deliberation.

He’ll have to find a clean phone to call the lawyer. In his head, he’s like a secret agent.

Juror #4

Dalhousie stopped, and furrowed his brows in disbelief
As he recognized the face
“Certainly not,” he muttered, “that can’t be Edward Johns;
He disappeared without a trace!”

“And why is nobody surprised here? Forget about that crook!”
After mumbling that, he leaned in for a closer look

And sat back down, relieved, but still a tad confused
As he took a heavy breath
“The real Ed Johns, he had a scar on his right hand;
That man’s scar is on his left!”

Juror #8

Louise is halfway through her notepad already, and they’re only in the first hour of the day. Lots of evidence introduced today, lots of testimony. She wishes again that she could take pictures in here, but she’ll have to make do with sketches.

In her room in the hotel where they’ve been sequestered, she has a chart on the wall, and a whiteboard with a timeline. When the other jurors ask, she says it’s for the book. She doesn’t tell them that she looks at it all at night, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, she sees something they don’t.

Juror #7

I’ve gotta go, I’ve gotta go, really really really really gotta go
Wasting my time, he did the crime
Bang the gavel, yes he’s guilty, we all know

I’ve gotta go, I’ve gotta go, really really really really gotta go
I’ve got a date, I can’t be late
I need time to put on my new eyeshadow

I’ve gotta go

I’ve gotta go, I’ve gotta go, really really really really gotta go
I’ve gotta go, I’ve gotta go, really really really really gotta go

Julianne Goddard

This house is weird.

I mean, like, weird weird. Not like my cousin Richard’s house, which has that one room that isn’t for anything and those stupid rabbit statues in the yard. Our house has this, like, vibe. It’s not even anything I can put my finger on. Sounds bounce kind of funny, but I don’t know why. Sometimes the air gets a little fuzzy. There isn’t, like, a smell or anything, but almost.

Plus, I swear the stuff in my closet keeps getting rearranged. Not, like, messed up, but sometimes my dresses are hung up backwards.

What was that?

Michael Goddard

I’ve had enough of these carpets
They remind me of the Bartlows — oh that poor family!
And I should probably inquire
About the sounds that plague our home and keep Kathy up at night

And lately, Julianne’s been acting strangely
Making claims about rattling — kids and imaginations!
There is no explanation
For the noises or for why I’m the only sane Goddard left

Juror #5

This fuckin’ guy, thinks Bradwin. Fuckin’ Lester man. You are the shit.

Sure, yes, he killed his wife. Anyone with half a brain can see that. But it sounds like she had it coming.

The prosecution calls Bingham’s (former) sister-in-law, and she talks about the dead woman, all tears and these screeching, terrible sobs. The way she’s talking makes Bradwin think of an ex-girlfriend, this bloodsucking cow he hasn’t thought of in years, and in his head, Diana Bingham-Jones has this old lover’s face and Bradwin hates her a little.

And he thinks, You go, Lester. You fucking rock this.

Juror #9

It’s a shame, that woman was so pretty
It’s a shame, it ended up this way
When it gets this messy it’s a pity
It’s a shame, there’s nothing much to say

But why do women like Diana desire men like him?
I may not have his money, but at least I’m not a criminal
With no respect for the tender lusciousness of the female sex
We’d connect if it were me they would select