Confession #1

I confess, I shot him.

It was opening night, Crimson Rain, a Great Depression drama about a fugitive on the run after robbing a bank. In the first act, he rushes onto stage as thunder rolls and strobe lights emulate lightning. It’s raining outside, and his car went off road. And now he’s hiding in a barn with his ill gotten goods. He rushes around the mostly dark stage, hiding the money in a hay bail, and his gun on a workshop table.

He lights a lamp, and the stage lights change from a cool blue to a warm orange. The fugitive stands in the spotlight, warming his hands, when he hears the barn door creak open. In walks the farmer.

”Are you doing alright, son? Mighty fierce storm out there.” The farmer says.

“Not my lucky night. My car slid off the road a couple miles back. I’m drenched. I don’t mean to be a burden, if I can stay here ’till the storm passes I’ll be on my way.”

The farmer, a kind guy, he softens. He takes another step into the barn and says, “Well why don’t you come inside, you can use my phone to call a pickup and we can get you all dried off.”

“Gee mister, that’s really nice, but really I’m already putting you out. I don’t mind staying in the barn, storm should pass soon.” You see, the audience doesn’t know this yet, but they will soon, the robber, he had a partner who he left behind. He’s worried that if he leaves all that money out here, unattended, someone’s gonna find it. Whether it’s the cops, the farmer, or his old partner. So he insists, “I grew up on a farm. I don’t mind barns at all.”

But the farmer, he has his rebuttal all ready: “Well, then you should know better. We’d never turn away someone in need- And I’ll be real honest, it’s over fifty miles to the next town. You’re not gonna get far on foot.”

And they go back and forth, the robber insisting that he’s fine, and the farmer insisting he’s not. But the whole time, the robber is inching closer to the workshop table. Finally, the farmer has enough. He says ”Either you can come inside and use the phone, or you can leave. But you can’t stay in this barn.”

The robber says “I’m sorry it had to go this way.”

Then the robber lunges for the gun, picks it up, aims and shoots. There’s a big bang, all the lights drop, and a red spot highlights the farmer. Which gives the whole set this washed out look, and makes it feel like you’re watching a black and white film.

The farmer stumbles back, gripping his chest. He says a couple words, and then collapses. Then the stage goes dark, and we move into the next act. That’s how it’s supposed to happen- It’s what we rehearsed. In sweatpants, on weekends, and evenings after work, for four months. It’s all I thought about when I went to my coffee shop job in the morning, and it’s all I talked about when I was out with friends at night.

And on opening night, after so many run throughs and rehearsals, it becomes second nature, right? You go through the motions, you hit your marks and you say the lines.

I was the robber. I hit all my marks, said all my lines, and when I picked up the gun, I noticed it was a little heavier than I remembered. Actually, it kinda threw me off, but any good actor is a good improviser, so I used the confusion to play up the frantic energy. I pull back the hammer, take a half step towards the farmer, and I shoot him right in the heart.

I knew it was wrong immediately, the bang was too loud. And it didn’t come from the speakers. The smell of gunpowder was too strong- too strong for those cheap pop caps that were supposed to be loaded in the gun. And the farmer- My friend, Robert Johansson, he looked up at me with real shock. Not the surprise shock I’d seen painted on his face every night, but real genuine shock. The red spot hit, and this black pool just spread across his chest.

Rob hit the ground too hard. He let out this awful wheeze. I threw the gun away from me, and dropped to my knees. Hot tears blurred my eyes, and I remember holding Rob’s hand. And I remember a moment later, when his grip started to weaken.

I blinked the tears away, and the house lights had come up. People in the audience were murmuring to themselves. My stage manager, Janet, I heard her talking to 911 explaining what had happened. She said someone was shot. I remember thinking, is that what happened? Did I shoot him?