One hundred fifty years ago today, Damien Marchesseault got up early, walked to City Hall, wrote a letter to his wife, and shot himself in the face.
I hope I can do his heartbreaking story justice in my book.
Song: The Mayor's Lament
Marchesseault (offstage): In the early morning
In the calm before the dawn
No one can see my shame
I must do no more harm
(The spotlight illuminates the very end of an aisle in the house. Damien Marchesseault appears, slowly walking toward the stage as if walking to the gallows, accompanied only by the mournful tones of a viola.)
Marchesseault: I worked so hard
God knows I tried
We only wanted water
But that dream has died
Did I spread myself too thin?
Was I taking on too much?
Was it a fight I couldn't win?
Or did I just lose my touch?
Another sinkhole
Another glass of whiskey
Another loan I can't pay back
Another night of gambling
(Enters City Hall council chamber. Sits at a desk, picks up a pen and sheet of paper, and begins to write.)
Oh, my beloved Mary
I must ask for her forgiveness
How greatly I have wronged her
I stole her happiness
I never can escape
I've dug a hole so deep
My loving, loyal Mary
She'll be better off without me
(Rises to his feet as the music swells.)
To finally end this nightmare
There can only be one way
Oh, I don't want to leave her
But I lost my right to stay
(Marchesseault, broken and defeated, takes a revolver out of his coat pocket and spins the chamber. The music tapers off as the lights slowly dim to complete darkness.
Beat. Then, in the pitch-black theater, just three sounds can be heard:
Click.
Click.
BOOM.)
Oh, I don't want to leave her
But I lost my right to stay
(Marchesseault, broken and defeated, takes a revolver out of his coat pocket and spins the chamber. The music tapers off as the lights slowly dim to complete darkness.
Beat. Then, in the pitch-black theater, just three sounds can be heard:
Click.
Click.
BOOM.)
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