Monologue from Unnamed Play

Note- I'm not quite sure where I'm going to fit this in. Also, I have a few more scenes that aren't done yet. What I think I'm going to do is when the play is done is put my email up and let anyone who wants to read the final draft email me

BRIAN Maybe I've just been playing Don Quixote all this time.

KEVIN You’re not fucking Don Quixote. You don’t fight windmills, you just try to imagine they’re not there, like one of those birds.

BRIAN Huh?

KEVIN In California, they had these wind fields. Hundreds of windmills generating electricity. Clean, environmentally-friendly power. Or it would be, except for these birds. Their migration route runs straight through the wind fields. Shouldn’t be a problem, right? I mean the birds see the windmills, don’t they? They must! So do they fly around them? No! They fly the same fucking way they always do because that’s the only way they know

I saw it happen once. I saw an entire flock fly straight onward as if the way was clear. Maybe they just didn’t believe that anything could go wrong. That something would keep them safe if they stayed the course. I watched, as they all flew headlong into the spinning blades to die in a mess of blood and feathers.

But that wasn’t the worst part. No, here’s what really fucked with me. There was this one bird who was lagging maybe fifty yards behind the rest. There was no question about it. He had to have seen what had happened to his friends. Shit, some of their feathers were still drifting about, and yet somehow caution failed to sway his course. He was, as were all the rest, fanatically committed to his given course despite spinning blades and certain death. And for his stubborn devotion he met the same fate. Bones crushed, flesh shredded, and blood spattered.

He wasn’t the last either. These birds kept flying and they kept dying, and it didn’t stop until eventually the wind fields were dismantled, saving the lives of God knows how many dumb birds.

But no one is going to take down your windmills, Brian. They are there for you and you alone to fight, and as scary as it may be to turn away from what is familiar and face an uncertain future, the one thing that I can guarantee is that you are doomed if you don’t. There’s honor in fighting windmills, Brian, but not in flying without thought into spinning blades.