Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

When you love someone, you accept them as they are. Right? All of them. Their faults. Their fantasies. Their obsessions. No. Matter. What.

When you realize where Oty’s expertly paced play is taking you? Hot goddamn. This is a delicious dive into murky waters, and the ethical dilemmas and questions raised by Therese’s innocent inquires are a perfect meal for actors and designers willing to bite. A fantastic show for any company looking to add some classy, modern horror to their line-up.

A humorous, yet terrifying snippet of where we’re probably headed. The idea of an A.I assistant or offshoot attempting to warn humanity is delightfully intriguing, giving the piece the paranoia and uncertainty of any “Body Snatchers” or slow invasion story. Not to mention the fun the actors will have in bringing these programs to life, you’ve got a winning little horror at hand here.

Greta von Ghoul is an instant icon. Honestly, this whole cast is, because I could listen to these adventures week after week. LeBlanc’s short caper is pitch-perfect, evoking old-fashioned, yet madcap 1930s adventure. The delightful dash of supernatural horror and the settings are the cherries on top. As Greta would say to Mister Murphy, this audio play “amuses me so.” Excellent work.

Oof. This is gut-punch after gut-punch. Puller's anthology dives into speculative (yet all far too real and relatable) scenes of what young artists (or their parents) encounter in the vast jungle of theatre education. It's something younger generations are only tuning into now, the idea that good art shouldn't have to come from suffering. If anything, are we being taught that our passions are worth abuse and pain, no matter who it comes from? What are we willing to put up with for the show to go on? Amazing, timely, and thought-provoking, no matter the age of the audience.

Breathtaking. This is a poignant monologue of the miraculous trauma that is being alive in a world (a universe) growing growing growing. In these short pages, Syran’s muser remarks on all of social media, the good, the bad, the in-between, as well how everything we encounter changes us (and us them), and makes us into the people we become. Deftly layered and beautiful in every way. And even though it’s a dog in the monologue, it makes me wanna hold my kitty.

There’s something to be said for the NPX headcanon we’re slowly and collectively forming. I eat cats (I do not eat cats), Jacquie Floyd might be a gangster (she is probably not…I won’t take my chances), Chris Plumridge has WAY too much insight into all of us. I adore how humbling this place is, and that so much good-natured frivolity is instrumental in the creation of fun, new plays. RFWs latest crime short is taut and dripping with dread. It’s great stuff, but the meta makes it extra special.

With the disclaimer that I am 100% in the target audience for this play (like, really…), let me say that nothing delights me more than some mixture of blood, horrific cults, and surprisingly intense etymological debate. Look, when you’re making a sacrifice, semantics is actually very important. I will say nothing more, suffice it to say that if you only read one short play today, make it this. Pitch-perfect horror-comedy. You won’t find better than this.

“Hero Dogberry” is a goddamned delight. It is also a genuine masterpiece. Not only is it a genius companion piece to its source material, but it truly stands on its own as a tremendous tale of mischief, trust, deceit, masking, and how they all intertwine in the development of love and marriage. Amid the countless winks to classic Bard bits and sequences, Cross shines spotlights on what hasn’t aged as well, and examines it playfully and with great nuance. Every role here would be so much fun to bring to life, for actors and designers alike. Highly recommend.

“Shared Credit” is filled with the quick patter and brisk characterization of old Hollywood. The partnership of Joe and Ben flies off the page, crafting chummy and witty exchanges of dialogue with a knowing grin towards the former’s “writing juice.” And then the grin turns into a frown. Alcoholism is so often played for laughs. Not here. Lockhart shows it for the disease it is. And what those who enable it and why must confront within themselves. Some excellent roles for three actors here.

Every scene in this powerhouse of a short two-hander is visceral and caustic, poetic and moving. The language and imagery are an incredible tag-team here. Above them both, a heart-wrenching dread permeates every single second. It all makes for a show that any audience is sure to walk away contemplating long after the performance. I look forward to one day being part of one.