Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

It's a recipe we know and love: a group of strangers in the middle of nowhere, something dangerous is loose outside, or...one of the strangers is the danger. Kashner's execution of the paranoia-inducing pressure cooker is delightfully unique and packed with dread, truly leaving you guessing until the final pages. It's a remarkable and restrained display of pacing, and absolutely the most fun thing you'll read in a hot minute. A perfect example of the potential for horror on stage. Gloriously chilling.

Flynn's prose is not only astounding, but powerfully atmospheric, immediately centering the audience (also promptly informed they will be assisting) in a heady, vast expanse of wordplay. Together, Christian and Dasha provide two powerhouse roles for a pair of actor-improvisers, as they guide the audience through the magic of words, bodies, boredom, handsomeness, and everything in-between. As anyone can of love, I could unpack this puppy for days and I am gladly off to do just that. Pure fun and the exact thing sorely missing in contemporary theatre.

Sullivan goes where Cronenberg would never dare, a sleepover. Saying anything more would spoil the descent, but rest assured it is a bloody, stinky, anguished, manic descent. Good god. A delightful, uncomfortable snapshot of what life brings to the day to day of young women in their mid-20s. It ain't pretty. It's stinky. Stinky stinky stinky.

Everybody toots. What matters is how.

Both a hilarious period comedy and a wise treatise on the power of embracing one's own shame, Blevins' little play is an absolute riot. Wilkin and Doxy are an immediately infectious duo, springing to life off of the page despite their stationary predicament. Any short playfest has a crowd winner with this one, as its gloriously dirty bodily function humor is just appropriate enough for all ages. Stop reading my words and read the play instead. Do it now.

"The Plague" brings a lot of things together, many of them things I fear to spoil, and all of them in combinations that never before had I realized I very much wanted. Carnes' play is a slow-burning, satirical, grand dance into Hell, and an absolute playground for actors, dancers, and choreographers. So much fun will be had here in bringing the world of the studio to life. There's much to, uh...feed upon underneath the surface of it.

Every industry has been plagued by our current bout of unsustainable, late-stage capitalism. Gill's play is a troubling, keening mosaic of three truckers, some veteran, some rookie, all caught up in the vortex. It's an enlightening reminder that at the bottom rung of everything, are people. People with hopes, dreams, aspirations, and faults, just trying to survive in systems that don't particularly care if they do. It's brutal, moving, and heartbreaking, and if anyone is going to make it, it's because of the people willing to stay up with us.

A grand meditation on doubts and regret, whether it's truly possible to change, and so much more, "Orta" is a feast. It's a discovery. It's a feascovery!!

St. Julius is genuinely one of the most delightful and distinct characters I've ever encountered, and he grounds an ensemble that continuously dazzles and amazes. Snakes and serpents are often used in tales as allegory or metaphor, but never quite in this way. It's a piece I will be unable to stop thinking about. Though I leave it for now, I surely will be back. Highly recommend.

We know that cosmic horror is about the glimpses. The sudden knowledge of far too much or a visage of gods so vast that it breaks our brains. But it's so rare to encounter a play that feels like madness. From the first syllable, Horowitz's play feels insane. Not rad, not crazy, but fully immersed in something broken, and the more of it that we parse, the more we succumb to the fate of its characters. A fantastic short for two actors, no special effects budget needed. Check this out now.

Whether Simon Says or nay (...), we should all applaud Moughon's terrifying short. This is a tour-de-force for three actors, and it descends into absolute horror with perfect pacing. Even the stage directions pull atmosphere work here, and I would be hard-pressed to imagine anyone not leaving a theatre chilled. Magnificent. Many claim horror doesn't work on stage. It's too much. Too expensive. Too hard.

We have a new example to point to that proves otherwise.

The best short plays often end leaving us recontextualizing everything that came before it. It is (pardon the pun) a delicious thing, and Smith's "Tasty" supplies in spades. I shant spoil why Smith doesn't eat and Jones eats everything, but will offer that the pay-off is pitch perfect. Delectable.