Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

I mean...we have ghost lights for a reason, right? Medlin's short horror is deliciously effective, pitting two friends against a spirit that...well, wants to do some acting? I'll say nothing more, suffice that this would be a hit at any horror festival. If you're looking for some spooky in your afternoon, you won't do better than this. Delightful.

First of all, what a magnificent title. This is a title everyone sees and wishes they had thought of it. It's absolutely brilliant, and if you disagree, thou art a liar. Moving forward, Bultrowicz puts voice to a compelling thought. "How telling is it that in the human imagination, the natural escalation of AI sentience comprehending human atrocity is the atrocity of our own genocide?" Thankfully, ADA is not human, and listening to her thoughts, hopes, and dreams is one of the most powerful monologues you will ever encounter. Everyone should read this. Then do it. Stellar.

Corona's dystopian torture tank is not only an absurdist masterclass, but a modern classic. Beckettian isolation and wordplay (the language! God, what magnificent language!) abounds throughout, resulting in a darkly surreal playground to both watch and participate in. It is a challenging piece, but daring and inviting, and one I look forward to digesting again and again. This is a script sorely in need of production. Enter.

Huh...who would have thunk? The Pearly Gates are a little...different than we purported. I guess everyone's a little bit correct. If Plumridge's Heaven is in anyway accurate to the real thing, perhaps death will be something to look forward to! If we can pal around the way Marston and "Steph" quickly manage in this guffaw-inducing play, I don't see much issue aside from the being dead part. Definitely check out this short. It is guaranteed to put a smile on your face.

Funny, musing, and with a perfect pinch of irreverence, DeFrates' self-described "poetic mess" is anything but. A mess that is. Love is a mess, of course, but this exploration of it is not. It's a delight, with a pulsating sense of openness and energy that you could stage in endless ways. Actors and designers alike have a playground to work with here, and it would be so much fun to see this onstage.

I grew up attending a Baptist church, but did not learn how many denominations of Christianity there were (including my own) until high school. My first reaction was anger, because I saw it as fighting over wording, instead of the spirit of the bigger picture. It's what we're doing now, and the bigger picture is that no matter our beliefs of how things are or should be, we're running on less and less and less time on this planet. Feriend's play is pitch-perfect, timely, hopeful, and grim, comforting the eco-grief, and confronting our inaction (or denial) at the same time.

To an extent, it's all our fantasy. "What if your character(s) leapt off the page and into real life?" Be careful what you wish for. Heyman's play doesn't go where you think it might. The characters of Schiftan's novel find themselves in our world, but find themselves confronted with very our world problems, as an existential exploration into the very heart of storytelling commences. What are stories, really? Who deserves to tell them? Are they solely ours? Perhaps most crucially, why do we write them? It's a nuanced, fascinating adventure, one that would be marvelous to see in action.

The Holocaust remains an example of some of the darkest, purest evils of which humanity is capable. We learn about it as children (at least, I don't think Republicans have eradicated that from the curriculum), but there's an element of aging that disconnects us from the horrors. That's why we tell stories. To remember. Lest we repeat it. "Mere Waters" is a staggering play, and a celebration and struggle of life, amidst so much cruelty and death. I had no idea Dr. Perl existed. Now that I do, it means everything. A call to action from the past. Magnificent work.

Fairly often, recommendations on this site will include some variation of the phrase, "I'd love to see this onstage." Well...Scott Sickles has achieved the impossible. He has crafted a terrifying, all-too-plausible epic that I do not want to see onstage, simply because I don't know if I could handle it. For that reason, it absolutely should be staged. "Tesseract" is riveting, disturbing, enraging, crippling, it's just...it's a nightmare. Brought to life. It crackles with dark energy. And I will never not be haunted by it.

"The Alley" is an unrelenting, deeply indicting behemoth. A (rare) well-intentioned inquiry from an employer to employee turns into something wholly unexpected, that plumbs into the darkest depths of human behavior and tendency. It's an immensely powerful piece, and so brilliantly restrained in its simplicity. I'm throwing all these fancy words out here because what I really am is speechless. I really can't say anything about this play that the play doesn't say better and clearer itself. So stop reading this rec and read the play instead. It's unfortunately timely, and timeless at the same time.