Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

I genuinely think the majority of parents do their best. There comes a point where we all realize that our parents aren't God-like figures, but humans. Regular people, just like us, with flaws and hopes and dreams trying to make it in the world. But there also comes a point where we have to decide whether we agree with our parents or not. On values. The things we'll do or won't do. Blevins' short play is a powerful example of two siblings in that struggle. Impactful, poignant, and proud, this is an amazing piece.

A small monologue of mythic proportion, Cathro has slapped us across the face through the keyboard once again (in the best way). Each of us can point to events in our upbringing that, in hindsight, we regret in some way or another, perhaps wonder (or wish?) what our lives would have been like had we made a different choice. Cynthia's tale is a beautiful, lyrical, and evocative story. To say more would spoil its magic grandeur. Read it. I can only imagine what it would be like to hear live.

Like always, Cross delivers with a short that is delightfully funny, while also down to earth. The voices of the two kids are pitch-perfect, and leave us a thoughtful reminder that just because our pens are red, that doesn't necessarily mean that they leave red ink. Don't judge the book. Don't judge the person. We're all going through it.

If your partner makes the assumption that there's only one Steve Martin, it's a usually harmless faux pas. If your partner doesn't give you the time to remind them there's more than one Steve Martin, and the one you're referring to isn't THAT Steve Martin, and they just assume you mean THAT Steve Martin, that's maybe a red flag. Poor Theodore. Steve Martin is pretty exciting. Perhaps too exciting. At least too exciting for Jan, Lila, and Aaron to let him get the real story in. Run Theodore. Run like the wind. Hilarious.

It's not really Death that scares us. It's meeting Death before we're ready. It's not so much ceasing or nothingness, not oblivion, but the conceiving of it. What thought is more terrifying, more anxiety-inducing then suddenly losing and forgetting all our hopes, dreams, loves, and loved ones? But true oblivion means we won't feel that hole. Only those we leave behind. Sickles' chess match is unique, but so timeless in the same moment, and it's worth your attention. A beautiful short piece.

Poor Jerry, yay us. Her encounter with Baldr is absolutely hysterical, a goddamned delight, a where has Emily McClain BEEN all my life she's so good. You really can't get much better than this, and I cannot gush too hard for fear of spoiling the comedy genius at play in this short piece. MANY GOOD POINTS ARE MADE. Stan Lee would approve. And I don't think I can say more than that.

As a horror lover, I'm certainly biased towards ghost stories. But Blevins' short play reaches a level that so many do not, where we feel the tenderness of a life lost, and the warmth left behind in the haunting. Full of fantastic roles all around, Clara's story is fun, spooky, and poignant beyond your wildest imagination. Simply put, read this, then stage it. You'll regret it if you don't.

Hiding is a rational, natural response in lieu of having the difficult conversations. Trauma is complex, exceedingly hard to work through with our own selves, much less other people, or perhaps most frighteningly, those closest to us. Heyman's moving Seder play reminds us how insurmountable it can feel to be open with those we love. That it's often messy, and we say things we regret. But if we can manage to come out of hiding, or be vulnerable enough to search for one another, that it is worth it. Beautiful piece.

Martin has always excelled at those small, soft moments, gently capturing people who are at their most human, in all the beauty and ugliness that make up the word. With "Going through Hell," I daresay he has outdone himself. This is a beautiful play that is immaculately structured and composed. It is funny. It is cringe. It is horrible. And it constantly surprises. A wonderful and welcome adaptation of the story we've heard and know, but so much more and so much its own tale. Highly recommend.

We all know the story. Or do we? Soucy proves maybe we don't actually know anything until it's confirmed for us. "The Midnight Cafe" is a fun little jaunt through charted horror territory, or so we think, until Soucy pulls the rug out from under our expectations in a refreshing, thought-provoking way. And what's underneath the rug changes everything. Wonderfully built script.