Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

A handy, divine metaphor for the mental stress and trauma of dealing with obesity and eating disorders, Lamedman's short comedy is a thoughtful, poignant hoot. I also applaud the restraint on display, as it's so easy with this kind of piece to punch down with the subject matter. The characters' battles are real, treated honestly, and they affect each other genuinely. Lovely work.

This one will stick with you. Sickles' solo piece is thrilling, creepy, and evocative, standing with the best of the best "lost in the woods" stories. The horror is first-rate, as always, but the true gems of this play sneak up on us (as well as Skylar), and paint a lasting image and perturbation in our minds. It's just delightful in the least comforting of ways, and the ending manages to throw everything on its head, leaving us with plenty to ponder. You could do this hundreds of ways, and you should.

We've all heard the adage. "Don't feed the trolls." Whatever we're looking for, whatever we're hoping to gain, whatever we're trying to prove, the anonymity of the internet has brought the worst of humanity to a bigger platform than ever, and to enter combat against it is futile. Richter's short play is hilarious (for us), excellently astute, and brilliant, especially once the origin of the discourse is revealed. Why is it always [spoilers] fans? Just give up, Simon.

I really love this play. We often see meanness in teens, but rarely do we see such internal ugliness as Alex puts on display here, and it's such a great choice (to see and for the actor). Both of these roles are absolute powerhouses, and McClain's short drama is full of juicy power shifts, delightful symbolism, and loud silences. It's just so good. Seriously. We don't see plays like this as much as we should. Highly recommend.

Horror runs the spectrum of possible to fantastical, and Carnes reinforces the notion that the worst, most frightening things that can happen are the things that CAN happen. Probably have happened. Many times. Bob and Dan say they're just having fun, but they know what they're really doing. We all do. The simple fact of the matter is, men don't have to worry about ever being in this situation. We don't go through life keeping an exit strategy in the backs of our heads. A commanding, sobering, terrifying piece of writing. I wish it didn't have to exist.

I really don't know how to classify this play and that is one reason why I love it. It's funny, wholesome, mysterious, scary. Without spoiling too much, it's also a mournful horror with a happy ending. What?! It takes a deft hand to mix this many emotions together and make it feel cohesive, but Gatton's structure is immaculate, complete with one of the best left-turns in anything ever. A wild and thought-provoking ride on every level, this is a fantastic piece of writing that would thrill any audience.

There's nothing so profound and fundamentally changing as an existential crisis, so to know that even inanimate objects can experience them is both reassuring and terrifying. Gill's mastery of comic timing is on full display here, but even more brilliant is his subtle, gradual descent into a blistering critique of (some of) humanity's response to climate change and environmentalism. When we all melt in the glorious heat of the sun, are we truly different than our titular hero? Won't we theoretically melt faster?

A poignant, deeply moving portrayal of two kids working through something no child should have to. Unfortunately, death reaches us all, and Bluestein-Lyons' play is an unflinching exploration of coping with grief while still discovering the world around us (both real and imaginary). I appreciate how she doesn't sugarcoat the heavier aspects of grief, and allows the kids to have and feel and battle with complex, mature emotions (because they do!). The script is tight and filled with wonder, and I long to see it produced with a group of artists who know how to fill a stage with imagination.

100 words isn't enough to truly express how electrifying Malakhow's play is. This script FLOORED me. It is fraught with dread, tension, hope, and change. I saw a reading of it through The Garden and literally could not sit still, as multiple moments every scene inspired visceral reactions. An amazing, deeply layered examination of living in a society that is struggling to combat and navigate white supremacy and systemic oppression, and how often we still put teachers at the vanguard of the battle. This is a masterful work. Highly recommend.

While I'm tempted to simply say, "Mrs. Incredible," and walk away, I should sing praises for St. James' play with a little more context. So...I declare this play absolutely amazing and the singularly best play ever about a completely average pandemic pod powerpoint party. The characters are delightful, the set design (really the whole thing) makes excellent use of zoom as a medium, and the horror is the best kind. Scary, yet leaving the perfect amount to our imaginations. Zoom plays will have some life after this pandemic is deemed over, and this play will be leading the charge.