Lisa VillaMil

Knocked out in the middle of Yukon Quest, the hardest dog sledding race in the world, a musher dreams of the events that led her team to this breaking point, a journey that makes her question what it is to be an Alpha. This play is still in development, but this is a current, workable draft.

Daughter’s grief sends her spiraling, and eventually leads her running away to the sea, where there is Quiet in this chaotic year, the year of her Mother’s death.

Or so she thinks.

Mother liked Quiet as well, and she shared that love with Daughter, sailing in their sailboat, Calliope. But now Mother is dead Quiet… or is she?

A violent storm kicks up, it’s not Quiet at all. And what does Daughter hear in the storm, why does it sound so familiar? Why does it call to her?

Meanwhile, Father reaches for his Daughter across the divide of raging water and storm clouds – of anger and disconnect – constructing a makeshift lighthouse in his neighborhood, praying to guide her home.

But the voice… there’s a voice in the storm. And it is so alluring to Daughter. And the guilt she feels propels her towards it.

Because what if it’s mom?

Told in time-jumping scenes that blend together and direct address, Siren tells the magical realist story of a family that loves each other, but can’t connect. Pulling from various myths around the world, Siren attempts to craft a new mythic tale, where mother becomes a legendary monster, and Daughter is pulled between a world of desolation and one of hope.

Girl wishes she’d stayed in, but when you’re in college, you’re supposed to party, right? You’re supposed to go out. She downs a shot. Maybe two. Is she having fun yet? She thinks she’ll just leave early. Walk home in the crisp air, sober up – sticking to well-lit paths, of course.

Lady mourns her shift at the club, dancing for change tonight, since young boys don’t know how to tip. She’s tired. She’s so tired. Her head hurts. She can’t wait to crash in bed, but first she has to make it home without crashing the car.

Woman singes her grandson’s birthday cake. She was always better at pie, anyway. But cake is traditional… she musters up the gumption to walk to the corner store for Betty Crocker. Her husband grumbles disapprovingly. It’s late.

But nothing goes as planned, and Girl gets attacked, and Lady falls apart, and Woman loses her mind.

And then they go blank.

And no one knows if it’s a virus, or what.

But these females – and not just these females… aren’t female anymore.

They’re nothing, just skin and bones, no color, no hair, no feelings, no… parts.

Nothing.

And they certainly aren’t merciful.

The classic tale in a new adaptation.

Nuclear winter has descended upon the globe. The last train south out of Paris is boarding. But not everyone will be drawn in the lottery. When Celia and Rhys find themselves awaiting the lottery results on the same bench, they strike up a challenging acquaintance amidst falling bombs and a nameless war, asking the question ‘what kind of world do we live in now...’ and what happens if they don't catch the train at all?

At the end of the world, the past catches up.