ACT ONE: EUROPA

ORIGINS: All Eyes On Me (Mlle Mer)

My days as a human were unbeatably dull compared to my current life but it did set me up for centre stage.

I was born in no particularly interesting place to people who don't strike as interesting themselves. I went to school as most children do and afterwards found an affinity for the stage. To express myself and other to the world, to be a muse, a puppet for others emotions.

I left university with the highest degree of professionalism. Boring. My first job in the world of lights and cameras was as an assistant to an up and coming director. Then he died.

Then, I started writing my own plays and musicals. They weren't as groundbreaking as Shakespeare or Tennessee Williams but they were children of my mind. Ways of express my unconventional thoughts and walk among them. They were my paints and guitars and vials.

Per chance I stumbled upon an old Shakespeare play. At this point any British media has been swiftly banned and tossed in the bay. I read it. For superstition purposes I cannot recite the name. The tragedy sparked some inner craftsmanship inside. I was sent mad with images, light directions and special effects.

The play - for those unfortunate and happy enough to have strayed from old English texts - follows a man and his own downfall. He becomes king. And then dies.

I wrote a play, a play about the death of a tyrannical king and who would take his place as ruler. I was quite proud of it. Two acts, both lasting an hour each with eight scenes in the first half and twelve in the last.

I was a fool, I admit, I probably should not have done that.

Execution was not the way I thought I would be dying. I wanted something grand or thoughtful. To die surrounded with friends and family.

I did not. If I remember clearly there were no family members or friends present at my death. Stranger, in excess, even a king came! But I didn't see a single familiar face.

For a week before I paced my cell. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. I almost went insane! As if my sanity was slipping through the cracks of the concrete and the darkest nested inside.

I went insane.

Justice, Eleanor, whatever you want to call her came to visit me. Once. She came by my cell and we conversed.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this. I wish...I wish I could do something". She refused to let me see her. Probably some fear that gods cannot be weak, and the fear that if they see her as weak then what's the point in her being a god if she can't even stop a human. I'm not a therapist.

I don't think I responded. Probably too busy dealing with the whole 'Going to die in a few days' issue I was having.

"I was a fan of yours. It's a shame that artists are so easy tripped up. The world deserves some art. Some emotion. Some decoration". She leaned her head on the bars. Her blue eye glanced at me. "My youngest loved to dance. He would dance around the bed without a care in the world. Shame the world pounded it out of him". She turned back "Do you have any final requests?"

I thought about it. Should I expand my legacy? Have one final performance of my plays? Would the king even allow that? I could ask for something more modest like on elast chance to see my family, but would they even come? Would they want to see their daughter like some rat? I could ask for a final meal, but food seems to leave a bitter taste in my mouth as of recently, how strange.

What do I want before my death? I gave her an answer.

Justice left and again, I was alone.

A day later I was taken to a small stage on one of the bridges that overlooked the river. The water was restless, upset perhaps? Water, the beginner and mother of life from whence we came and who we depend on, to see one of her children die.