calliope, calliope 2018

sock – a play

photo credits here, edited

by yvette

[SOQUE is carrying a large backpack. The town he is going through is Sockington, a town known to have many travelling socks. There are rows of shops on the street and there seems to be a festival going on.]

SOQUE: Good day, sir. Have you seen a pink furry woolen sock wandering through the town?

MERCHANT: (looks at SOQUE suspiciously) No, I haven’t, lad. Yer be better erf findin’ anotha pretty girl sock, yer know? Ev’rybody knows woolen socks are da Devil’s knitting.

SOQUE: (grits teeth) Thank you very much.

[SOQUE walks for hours, asking many people but no one has seen SOQUE’s lover. He goes to the mayor’s drawer, asking for information and the front desk.]

SOQUE: Good day, ma’am. I would like to inquire about a pink woolen sock. Have you seen her around?

RECEPTIONIST: Hmm… a pink woolen sock… I won’t ask what business you have finding a woolen sock, but I did see one loitering around central a few days ago. I hear she was taken in by a few police socks.

SOQUE: (eyes lighting up) Thank you, ma’am!

[SOQUE returns to the central.]

SOQUE: Oh Soquette, I can’t wait to see you again…After you left months ago to pursue a career in marketing… Oh, how I’ve missed you so!


[The sky is dark. All shops have closed.]

SOQUE: Ah well, I guess I won’t be able to find her in the dark anyway… Might as well go back to the hotel for now…

[SOQUE suddenly freezes. He turns around to see a stall, darker than the rest. There was a malicious aura emitting from it.]

SOQUE: (going towards the stall) What.. is this..? It’s probably not open anyway… Might as well check it out…

[He climbs over to the entrance of the stall. Seeing light coming from the cracks, he gives it a light push. It is open.]

[There, he sees rows of colourful string.]

SOQUE: Oh, it’s just one of those stalls that sell string for new-sock knitting. I guess it was nothing after all.

[As SOQUE is about to leave, he sees a pink strand of string draped on the floor. Feeling nauseous, he picks up the strand. It is woolen.]

UNKNOWN VOICE: Oi! Yer di’nt tell me dis one was woolen! We can’t sell dis! Throw ‘er into the incinerator!


[SOQUE falls to the ground in despair. At this moment, a heavy blow is struck to the back of SOQUE’s head.]