Free Ditch by Beth Steel

bitin’ winds. We’d stop and eat sandwiches on a brow lookin’ out at them moors, at valleys covered in droves a’
heather, and fells . . . fells white with snow. If I think about the places I been, and I been my fair share, those white fells a’ the loveliest thing I ever seen. I’d like to go there. I’d like to see snow on the fells again.
    Megan But there won’t be any.
    Mrs Peel No. There won’t.
    Megan But we could still go there.
    Mrs Peel nods. She moves behind Megan .
    Megan ( Turns to Mrs Peel . ) When a’ we gonna leave?
    Mrs Peel We’ leavin’ at sunrise.
    Megan Tomorrow?
    Mrs Peel ( Smiles. ) Tomorrow.
    Megan turns her beaming face round.
    Mrs Peel raises the knife and slits Megan ’s throat.
    Mrs Peel stands motionless for a long time.
    A long shear of light. A series of low concussions.
    Mrs Peel kneels, takes the blade and slits her throat.
    The sun sets. The sun rises.
    A shoot grows out of the earth.
    Blackout.

Ditch
    Beth Steel was born in Nottingham and was part of the Invitation Group for Emerging Writers at the Royal Court and is currently a writer on attachment for both HighTide and Theatre503. Ditch is her first play.