Great Expectations
An adaptation of the opening of Charles Dickens' "Great Expectations" for radio. It was supposed to get us used to how radio worked in comparison to the dreaded box. I rather like it :-)
Radio Script
NARRATOR:
Near the marshes of the river Thames was a graveyard, small in size, yet big enough for the little town that stood beside it. Though usually still and silent once the sun had gone down, this night there sat a lone figure, a boy, shivering in the cold. His name was Phillip Pirrip, but that being hard to pronounce he had simply named himself Pip.
Although he was sat alone, Pip was surrounded by his family. His mother and father were buried beside him, as to were his brothers; Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias and Roger. Looking over the marshland with wet eyes, Pip listened as the wind rushed about his ears and watched as it chased the sea. Suddenly a crash broke through his sobbing and made Pip jump.
MAGWITCH:
Hold your noise! Keep still, you little devil, or I’ll cut your throat!
NARRATOR:
A fearful man jumped out from amongst the graves at the side of the church porch, he was dressed all in grey, with tattered shoes and no hat. Pip could see the man was covered head to foot in mud and grime, cuts and bruises littered his arms and face, and he stumbled towards Pip with a limp.
PIP:
Oh! Don’t cut my throat sir! Pray don’t do it sir!
MAGWITCH:
Tell us your name! Quick!
PIP:
Pip, sir.
MAGWITCH:
Once more, give it mouth!
NARRATOR:
The man had Pip by the chin whilst he glared and growled. His teeth chattered in his head, his fingers were cold. Pip was dreadfully afraid, but answered all the same.
PIP:
Pip. Pip, sir
MAGWITCH:
Show us where you live, point out the place!
NARRATOR:
Pip pointed to the village, to a clump of alder-trees about a mile or more from the church. The man looked to where Pip pointed, then picked him up, turned him upside down and emptied the boy’s pockets. Finding only a piece of bread he turned Pip the right way up again and put him on a high tombstone, then began devouring the bread.
MAGWITCH:
You young dog, what fat cheeks you ha’ got. Darn me if I could eat ‘em, and if I han’t half a mind to ‘t!
NARRATOR:
The man was shacking his head threateningly, Pip held on tightly to the tombstone to stop himself from not only falling off, but crying.
PIP:
Please don’t sir!
MAGWITCH:
Now then, lookee here! Where’s your mother?
NARRATOR:
Pip pointed again, this time to the graves.
PIP:
There sir!
NARRATOR:
The man gave a start, went to run, then looked over his shoulder. Pip repeated timidly:
PIP:
There sir! Where it’s written “Also Georgiana,” that’s my mother.
MAGWITCH:
Oh, and is that your father, alonger your mother?
PIP:
Yes sir, him too; late of this parish.