Kirsten Riiber

Ensemble since 2012


The lights dim on the left half of the stage. MRS.WEBB disappears.

EMILY: I didn’t realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed. Take me back-up the hill- to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover’s Corners…Mama and Papa. Good-by to clocks ticking…and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths…and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.

She looks toward the stage manager and asks abruptly, through her tears.

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?- every, every minute?



KIRSTEN: (from the last row in the house at the top of her lungs) WHAT???!!!!!!!

(A sizable porcelain vase is hurdled toward the stage and shatters. KIRSTEN, a twenty-five-ish lanky looking creature, chest heaving, keeps her wild eyes locked on the man playing STAGE MANAGER. All at once she cartwheels onto the stage, picks up a sharp piece of porcelain and holds it to the actor’s throat. After an exceptionally long moment of eye contact, she kisses him deeply.)

AUDIENCE MEMBER 1: (whispered) Hey, what’s going on here?! I paid top dollar for these seats!

AUDIENCE MEMBER 2: Don’t look at me! Here I was thinking this was a bio page.

AUDIENCE MEMBER 1: You look lovely in that dress. I meant to say that earlier.

AUDIENCE MEMBER 2: You’re saying it now, though. You’re saying it now.

Stuff by Kirsten

these are only the beginnings

later on the ladder

moving in unison. staying in place

poem for a captive audience


Somebody, and I'm not naming names, but somebody ::cough::cough:: should really really try and pay attention to this play

letter for the landlord