The Sky Pours Gently Here (by the Interfaith Youth Team)

A note from the author: The Sky Pours Gently Here is a screenplay deeply rooted in religious influence, meant to depict the life of inquisitive youths and the hardships that they have faced.

The Sky Pours Gently Here
CHARACTERS

NOOR (11):
A girl who collects the smell of rainwater in jam jars and dreams of forgotten spirits. Her school uniform shirt is always buttoned to the top, more of a defiance than a tribute – no one can tell. Her speech is part scripture, part schoolyard riddle. She bites her nails into the shape of crescent moons and remembers her birth as if it happened last Thursday. She is convinced rooftops are closer to heaven because angels enjoy eavesdropping.

ISA (9):
A boy whose arm is constantly sore from wrapping it around the old radio that once belonged to his brother. Perhaps it still contains his whispers from the other side. He does not speak until silence becomes unbearable. His eyes are soft and green, and his eyebrows are broken. He folds paper cranes during class and buries them in his pillowcase. He makes an effort to never tie his shoe laces; no one knows why.

THE BROTHER (V.O.):
A voice shaped by a grey static pitch. His words seep through radio frequencies like holy oil through worn cloth. He once made Isa laugh so hard that milk came out of his nose. Now he appears only between bursts of white noise. He speaks in fragmented riddles that blur the line between warnings and blessings. Maybe he is a spirit, an angel, or a dua that has been answered; only Allah knows. 

SETTING
A rooftop in a Middle Eastern town. A metal bucket half-filled with rainwater sits center stage. A rusted antenna. A broken radio. Chalk markings on the ground. A school uniform shirt folded on a ledge, no wind shapes it. The sun is always either setting or about to rise.

A NOTE FROM THE PLAYRIGHT

This work contains some Arabic words, mostly pertaining to Islamic theology like adhan (call to prayer) and dua (supplication). They are left untranslated intentionally to preserve their cultural and spiritual significance that the characters have with them. They are meant to be felt and not fully explained, just like a drop of rain. 

SCENE ONE

(NOOR kneels beside the bucket, drawing a circle around it with blue chalk. ISA sits near the edge of the roof, tuning the radio.)

NOOR
If you draw a perfect circle around water, it won’t leave. That’s what the woman at the market said. She had no teeth. Too many rings. Could’ve been a liar. Could’ve been a prophet.

(She finishes the circle and sits back on her heels.)

I think the water listens. It wants to stay.

ISA
(quiet)
It doesn’t.

NOOR
Then why does it stay?

ISA
Because it doesn’t know how to leave.

(A drop of rain falls into the bucket. Drip. The bucket echoes.)

NOOR
You ever think sound is a Jinn trying to get back in?

ISA
No.

NOOR
Maybe you should.

(She stares into the water.)

If I fell in, would you save me?

ISA
It’s not deep enough.

NOOR
That’s not what I asked.

SCENE TWO

(NOOR picks up a folded school shirt from the ledge and smooths it carefully, like she’s holding something holy.)

NOOR
This was his favorite. He wore it the day the imam asked him to raise the adhan. I told him to fix the buttons. They’re still loose. They never fell off.

(She holds up a small piece of thread.)

Funny. The thread holds, but the boy didn’t.

ISA
(sharper than usual)
Why do you keep bringing him up?

NOOR
Because he’s still here.

ISA
He’s not.

NOOR
He is. In the wind. In your radio. In the way you flinch when someone says his name.

ISA
(small)
Stop.

(NOOR gently places the shirt inside the circle around the bucket.)

SCENE THREE

(ISA fiddles with the radio dial. A dull hiss. Static. A faint voice rises.)

THE BROTHER (V.O.)
When the torrents come, the jinn flee to the conifers. 

(Issa presses his crusted ears on the radio quickly, trying to catch the message he thinks he hears)

NOOR
What did he say?

ISA
I don’t know. Something about Jinn.

NOOR
Maybe he meant you.

ISA (confused)
What’s that supposed to mean?

NOOR
Nothing. Everything. Maybe one day you will know.

(The radio sputters and dies.)

ISA
He used to say things twice when he wanted you to really listen.

NOOR
Then maybe he’s waiting for you to hear it the first time.

SCENE FOUR

(NOOR lies on the rooftop. She stretches her arms wide and begins to draw chalk wings beneath them.)

NOOR
They say angels appear to children first. Grown-ups think we’re making it up. But they just forgot how to see.

ISA
Or maybe they got tired of being wrong.

NOOR
You think he became an angel?

ISA
I think he became quiet.

NOOR
Maybe that’s what angels are. Just quiet things that listen.

ISA
Then maybe you’re an angel.

NOOR
I talk too much.

ISA
Maybe that’s just how your wings sound.

(Isa pictures his sister with large beautiful wings)

SCENE FIVE

(ISA cradles the radio like it’s fragile.)

ISA
It still smells like him. Sweat. Coconut oil. Ink.

NOOR
Ink?

ISA
He used to mark the Quran with questions in the margins. Said Allah liked being challenged.

NOOR
He was brave.

ISA
He was loud. Now he’s static.

(Pause.)

It only plays when it rains.

NOOR
Then we wait for rain.

SCENE SIX

(A distant roll of thunder. Noor is drawing constellations in the chalk near her knees. Isa is pressing his ear against the radio.)

NOOR
I used to think angels only had two wings. But then I saw a painting where they had six. Two to fly, two to cover their faces, and two to cover their feet.

ISA
Why cover their feet?

NOOR
So they don’t forget they were once allowed to walk among us.

ISA
Would you cover your feet?

NOOR
No. I’d walk barefoot across clouds. Let Allah see my blisters.

ISA
He already knows they're there.

NOOR
But I want Him to see.

SCENE SIX

(NOOR sits with her knees to her chest. ISA joins her. The sky has darkened slightly.)

NOOR
I had a dream. A stairwell made of light. You stood at the bottom. You looked up. It kept going. Forever.

ISA
Did I climb?

NOOR
Yes.

ISA
And?

NOOR
You turned around. Asked if I was coming.

ISA
Were you?

NOOR
I woke up.

ISA
That’s rude.

(They both laugh. Smiles that made their cracked lips bleed.)

SCENE SEVEN

(ISA stands over the bucket. He holds the radio one last time.)

NOOR
You don’t have to.

ISA
I know.

(He drops the radio into the bucket. A soft splash. The wires weaken)

ISA
He’s not in there. Not anymore.

NOOR
Then where?

ISA
Here. In this. In you.

(NOOR draws one final circle around him in chalk. Wind begins to stir.)

NOOR
Ameen.

(Blackout.)

(The sound of rain echoes in an empty jar. Drip.)