Martha's Monologues in the Ariadne Play in Netflix Dark

MARTHA gets ready before the Ariadne play

I have created extensive recaps of every episode of Dark. To see all my recaps of Dark, go here. 

Monologue 1

My mother told me about the old world before the flood. She said it had been of a different kind. Foul. She would braid my hair and recount harrowing tales, of my father and of demons from the underworlds. She said all is forgiven but nothing forgotten. Then the darkness in her eyes was greater than usual. And her words flowed like waves. She said all was well now the way it was. That all occupied its own space, in the past as in the here and now.

When she spoke in this manner, something would overcome her. She would pull my braids tightly as if to punish me for something that dwelled in a place deep within her. Something that tugged at her from the center, like a hunger that could not be satisfied. She spoke of yesterday as though it were before her very eyes. As if today was but a veil that shrouded in shadow all that was real to her. The old world came to haunt her like a ghost that whispered to her in a dream how to erect the new world, stone by stone.

From then on, I knew that nothing changes. That all things remain as before. The spinning wheel turns, round and round in a circle. One fate tied to the next. A thread, red like blood, that cleaves together all our deeds. One cannot unravel the knots. But they can be severed. He severed ours, with the sharpest blade. Yet something remains behind that cannot be severed. An invisible bond. On many a night he tugs at it. And then I wake with a start, knowing that nothing ceases to be. That all remains.

Monologue 2

Take this. It will guide you. You have to go deep inside, to the center. He is waiting there in the shadows. Half human half beast. You must be quick. Aim straight for the heart. This bond we tie now, promise me you will never sever it. 

Nothing but darkness surrounds me. Eternally lurking shadows. I have not eaten in days. My eyes are turning black. The end is nearing. Just as once he descended into the maze,  I now descend into mine. 

Now I stand before you. No king's daughter. No man's wife. No brother's sister. A loose end in time. And so we all die alike. No matter into which house we are born. No matter which gown. Whether we grace the earth briefly or for a long time. I alone tie my bonds. Whether I have extended hands or slapped them. We all face the same end. Those above have long forgotten us. They do not judge us. In death, I am all alone. And my only judge is me.