Dramatic Monologue
That day was not an ordinary day, I knew that from the start- but what I didn’t anticipate was that my whole week would have the same feeling. A flutter feeling that you get about something that you have already done before, feeling like it’s about to be the first time that you have done it. The ring of the phone was the first thing I heard that day, the ring that belonged to the call that started it all.
‘Hello,’ I mumbled as I was still half a sleep.
‘Hello,’ the person replied, there voice sounded gravely and rough. ‘Is this Detective Sharon Butler?’
‘Yes it is; may I ask who is speaking?’
‘I am the superintendent of Emerald garden Psychiatric Institution,’ this caused my heart to palpitate rapidly. ‘Inspector Marcuse Hunt asked me to …show more content…
‘I have sent a car to come and pick you up. It’ll be there in 30 minutes so make sure you are ready with your bags.’ Then all I heard was the buzz from the other end of the call being put down, signalling that the conversation was over.
Jadedly, I got up out of my salubrious bed and got dressed into my normal work attire which consisted of an off white blouse, layered with a black jacket that was paired with trousers and emerald red flats. In wake of me finishing brushing my teeth I made my way down the opal steps of my apartment with a bag in hand and onto the street of blossom lane, where the car that would take me to Emerald Garden was parked.
‘Hello Miss,’ said the attractive driver as he emerged from the streamline car. ‘You wouldn’t happen to be Detective Sharon Butler, would you?’ With only 30 minutes between them that was the second time someone had asked me that …show more content…
‘If only all of my pickups were this easy.’
‘If only,’ I murmured whilst letting myself into the car.
Once the driver was back in his seat he told me that his name was Ernie Bloom which reminded me of the early blooming of plants during the spring like the crested iris. The crested iris is a pale lavender flower with a white patch and orange or yellow crest; not only are they beautiful but they were my Mother’s favourite flowers as she said that they reminded her of me, “because they pretty much take care of themselves.” I never knew if this was a compliment but that doesn’t matter now because it is simply a memory of her.
I was thankful that the driver had woken me from my haze but also resentful that it was by a controversial comment. ‘So what is a pretty girl like you going to a funny farm for?’
Oh Ernie I was only just getting to like you. ‘What did you just call it?’
‘A funny farm,’ he chuckled not noticing the solemn stare that I was giving his reflection in the rear view mirror. ‘You know the loony bin on the
‘Hello,’ I mumbled as I was still half a sleep.
‘Hello,’ the person replied, there voice sounded gravely and rough. ‘Is this Detective Sharon Butler?’
‘Yes it is; may I ask who is speaking?’
‘I am the superintendent of Emerald garden Psychiatric Institution,’ this caused my heart to palpitate rapidly. ‘Inspector Marcuse Hunt asked me to …show more content…
‘I have sent a car to come and pick you up. It’ll be there in 30 minutes so make sure you are ready with your bags.’ Then all I heard was the buzz from the other end of the call being put down, signalling that the conversation was over.
Jadedly, I got up out of my salubrious bed and got dressed into my normal work attire which consisted of an off white blouse, layered with a black jacket that was paired with trousers and emerald red flats. In wake of me finishing brushing my teeth I made my way down the opal steps of my apartment with a bag in hand and onto the street of blossom lane, where the car that would take me to Emerald Garden was parked.
‘Hello Miss,’ said the attractive driver as he emerged from the streamline car. ‘You wouldn’t happen to be Detective Sharon Butler, would you?’ With only 30 minutes between them that was the second time someone had asked me that …show more content…
‘If only all of my pickups were this easy.’
‘If only,’ I murmured whilst letting myself into the car.
Once the driver was back in his seat he told me that his name was Ernie Bloom which reminded me of the early blooming of plants during the spring like the crested iris. The crested iris is a pale lavender flower with a white patch and orange or yellow crest; not only are they beautiful but they were my Mother’s favourite flowers as she said that they reminded her of me, “because they pretty much take care of themselves.” I never knew if this was a compliment but that doesn’t matter now because it is simply a memory of her.
I was thankful that the driver had woken me from my haze but also resentful that it was by a controversial comment. ‘So what is a pretty girl like you going to a funny farm for?’
Oh Ernie I was only just getting to like you. ‘What did you just call it?’
‘A funny farm,’ he chuckled not noticing the solemn stare that I was giving his reflection in the rear view mirror. ‘You know the loony bin on the