book written by‚ what he considered an old friend of his‚ Bill; little did I know‚ Bill was going to change my life forever. Competitiveness runs through my blood so when I heard the school was hosting a monologue competition I did not hesitate to sign up. To my surprise‚ it had to be a monologue from one of the plays written by this Bill character that my theatre teacher adored so much. I irked his plays due to the fact that they seem to be written in a different language; however‚ I was still persistent
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house‚ Tuesday‚ my cousin Coffee and his little sister’s house‚ and finally‚ Auntie Violet and Aunt Persimmon’s apartment. I sat up onto August’s saddle‚ hauled my huge backpack full of my next week’s clothing‚ a map that seemed to cover the entire world‚ money‚ and food. I kissed my parents goodbye‚ and set out into the morning‚ which was surprisingly chilly. As August and I raced through the sunflower fields‚ I got more and more excited for the race. I hoped I would win‚ so that my parents would
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Saturnalia Everyone together having fun and connecting. A regular occurence at the end of the week. A mass ensemble of great colors and sounds. The vibrations move through you feeling it rumble to your core. Everyone so close you can feel each others warmth. Friends meeting friends and making more. The smell of comradery like you’ve just won a war. Celebrating that you’re living an intoxicating life. Violet I am abrasive or so you say. Others are basking in the sun yet I look to the
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MONOLOGUE FOR AN ONION: AN ANALYSIS Cutting an onion breaks cells in its skin causing a reaction that results to the formation of volatile sulfur compound which‚ when mixed with tears coating our eyes‚ becomes sulfuric acid. This triggers the tear ducts to produce more tears to alleviate the imbalance in acidity the irritant has caused; the longer the eyes are exposed to the acid the greater the quantity of tears produced. Sue Kwock Kim uses this certain property of an onion to tackle a specific
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Unhuman Ever since I emerged from the womb‚ I was different. And it’s not the ‘gonna change the world’ different or having a disorder of some kind. I am different in the way I look. My mother got one look at me‚ after being born‚ and screamed with hatred‚ literally throwing me across the room. Seriously‚ I’m not joking about that. The doctors were even avoiding to touch me as I lay sprawled on the floor‚ crying. They believed I was diseased and I was of the devil’s creation‚ not human at all. Only
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His finger reached down to press the button and began to speak‚ “Hello‚ citizens of The Colony‚ do not feel panicked even though this is not the usual person speaking to you. Indeed‚ I am not Mother. But‚ I am here to inform you about the different world above us‚ The Outside. It is a place where people can feel independent. It is said that many decades earlier‚ the Outside became too polluted for a whole population to live in‚ so with no other choice‚ seventy-five percent of the population moved into
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"Name" Chris said slouching in his giant new cushioned chair‚ with a green tattered notebook in one hand and a large cup of steaming coffee in the other. He was a large guy about six two and it was strange to see him so tired. He was always the one to make the first joke and was always full of energy. his dark brown hair had been made a mess from sleeping on it and his eyes drooped. It had been the early hours of the morning and he wansn’t in the mood for jokes none of us were. "Maggie Evens
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Dedicated to my friends and family‚ and to all the authors of the great books that I have read. On the third day of September‚ in the town of Maplerose‚ a girl was riding home on a bike of the finest‚ fiery‚ fall‚ orange. She was zipping down the leaf covered streets‚ like a floating gypsy‚ because her bike blended in so well. Alice Mint was the girl biking down the streets. It was the first day of school‚ and she had just made her daily trip to the town’s public library. Now she
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It wasn’t even this crowded the day my mother sold me for a bronze kettle. "Hurry‚ Schalane! The train is about to start!" cries Erik. Struggling to find his face through the sea of bobbing heads separating us‚ I falter for a moment. A wisp of his charcoal brown hair vanishes in the hurling throng. The thirty people behind me shuffle with impatience‚ dark scowls painted upon their faces. I should step back and let them ahead of me. That’s what a caring person would do. In my experience‚ however
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Monologue analysis. The recreation of Irene Ruddock’s character in Lady of Letters relies hugely on maintaining the quality of her idiosyncratic ways. Her prejudices and her naivety amongst other things are all relevant traits‚ and in my recreative piece I found that keeping with Bennett’s structure‚ form and use of language ensured that Miss Ruddock’s character remained unhampered with. This artless narrator seems very unaware of her social situation in the sense that she doesn’t seem lonely
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