Ollie McGee Have you seen walking through the village A Man with downcast eyes and haggard face? That is my husband who‚ by secret cruelty Never to be told‚ robbed me of my youth and my beauty; Till at last‚ wrinkled and with yellow teeth‚ And with broken pride and shameful humility‚ I sank into the grave. But what think you gnaws at my husband’s heart? The face of what I was‚ the face of what
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requirements for her class. “Monologues will be due Monday morning.” I heard Ms. White say. My nerves could not catch a break. After class‚ I went home and wrote my monologue. I did not want to present my monologue to the class. I was shy and knew no one in my class. I told myself repeatedly that I could do it. Monday morning was here before I knew it. The feeling of dread filled me‚ and I wanted to back out‚ receive my zero with pride. When I arrived at school‚ my monologue clutched firmly in my hand
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“Toadstools‚ and butterscotch!? What a horrid combination! Why on earth would anyone wish to consume that together?” I flung down the folded (crumpled) letter. The first letter I received from my dearest friend Leonora in months‚ and she talked about how she and her mentor made a new potion with toadstool and butterscotch. Disgusting. “What are ye huffin’ about now‚ child?” My short‚ round mentor shuffled past me with her arms full of some large birds that twitched unnaturally. She was the kind
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saluting enthusiastically to their red-robed leaders under the yellow star; the boat crammed with coughing throats and calloused hands; blood washed away by the rains. She talked about things I had only ever heard about from the kind of tragic monologues that hot-shot actors won Oscars for and only shed real tears for at the podium. But unlike the performers’ melodramatic shouts of magniloquent misdirected emotion and the onion tears I associated with this kind of language‚ she seemed perfectly
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Dramatic Intro Flashing lights were blinding my vision‚ and emergency sirens were screaming in my ears‚ both making it hard to process the situation I was in. I looked around praying to find something familiar that could possibly give me guess as to what was happening‚ but was interrupted by sharp creaking of a metal door‚ which robbed my attention. I looked towards the direction the sound was coming from and was shocked to see the face of a man‚ I tried moving but couldn’t. Confused I asked him
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As I was chasing after Cassio‚ he ran up to Desdemona and gently pressed against her throat with a knife‚ I then stopped immediately and told him "Cassio?!... Please don’t hurt my Desdemona‚ it’s between me and you. He then continues to stare at me while slowly backing up to the door. As he got closer to the door‚ I start to run towards him‚ Cassio then used the knife to wound Desdemona in her left arm‚ and ran off outside. As I’m running up to her‚ Emilia enters and sees the blood pouring down
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It is under much strain that I withhold the flood of tears behind my eyes. For if the levy bursts‚ I fear I may meet a fate much like dear Ophelia. My dear Ophelia… my friend‚ my sister… I am aghast by your drowning‚ there was so much more for you in this world‚ you were like a blossoming flower‚ emerging into the light for all to see… and now‚ without even slowly wilting away‚ you are gone‚ and I am alone. Oh God‚ why would you take her and leave me so alone‚ and so soon after our own father’s
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The glazed tiles reflected on my tired eyes not allowing to be opened. I slowly started blinking‚ harmfully blinking my eyes to see where I am. I scrunched my eyes at the bright shining light of the operation theatre. Imagining what all I had gone through in the past hours‚ I felt relieved. Thanking god to keep me alive‚ and letting me save the lives of those innocent people who have suffered so much. The nurse approached me and inquired about my health. It was more of a routine‚ and I was dragging
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As I walked into the barbers for my weekly shave I notice the barber sharpening his razors. The colour drains from his face‚ and though I can not see it‚ I know he’s trembling. I almost laugh‚ it’s like he wants to be caught. I begin to remove my belt‚ as it holds my gun and my cartridges‚ the weapon that killed his allies‚ and notice him eyeing it nervously. I stop myself from smiling as I hang it onto the hook in the wardrobe and rest my hat on top. As usual‚ I hung up my bullet studded belt‚
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PROLOGUE PROLOGUE Only fools became starfighter pilots‚ and my mother was one of them. It is dumb to put yourself at so much risk‚ because you may end up as a flaming fireball through space. Like my mother. You would never know if the Sinats would attack‚ or ambush‚ or raid. My point is‚ piloting a starfighter is very‚ very dangerous. And of course‚ my mother happened to be one of them; a flying‚ dangerous maniac. By my fathers definition‚ she was extra stupid‚ but I always thought that flying a
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