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Monologue. :) - Writers Nook

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MAN: (He rests on a park bench beneath a streetlight. It is evening. There are no other beings present; the only other sources of life are the crickets crying out mating calls in the background. The man is dressed in a tan trench coat, whatever beneath it indiscernible. He is clutching something in his hands, harshly, as if it were much more meaningful than any other thing at that moment. He stares down at his hands.) I took it from her, because she wouldn’t give it to me. (It’s not quite clear to whom he’s speaking to.) I asked her for it. I begged her for it. I cast away my dignity and I nearly choked on my pride; I fell onto my knees in front of her, and I took her hands in mine. I held her hands into the skin of my face and I inhaled the perfume of my dearly beloved. (He inhales through his nose, as if in remembrance.) She smelled like musky daffodils. Smells. Did smell. (He toys with the item in his hand, kneading it about between his palms.) I remember. Everything. I remember the chill of her voice soaking down my spine and marinating my senses. The taste of her cold, listless lips, pressed against my own. She sleeps with her eyes open. Slept. Sleeps. She sings with her mouth clamped closed and her lungs unoccupied. I can hear her still. Her voice is like cinnamon. Only sweeter, only better. Only not a spice locked in a jar, set in a cabinet, above a counter in a kitchen. Only locked in my cerebrum, kept safe in my music box. It plays her song over and over. (He hums an odd, erratic melody to himself.) Give and take, give and take, it’s the game we play, isn’t it? Take and take. Desire. Seduction. Refraining. Eruption. I wanted it so badly, Stella, so I took it. I’m not sorry. I have it now. I have everything I’ve ever wanted. Every item that has haunted my dreams no longer persists in the dream-world. It’s safe now, sure. Certainly. You love me. And the world falls back into order. After the waves of crimson slither away, there, in the chaos and debris, is you. All of your icy splendor – you await your prince beneath glass casing, but your prince has already come. And gone. Come and go, it’s the game we played, wasn’t it? Don’t you remember Stella? Come and go. Little high, little low. (He slowly and carefully opens his hands to reveal something red and fleshy. His hands are stained.) I wanted your heart, Stella, so I took it. I asked you to love me. And you did. You do. I won’t forget. I remember. You were warm but your heart is cold. I’m keeping it warm for you. I won’t forget. I won’t regret. It seems that the human race did not evolve to be very charitable. ‘All through the day, I me mine, I me mine, I me mine.’ Maybe I should have asked nicer. (He smiles down at the heart.) Then again, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. (He continues to hum the melody, coaxing a thumb over the organ in his hands.)


Wow very very good use of vocab and use of what the man is doing! I admit it kinda disturbed me at the end but was very well written and makes me want to see it actually performed. Very very good job!


I loved it. I imagined it well, and the vocabulary used through out was nicely organized. The repetition of the word hands let you focus and yet think dimly of them from the beginning. I adore it all. I hope to read something of yours in the genre you've chosen.


This is something that would be awesome to perform. Awesome job.