Cold Sweat Monologues

This is a monologue we've been working on in class, it feels too much like a story, but I'm not sure. I'd like some pointers on what I could do, or just some corrections straight up would be nice, thank you!

It took me three times to get use to riding a bike and after I got it down, we decided to head out down the block to Independence park on the bikes. This was the only park in the city that had a mix of a skate park and traditional park. We would usually hang out in the playground since we did not skate. When we got to front of the park we set our bikes down by a wooden fence that separated the grass area and parking lot. Isabel and Bianca had rushed out to the swings and I did some snooping around the park. I was always curious about my surroundings when I went out since I did not have that luxury to be out or play when I would have wanted to. I loved taking in the scenery, the beauty of the nature, and the flowers. They were my favorite thing about visiting Independence park. I was walking around this fence that surrounded the playground until I had reached the restrooms. I noticed this huge brown paper bag sitting on this phone booth. I was secretly freaking out cause I was curious to what was inside. My mom had always told me not be a traviesa (naughty) and that I should never touch what doesn’t belong to me so I rushed off to Isabel and Bianca to tell them about the bag. I figured I needed some partners in crime for this. When I got to the swings I was very out of breath I was a pretty chubby kid growing up, but that still did not stop me from running, I enjoyed it a lot actually. As gathered myself together and took in a deep breath Isabel yelled, “What is it? Why are you running so fast?” I looked up to her and said, “There is a brown on phone booth just sitting there. It’s so strange no one is here at the park and it is just there. Why?” She gave me a look as if I had said the most uninteresting thing on the planet and continued to say, “Okay? Why does this

In the cold December, when the land is white with snow, my children’s children go to play on Bloody Ice. Its incarnadined surface is a source of mystery, another one of our town’s curiosities. Sixty years ago—but how my memory dims!—I saw the red take hold. I saw wicked things rising from the lake, and when they left, they took my brother with them.

I woke up at 7AM to continuous, banging on the front door. Next thing I know ten policemen have barged into my room. I’ve not been able to stop replaying the words that came out of my mom’s mouth. They were quivering but sharp, not like the normal sweet and soft sound of her voice in the morning.

Should I do it? My heart sits in my throat as a man and boy come into view. Distant enough that I can’t make out their faces, but too close for my liking. I’ve been here before. This is not good.

It was a cold day in November 1959. Fog was covering the ground of the cemetery but every once in a while, the drops of rain and people passing by would separate the fog to reveal soft mushy ground, covered with a light layer of snow. You could hear the thump every time someone took a step, as everyone in the area gathered around a gravestone. “Shame she died” said a cop. His uniform was soaked and covered in food stains and he looked like he hadn’t exercised in a year.

It’s been going on for weeks, already over 400 kids have been infected. The floors and wall are a mess, the janitors can barely keep up with them. It’s spitballs galore. There has never been an outbreak like this at Campbell. We’ve only ever heard of these happening.

I still remember the dreadful day of pain, seared into my memory for all of eternity. The salty smell of blood filled the dark and smoky air. Gunshots rang through the air, echoing through the trees; yet the white flag flew high above us. Bullets rained from the sky knocking leaves and needles from the tree limbs and cut perfect circles through our tepees. An infant cried out hidden in the blood of his dead mother. Then, in the shower of deadly metal, a silver raindrop passed through the infant’s head and for one fateful second, everything became silent. Yet the rain of death persisted causing even more fatalities. I remember running as fast as my legs could carry me, trying to keep up with the rest of our people while doing my best to hide from the rain of death falling from the heavens.

“I wake up in a cold sweat during the night from a dream that keeps reoccurring. I can’t sleep without being awakened from

Thanks there Mary, we’ll just see what happens! Hope today is a nifty one, I went to Rice’s this morning and it was a bit chilly, no bike riding today. Also I thought Chrissy was coming back today, it’s not till next Tuesday. What a tragedy to have to be in Hawaii for over 2 weeks lol. Off for more fun talk to you later

Hello Robyn! I've read about running, it is not simple at all, I thought running is just left foot, right foot, breath. But actually, it's science!

Later that night, as I was falling asleep, I heard muffled voices outside of my bedroom door, and suddenly the door was kicked in by police officers. I jumped out of my bed and ran over to my oldest sister Christine. She held me and tried to shield me from what was happening. I glanced up from Christine’s chest and saw my Uncle in handcuffs and being frog marched out of our conjoining rooms. Then a female police officer walked over to us and in a soft, sweet voice she said “Everything will be alright,” then proceeded to guide us to the living room. We sat on the couch and the female officer turned the television on for us. Christine told me to try and get some sleep. I listened to her, and I didn’t wake up until the next morning.

Frosty, bitter, crisp air filled my lungs, It wasn’t supposed to happen, maybe it's her fault. Intense, vivid, sharp, the language of tongues, It wasn’t supposed to happen, keep this secret in the vault! Flustered, warm and naive, heading towards harm.

On October 13th, 2013 I met the man of my dreams his name is Justin Fever, and he forever changed my life. I knew him in high school, he was the quiet guy and I was the popular gal. We actually went to the same college, and he sent me “DMs” and always Tweeted Me. His messages stated, ….. In college we didn’t have any classes, but he asked me out for dinner, and I said yeah, sure. We met for dinner at Sparrows Tavern in New York, highly expensive, but scrumptious. He made a joke about us two having a thing for each other. I panicked, and said “no” casually, because history has taught me that only bad things happen from there. As I slowly walked to my car on the way home, I relived every moment of this magical evening. He could be my soul mate, I thought.

“The dream started with me in a place called Oceania in 1984, but the world