Monologue Short Story

It wasn’t always easy. As a matter of fact, it was never easy for us. I’m sure you’d have agreed. Surely it was tough for you to let us go, but I want you to know that I’m thankful you did.

The horn has already sounded and I’m still running. I can feel my blood pulsing in my ears. The sounds of useless advice feels the air. I continue to run. I come across a cave and ran into it. I gasp in shock and as I walk into a lab filled with mindless people editing videos. A film crew rushes at me and says, “If you were able to be in Divergent, which character would you be?” I shake my head in confusion. I attempt to back up slowly, but they grab me and place me in front of a computer and yell, “Edit!” The slam the headphones on my head and everything becomes a blur.

Hey, how are you all doing out there ? Well, me I have just been trying to stay healthy and keep my head high so I can make it back to the only thing I have and that’s you all “my family”. I try not to think about you all too much because when I think about what's going on out there it makes me mad and I am so tired ‘’omg’’. We don't eat that much during war but when we get back to the base we eat pretty good, well actually really good. I notice that a lot of people donate food and medicine and first-aid kits too. I just got an Lee-Enfield rifle and it's a pretty nice gun, it can hold 10 bullets. I just been waiting to use it on, Germany, Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman Empire against the Allied forces of Great Britain, and there are some

So uh.... for some reason everyone used a different size for the collab... so I ended up messing around trying to fix the sizes and crap... Oh god. I don't actually know what the original size was so sorry if its a bit off... (Also, Kanji was really blurry... like really blurry... so I tried to sharpen him ._. sorry...

Thornton Wilder, a Wisconsin native, is the writer of the Pulitzer Prize winner play Our Town. In Our Town, Wilder tells the story of a town in Grover’s Corners, New Hampshire, and the daily lives of the inhabitants. In the play, the author uses minimal props and scenery as well as including a main character known as the Stage Manager that has the ability to break the fourth wall, allowing him to talk to the audience. This factor of talking to the audience is a major component of making the public a part of the town. Throughout the play, there are many instances in which the Stage Manager uses various cues as well as dialogues to incorporate the audience and develop an intimate relationship to create a true sense of “our town”.

Nothing was heard, only the water droplets that drops from the crack ceiling. Making a small puddle on the ground, having mice roaming around the place.

I have something I need to tell you. It feels weird announcing this, because nothing has changed. I feel exactly as I’ve always felt, and I’m still the same person I’ve always been, I’ve just accepted a few things. It  almost feels pointless to say, because it seems so obvious to me, but I think I should tell you anyway. I don’t know how exactly to explain myself, because it’s how I’ve always felt, but I’ll try help you to understand without writing down every thought I’ve ever had.

The cafeteria had always been the noisiest place in Geochang Middle School. Maybe because students were too busy studying and paying attention in class. Maybe because the 5000 square feet of space was the only region in the facility where they could breathe and let out the sparks that had been dimmed inside of them for so long.

I slowly walked into the dark and daunting room. She has beckoned for me once again. She always has and she always will, no matter how many years we spend apart. She was like a drug to me. I hated the addiction but would easily fall back into the habit as soon as she would offer herself to me.

“Concentrate, Aiden!” He clapped his hands. “Please you really need to focus. This is important. Children have to be careful when they venture into the forest. There’s a pack of wild, voracious wolves with gaping mouths reeling with fangs and forked tongues each as thick as my wrist. They roam the woods, ten feet or more, and then hung in the trees, breathing raggedly tasting your scent, considering how best to devour you. As a matter of fact only, the other day several of them snatched a baby elf out of its sleeping mother’s arms and thrashed the poor little dear to pieces.

My drama paragraph: Your mother's "trying to help" days are coming to an end, and the time is coming to let it go. This is a final attempt to reach you saying everything conceivable down to the last atom of my energy. Being strong-minded (in your head) hasn't allowed your heart and spirit to listen and hear the pleas from your children, Grandpa, sister, and parents!!! If this last "try to help" as your "fairy godmother" doesn't work, your parents' twilight years will be peaceful, but with deep sorrow.

I push the cracked oak wood tavern door open. Eyes sweep across the room falling on me. Wearing a dark hood and cloak concealing all but my piercing ice blue eyes and half of my nose. My wide chest, wiry arms, thick legs and my two swords also hidden away underneath my cloak. I’ve been growing my beard out, short cropped it isn’t much to deal with. The tavern is laid thick with the scents of; stale alcohol, fresh bread, and charred savory meat roasting on the spit in the center of the tavern. In the opposite corner of the tavern sits a table bathed in shadows with four armed individuals.

I slam my locker and turn to my best friend, Kelly Walter. "Please tell me again why we had that dreaded geography test today." I said. "Cheer up, Ally. It was pretty easy. You're stressing over nothing." She said.

That night I didn’t know what lied ahead for me, I just wanted to clear my head from the tragedy that was left for me.  The one thing I can’t decided is which took the bigger toll on me the physical damages or the mental.  Here we will jump in to the horrific things that have happened to me. You may not believe a single word I utter. I tell you this really did happen, this story is true, and I’m not insane.  Let me introduce myself before we get into the story.  I am Izzy Hallis.

This is the story of Ben and why I consider myself as, “refurbished” and see if I hit the bulls eye as well.