Murder Mystery Monologue

As a young boy I watched as my organ flowers disappear and I asked myself “will I see them again?” The space was trembling under its weight and I didn’t think anyone would understand how I was feeling. Organ flowers all decayed, and I will see them again.

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.

Narrator walks to table with handcuffs on and sits down. A small light hangs above him. Detective closes door and walks to table sitting down on the opposite side of Narrator.

but it is connected to money. There is no victim in it but the villain

Juror 5: Ahhh, this is it! Now that the verdict has ended with a ‘not guilty’, I feel as if a rock’s been lifted from my heart! (Walks to the left) Ha!

Short Story/Scene In a little town in California, Littletown ville, is a town known for baseball. They had a little league called the Littletown ville Jaguars. They didn’t have practice today for the little league all stars, but joe’s friends had decided to practice. “Hey billy do you want to play catch?” said Joe.

Jessie slightly blushed. Irish was trying to push his buttons, and she had a genuine talent at it. "Facing me at firsts of course and then who knows where it would lead, but yeah, you would have your hands full." He teased her back not wanting to be the only one as excited as he teenage boy having his prom night at the playboy mansion.

I awoke to beams of a dozen spotlights, my vision gradually adjusted to the brilliant white light which illuminated everything around me. The realization that I had fallen asleep during rehearsal caused my eyes to widen in utter shock and confusion.

The rising sun was orient in the blue sky. Dewdrops sparkle in the morning sun. Someone patted me on the back. The man whipped out a knife. He was a fat clumsy and dirty looking man. His hair had been badly cut and the ends were uneven. The sight made me stop dead in my tracks. Fear stole into my heart. He cowed me with his threats. The smell of smoke clung to his clothes.On the one hand, he had pressed and held both my hands. On the other hand, he continually stroked my body. He just bear down on me with all his strength so I was unable to repel and move. The rough cloth pricked my skin.Then I just lost it and started screaming. "Stop it !" I bellowed at him. My word made no impression on him. No one was on the scene at the time. Why he did it? What was his intention in doing that? How could this happen to me? Why should it be me? After that, every step I took sent the pain shooting up my thighs. I could not breathe. As I straightened up, the ache in my back grew worse. I bore the pain without a word of complaint. I thought it would

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”.

The air reeked of alcohol, the intoxicated breaths of young people colliding together over drunken slurs to create one distinct scent. She kept her head low as she made her way through the maze made by the seemingly endless crowd. Full of regrets, she was doing all she could to get out of there, the distraction turning out to be nothing more than a few drinks with people who didn't even know when her birthday was. The song finished abruptly, followed by simultaneous cheering. She kept moving, weaving in and out of people with fierce determination until she walked right into him. She murmured a quick apology and went to continue when the familiarity of the figure in front of her hit. She hesitantly looked up, heart dropping into her stomach at the mere sight of him.

So the FCC won't let me be or let me be me so let me see

In the dark room, a scent is pulled towards you. The smell of rotten meat and murder. . . . What do you mean “you can’t smell murder.” It’s a normal thing to smell murder. You know, like the whiff of fresh baked pie. Yup, that’s murder. Of course, it’s not murder. Who do you think I am? An uncultured swine, who doesn’t know; when a person is dead because of people? Moving on.

My life was flashing before my eyes, I was realizing what was happening death was coming. Cold and stillness filled the room while the feeling of death started to overtake my body it was a different feeling but it had to come. My limbs felt heavy and I thought real slow everything was slowing down. Just then something odd happened like nothing I ever thought some sound came into the room an annoying buzzing creature.

I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know it could kill me. One time when I was 8, I was playing with some chapstick. I was putting It on everything when I decided to take a bite out of it. I ended up getting really sick and almost dying.