Old Men Monologues

How murder first came to enter the narrators mind is unknown. There was no real motive as said: “Object there was none... I loved the old man. He had never wronged me...” (884.) The narrator states that the old man's eye was a pale blue color with film over it, resembling a vulture. The narrator insists that he is not insane however his repeating of this, and his actions, contradict one another. Being so threatened by the old man's eye, the killer attacks his master at night, cuts up his body and buries it beneath the floor boards. Although the old man had sensed his killer in his bedroom, he was too terrified to run for his life. The fact that the narrator kills this innocent old man because of his eye is proof enough he suffers from psychological imbalance To further the evidence that the narrator is, he continues to hear the man's heart beat beneath the floor boards. Although it seems as if it is his own heart beating, he automatically assumes the old man's heart is haunting his mind. The characters are what play the key role in this short story. The killer is suffering from insanity, which he believes is the cause of the evil eye. The old man is never really developed within the story, just known he is innocent and has never wronged his killer. The old man could just represent an innocence who is opposite of a murderer's mind. Within the whole plot the characters unfold an unsettling dark theme for the story; a cold hearted killer and a loving old man with an

Today, Mother has starved me again; I haven’t eaten food in four days. I did my chores and everything she asked from me. I have no source of food, I would usually get the leftovers, but last week Mother found out and I was punished for it, I’m used to it at this point. I got beaten up today too, for no reason I didn’t even talk or move. I wonder why Mother hates me that much, I’m the only child treated like that , sometimes I feel like I am a slave and that I am not part of the family , while Russell, Ronald, and Stan are treated like kings compared to me, sometimes I blame them but then again it is not their fault

I shivered and looked at the gun, and then threw it away from myself, back up on the bank, near the pile of ashes. Eyes filled with dread, I sank to my knees and covered my face with my hands. The wind whipped back and forth but all I could do was stare at the person who once was my friend. Slim’s voice shouted. “George. Where you at George?”

She like to fuck me, suck me, suck then fuck me I'm the ice cream man, she chunky monkey She like to fuck me, suck me, suck then fuck me I'm the ice cream man, she chunky monkey She like to twirly swirly, in my vanilla coupe

To begin with, his motive for murder is the epitome of insane. The text states “Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this” (2). Even though the old man does absolutely nothing to upset his younger companion, the protagonist still strives to end his life, all because of an eye. With this newfound objective, the story teller quickly acts, describing how he advances in paragraph 3: “You should have seen how wisely I proceeded -- with what caution -- with what foresight -- with what dissimulation, I went to work!” Specifically, the main character stalks the old man throughout a whole week before finally striking. At midnight, he cautiously opens the bedroom door and sticks in a lantern, just enough so he lands a single ray of light upon the evil eye. On the other side of the spectrum, he lures the old man into a false sense of security during the day by acting good-natured and kindhearted. Although the raconteur has expressed his psychotic mind and vexatious ideas, the infamous principle “innocent until proven guilty” prevents his conscious from entering the depths of guilt since no serious devilry has been done

I started to walk away from the tournament, I wanted to get away, to think. No one ever seems to care how I felt. I walk to the barn slowly so Curly wouldn't notice I was leaving when I saw Lennie. I needed to talk to someone, to actually have a really conversation with someone. I kept to my slow pace til he looked up at me. Then, he covered something up in the hay.

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.

Today was the worst day of my life. The boys in the bunkhouse decided that my old girl had lived long enough. They took her from me in the night and put her down. There was utter silence for the longest time and then I heard a shot in the distance. I would have happily taken her spot as this world just doesn’t have a lot to offer for me anymore. I knew she was getting old and had trouble getting around but that was my baby. And they just took her away like she didn’t even matter. The boy’s said I could pick any of Slim’s dog’s to replace my old girl, but I don’t think I have the time or the patience. We got a couple new ranch hands today, George and Lennie they seem nice enough, George is definetly the brains of that duo and what Lennie lacks

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.

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 gun is too old, it’s going to misfire,” mused Stanley as he fingered the trigger of his pistol. It was a small and weak gun that had been in his possession for many years. “I’m too nervous, I won’t be able to pull the trigger, let alone aim this thing,” he thought to himself in horror, his apprehension wreaking havoc on his nerves.

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.

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.

Dark Place – JEFFREY: Does it matter to you that I am going mad? Not sure I can go away and reflect on it. Not sure I can get through my own madness.

“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.