Overgrown Woods Monologue

For the midterm monologue I decided to perform a scene from a play called “The Hurt Village” written by Katori Hall and directed by Patricia McGregor. “The Hurt Village” is an Off Broadway play which opened in February 27, 2012. The play took place in the projects of Memphis, Tennessee and tells the story of a soldier who comes home from Iraq to find that the place he grew up in is being demolished and his family is facing eviction due to the government demolishing their housing project.

WHAM!, I heard the rocks crash against the floor and the wailing of my pack. I tried to look for them under the debris of the rocks but It was too cloudy, so I asked loudly, ‘’ Are you okay Alpha?”, Then I hear Alpha telling my master that I was a bad dog. I couldn’t believe that alpha had said I was a bad dog because after all, I was just trying to help, so I just ran away until I made it far enough that I couldn’t see the area I had been in. I felt so sad, so I tried to comfort myself, so I started to look at rocks trying to think about what they looked like. Then I saw a rock that looked like a turtle then I saw one that looked like a man, then I heard the rock talk but then I realized It had actually been a man. I ran to where the man was

control freak. The length of the movie (over three hours) was criticized at the time of

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

This is Beechwood 2-0828. It’s all been very sudden. He was killed just six days ago in an automobile accident on the Brooklyn Bridge. The call operator interrupt saying my three minutes was up. And so, I am sitting here in this deserted camp in Gallup, New Mexico. I am trying to get a hold of myself so I won’t go mad. I have to go home to mother and tell her i’m not dead. So I got in the car and started driving as fast I could to her house. Then suddenly I saw the old man in the middle of the road but i kept driving until I was to my mothers house. I stopped only four times to eat and sleep that's all I had to see her and tell her i'm not dead. During my trip back home I would see the man with fresh raindrops on this raincoat every twenty miles. I was

When the Evil Queen, in full Enchanted-Forest-esque get up, whirls into her empty Sheriff's office, Emma tries not to blink. She hadn't felt easy about Regina destroying... Regina... And it didn't look like the heart-crushing stuck this time – if the Queen staring at her was any indication.

AHhhhhhhhhh that”s all I hear as my stomach lurched. I can barely breath as my eyes bug out of my head . When all the sudden the bar flies up what In the world it won’t go back down. And my mind says hey, guess what Nyles what me you're dead I know….

I am writing to you on the behalf of the terrible accident that happened the other day with me and your darling son Theodore. I just wanted to clear this up for you, so you don’t have to report it to the state generals office. Here is what actually happened...

I am Chris and I am a 19 years old, an avid fisherman, and I almost exclusively use riot baits for every situation I am in. The fuzzy beaver is the best trailer for a jig that I have ever used and it is great for fishing docks on a shaky head hook or even weightless. The streaker absolutely slays fish when swimming it through weed beds or through cover. The riot stick has better action than a senko and the durability is incomparable. I don't understand why anyone would use anything other than riot baits. I live in northwest New Jersey and fish lakes and reservoirs every second of my free time in my kayak. I run into dozens of fishermen daily and always talk up your bait. I have even gotten a local bait shop to look into carrying the

The name is Frank Greene and I live in the wonderful New York City. Right now I’m sitting here at Lou’s bar celebrating New Year Eve with a brandy. I’ve lived here my whole life, except when Uncle Sam decided he needed me in Vietnam right out of high school. You may ask what use the army has for a 6 foot tall, average white guy from Manhattan, who had no applicable skills. They sent me straight to infantry with the rest of the draftees. I eventually got injured and was sent home with an incurable limp.

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”.

Again, another backhand cuts me off. Pain stinging through my cheek does not stop me from speaking. I snap my dark eyes back at Stonewood. “You know I’m right and you hate it. It’s only the matter of time before the Order screws you over and leaves you for dead.”

The personification I chose was, ¨watching the crystallized ice charging to take over the last bit of green left¨ (2). This is effective because Aspen is a beautiful place and in the first paragraph I´m trying to convey it´s beauty. I describe it in a way that the snow is fighting a war to conquer the green land, and that is the way Aspen looks, during winter.

I don't have magical powers. Wasn't born into royalty. Or poverty. I don't feel the Earth rotating or the seals clapping or the sun blazing any more than any normal kid would. Let me introduce myself.

Draco groaned as he slunk down to the floor, wondering how the hell he'd got himself in this predicament. One week ago, he believed that it was a perfectly normal idea that this could actually work. Now, he was left wondering exactly what potion Greengrass had slipped him to accept this stupid proposition of living together.