The Alma Monologue

Ever since Alma was an infant she adored strolling through the narrow alleys and backstreets of Paris, one street in particular always deserted, made it her favorite. Alma had the street all to herself. As she pranced around in her favorite alley, she noticed a petite chalkboard for the first time. Intrigued by the board, she inspected it and acknowledged that written on the board was the names of various people, she concluded that she would write her own name. As she scribbled her name she recognized out of the corner of her eye the store across from her had a girl her age peering through the window towards her. As she investigated deeper she noticed the doll looked eerily exactly like her. As Alma steps forward the doll dashes away. Bewildered, Alma walks toward the store. As she gets nearer the door creaks open and Alma steps toward it, however the door seals shut. Discouraged, Alma walks away, but once more, something caught her attention. Turing around, she sees the door creak open yet again, and this

I am 21 years of age with no one to count on, no hopes for a brighter future, and feeling all alone trying to be the best mother I can be for Abigail-Rose. I’m wondering who can help guide me through my journey of motherhood and as a young woman, where I try to be as visible as possible in covering my emotions through a smile. I’m trying to show that I am a strong young woman, yet I’m scared to do or say the wrong things. I desperately hope no one will ask me if “I’m okay,” because then I’ll burst into tears.

It wasn’t enough that at sixteen, Ava’s life had become as gray and bleak and lifeless as a winter tree. But, the day she was bitten by a fox, she knew things could only get worse.

My dear husband, I understand that you would do anything to get me out of jail; but it is not necessary. As you know, I am with child and they will postpone my death a year. They tell me of how you have fought to try to save me. You do all of this at your own expense. We both wish that things weren’t this way; but you don’t need to suffer with me. If you continue to defy the court they will have no mercy on you. What would happen to our children? They would be orphaned; I refuse to do that to them. You have to forget about helping me and focus on our boys.

I would like to thank for coming and visiting our AVID class. To go up and become a Miss San Joaquin is just really mind-bogglingly crazy! I have so much respect to you. I wouldn’t have the guts just to do any of the things that you’ve mentioned in class. I really admire you for that. To have the guts of steel to do something that might not even work out is just crazy. I also have lots of gratitude for you coming and seeing us even though you were scared to speak in front of us.

Inquisitively, she goes to the door of the shop and peering through the window on the door, spots the figurine standing on a small,

What caught her eye was a well-worn dark surface displaying scribbles on it, plastered on a wall along the side of the street. Upon closer inspection, she astounded to find dozens of names written on it with chalk. Consequently, she picked up a piece of chalk and slowly wrote her name, "Alma." An unsettling sense of being watched overcame her, causing her to turn around only to see a doll in the window of an odd looking shop. Tantalized by this image, she slowly approached the store to get a closer look, and what she saw made her gasp with bewilderment and excitement, but also a little uneasiness. From head to toe, the doll was a mirror image of Alma herself, including the winter coat she had on. Moreover, as if to make sure she was not imagining the similarities, she looked down at her own clothes and then at the doll again, only to see it had disappeared from view. Shocked, Alma ran to the door, peered inside and saw it sitting innocently on a small table. Pulling on the door handle, Alma now desperately wanted to see the inside of the dimly lit shop. After a few tries, it was apparent the door was locked, and in frustration, Alma gathered up some snow and threw a snowball at the door while stomping away in disgust. As she walked away looking for other stores, she heard the ominous creak of the door slowly

The blood freezes in her vains. Her whole body freezes in shock as she could feel the barrel of a pistol against the back of her head. Hearing at the same time that significant sing-song voice. She holds her breath, it feels like her heart stops beating. The disbelieve and shock in her mistress´ eyes and the fear on the face of her son are making it even worse.

Today is the fourth day me and Little Ann have been sitting here waiting to hunt. Billy is just walking around the camp looking at other dogs and talking to the hunters. He starts making his way back to Little Ann and I. In the buggy Billy digs us each out a weenie and feeds it to us. I swallow mine whole and look at him and ask for more. I don't really think he understood me because he just walked away smiling.

Currently I find myself on the planet Almas. It is here that Akial was last spotted. He was teacher at the Jedi academy. Where he most likely lived a leisurely lifestyle. However, after the Republic was brought down, my dear father was pushed to live a life on the run. I first found out about his status as a teacher here on Almas from a couple of wandering tradesmen while I was still enslaved by the Hutts.

A young girl named Alma trots along a snowy, deserted and narrow road. The stark white setting symbolizes the path to heaven or the afterlife. An enormous chalkboard displaying scribbled names that belong to the previous victims bears a single blank space. Alma scrawls her name. During this scene, the background music has a melodic, gleeful tune. Pasted on the wall beside the store are numerous posters reporting missing persons.

Out in the night Roger waiting for his next victim Mrs. Jones walks past and there he goes as fast as his small, nimble body could carry him, he grabs the purse and with all the weight of her unintendedly heavy pocket book and her heavy self he fell fast. Roger starts to understand what just happens, but it was too late, he was already being held by his collar. Roger started to feel hot in the face in which he figured they could easily see, but all he wanted was to be let go. Mrs. Jones started ranting again about how his face was dirty, but that didn’t matter to him, he had even told her he wasn’t hungry that was a bad lie, he was starving, but no matter what he could not change Mrs. Jones mind he was going home with her to wash his face and eat some nice food he stared at the door as she turned him loose but he didn’t run so he washed his face. Roger sat where she could not see him and decided to move to show trust.

There was a strong pungent of disinfectants and rubbing alcohol as she was rushed into the lobby. Crying out her last breath to express her agonizing pain as she lied down on the cold gurney. The nurses in a light blue uniform quickly arrived as several doctors in long white gowns rushed to the scene. Her mother was by her side, holding her hands as tight as she could, as the nurses pushed the agitating gurney towards the automatic doors. Soon her visions blurred and as the world turned into a tint of pink and red. As her vision slowly darkened, she solely relied on the touch of her mother’s warm hand and her soothing voice. Notwithstanding the tight grip of her mother’s hands, they was soon torn apart. Fear took over her body as she cried even louder. The sudden yet rhythmic beep was the last memory she could recall. It was March 5th.

“What! There’s no reason to be yelling when I’m right behind you. Jane, tell me again why we’re digging through all this garbage. This useless junk can be thrown away, you know that right?” argued Jack as he tries to find a way over all the boxes filled with articles and random items. As he made his way through the boxes, he finds a weird looking object. It was a little doll laying on the floor. The black eyes and black hair made jack feel odd.

Emma Bertrand pressed a hand against the churning in her stomach and forced herself to move—one foot in front of the other. As silent as possible, she crept along the dark hallway toward her mother’s bedchamber. Her father said the sickroom was no place for a twelve-year-old girl, but she had to know for certain if her suspicions were true.