The Color Purple Monologue

The rain had just stopped pouring, and we had all gathered in a park nearby, as a makeshift memorial for Johnny. It wasn’t really a funeral, we didn’t have the budget for that, and it wasn’t like his parents cared enough to give him a proper goodbye.

Then he push his thing inside my pussy.”(11) Although this is a description on one specific moment, it is not the only time this has happened. Celie has had two children already, with her father as the father. Celie’s mother is alive, but is ill and dying, so she can do little, if she is even aware of her surroundings. Her life continues like this until one day a man she calls Mr.___ comes for Nettie, Celie’s sister. Instead of Nettie going with Mr.__, Celie’s father gives him Celie instead of Nettie. Climax: After surrounding herself with two strong, independent women, Sofia and Shug, and the anger that had built up from years of abuse Celie finally gained the confidence she needed to break free of her chains. Her anger from finding the letters that Mr.__ had been keeping from her for years pushed her over and made Celie confront Mr.__. After she confronted him, and told him of how her and Shug were going to Tennessee he still tries to hurt her by trying “to act lie he don’t care she going” and by verbally abusing her one last time “You’ll back. Nothing up North for nobody like you…You ugly. You skinny. You shape funny. You too scared to open your mouth to people.”(186) Yet none of that even matters to Celie because she thinks “I’m

I stepped off the shuttle and looked at the burning red sands of Korriban. Secrets were hidden well beneath those grains of red, secrets and mysteries. Underneath the copious amounts of sand, there were decayed bodies, perhaps ancient tombs, maybe even hidden knowledge. I would never know. Nor would I ever want to know, somethings should stay hidden. Korriban made me wary. I wasn’t sure of anything on this planet yet. Scratch that, I was sure of one thing actually, the force on this planet was an abyss of dark and brooding hatred. Loathing, revenge, lust, envy and jealousy all bloomed throughout this planet. It powered me, fueled me, it felt like I was swimming in an ocean of darkness, but came at a price. It unbalanced me. I was taught that my emotions would discombobulate me, subvert me, that it would turn me into a hindrance. But they’re wrong right? They were wrong about everything. I didn’t follow their rules anymore, they had no authority over me. I was my own person. I was free from them.

I woke up in hot sweat, well, not a hot sweat exactly, but it felt like my body was melting and my head felt quite foggy. I didn't really pay attention to much that was different about my surroundings until I heard a faint, yet gentle voice approach me from across the hall. It sounded like Phoebe but different. The voice sounded older and less pure, so it couldn't be Phoebe. Everything just felt different. I noticed the clothes I was wearing were drab. If I was at Pencey I would be shamed by the entire class for showing up in these clothes. Making the connection I realised I was in quite a small room with not much to it. There was a desk which held a mountain of papers. There was an old rickety chair, and a small dresser. Other than that

Scuttling innocently through the twisting corridors I bore the same expression; head down, shoulders hunched, avoiding any eye contact - my desperate attempts to deter the despot for one day at least. Despite my efforts, there was no escape, as seemingly within the second of having that naively optimistic thought, a cruel, callous voice demanded I surrender my broach. Fear spiked, as it always did, but with it came something else, an alien emotion ... Looking back now, I see that it must have been the cumulative effect of months of torment that brought me to the realisation that at this point I had reached the nadir of my life. Deriding cackles pierced my ears and this time I recognised the emotion, fury. It burned through my veins, along with the memories of the past to form a feeling of overwhelming power. I met the daggers that would usually invoke terror, and calmly, I said “No.”

The dried, burned grass crunched under the weight of my combat boots. Every so often a bright green blade of grass would lick onto my shoe. No one has visited this place since the war. The land has been isolated for so long, since our shouts and blood filled the battlefield.

Then our savior, Dr. Ben Eisenhower, discovered this rageful plague was the result of a reaction to a hereditary gene mutation, making the disease both hereditary and communicable. Eisenhower hypothesized that the only way to stop this plague was through isolation and careful DNA pairing throughout each generation. Please keep in mind that everything done today is for the safety of the entire colony, so please do not resist as we have everyone's best interest at heart. Anyone who is unwilling to comply with our demands will be taken care of with whatever forces necessary,” the guards on either side of her adjusted the machine guns slung over their shoulders and flex their electric tasers as a display of authority. “Anyway,” she said as she perked back up, “everyone will be undergoing a DNA compatibility test with their partner. This standard procedure will reveal if, both you and your partner are carriers of the recessive allele for the gene mutation that causes the plague. If so, when you and your partner have a baby, it is highly probable that he or she will suffer from the deadly effects of this rampant disease. We cannot afford to take any chances when it comes to the safety of your fragile colony! We are the lucky survivors! And it is our duty to repopulate our

I kept writing. It was hard, but I could get everything off of my chest. I could explain to people what had happened to me. I could tell my English teacher. It was a little hard, but I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. Greasers didn’t cry.

I wish I could pull myself away, But you’re almost as bad as nicotine. You’re a drug that I fell into, And can’t drag myself out of. I just can’t quit. I’ve tried my hardest, pushed my limits, Burned my mind to try to stop myself, But never have I succeeded. I’ve only walked the road of failure, The

“Not ones our age.” I pegged him at no more than early thirties, but that could be due to the scruff coating his jawline.

The sky is terse as if it were painted cobalt blue, a hymn to life. I'm walking with uncertain steps to the TLC, wrapped in a woolen cloak like a witch fallen victim of her own spell. It's one of those days; a tiny homunculus of the caves, survived the ice age, is relentlessly punching my right eardrum. The view is blurred, and I can barely walk straight and conceal the anguish that overwhelms my reason whenever the damn caveman gets out of bed on the wrong side.

He hadn't thought it would hurt. Of course, everyone had said it would, but everyone is not the Winchesters.

This is me, Mandy. I’m a twelve-year-old girl. I have brown hair always in pigtails. Sadly, I’m an orphan because when I was two, my parents thought I wasn’t good enough for them. But look on the bright side, I’m in a cool, small orphanage with the manager, Ms. Lomesto, in charge. I actually made these cool two friends Lisa and Betty, but they aren’t that right for me because they always want to sneak out of the orphanage. I’m not smart like them, so it doesn’t work. Anyway, my dream is to go to the Fun Fair because of the cotton candy, the games, and the prizes! But that will never happen because we can’t escape the orphanage.

There is a tree, seemingly reaching into the sky, at the top of the lane where two sisters live. An arch shape ingrained at the base of the trunk resembles a door, and a big protruding bulge on the side, a button.

set us up: I am not interested in being set up. I need to be ambushed,