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The Color Purple Monologue

Decent Essays
I am a Chosen. I survived the Epidemic and like all of the other survivors who weren’t in quarantine, safe from the outside world, I have a power. Everything I touch burns in my grasp. That’s why they brought me here, to use me as a weapon against rebellion. They interrogate me daily, even though I’ve only been here for a week. “Iris, when did your parents die, and what was the cause of death?” Warner says to me, his High Officer badge glistening on his chest in the fluorescent lighting. They stare at me through the window like I’m a zoo animal. I’m nothing more than an experiment. And to them, that’s true. With my power, they forget that I’m a person too. They forget that I live and breathe, can feel pain and destruction. They forget that…show more content…
What a wonderful word, not spoken too often around here. They tell us we have freedoms. They tell us we’re lucky to be in the positions that we’re in. Yes, we’re lucky. Lucky to have the endless hours of factory work at minimal pay. Lucky to be discriminated against for our powers, for our wishes of independence. “The Void,” I say the words as a whisper, like they’re almost too good to be true. There’s a way we can fight back. We can be free. “Yes, Iris. The Void is made up of us rebel soldiers, and there’s more of us than you can imagine. Hundreds, maybe even thousands. Ellis-a guy I know from training-and I are in charge of the whole operation here on base. One command can change the course of any of our lives,” he finishes, an expression of hope and desperation on his face. I look at his dark brown hair, green eyes, and statuesque figure. He looks the same as we were as kids. I tell him this. “So do you, I.” It’s been years since he called me I. It’s also been years since anyone called me anything other than “that” and “#281963”. “Nine years,” he continues, fiddling with the end of his frayed t-shirt, “and still the same fiery head of hair and willowy figure. But something’s missing. They took it away from you before you even turned twelve. Your spunk. Your sense of adventure and leadership. Your humor. Gone,” he finishes, tears kicking to make it out of my eyes. I push them
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