The Foot 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.

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 was a productive woman, and I wanted people to see it in me. I wanted them to see it in the way I walked. I wanted them to see it in the way I talked. I wanted them to see it in the way I worked late every night to make my patients, and the world, a healthier, better place. Most importantly, though, my productivity was expressed in the way that I raised my boy. I wanted Eugene to be as perfect as I was, and I worked my hardest to keep all distractions from him. Still, he always managed to slide his face into the pages of his books every chance he got. I didn’t see the point in it. He had the top marks out of everyone in his class, so what was the point in reading books that didn’t improve his grades? I didn’t

I remember the time I started dancing like it was yesterday. I was in 7th grade when I first joined a dance team. Dance became important to my life, due to the fact that when I was younger I would constantly get hurt a lot by being bullied, and also had my parents fight all the time until they reached a point they wanted to get a divorce. I got tired of it , and I started looking for horrible ways to blow away the pain I felt inside, finally I found the appropriate way to do so. Dancing was the perfect way to escape from all the pain that was holding me down. I look back so many times to the day I first did a solo;It felt like the wind was blowing towards my face every pirouette I did. It felt like if I was a bird flying free in the sky. I

The man sat in the booth across from me studied me with old eyes. His wrinkles which formed when he used to smile so much are no longer quite as prominent. The man’s irises were currently an icy blue, resembling the seasonal weather among the small town. This I only knew because I’ve seen him once before. His eyes were almost like a crisp auburn- resembling what was known to him as “the falling of the children”

I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything.

My name is Mayella Ewell. I belong to the lowest of the low amongst the whites in Maycomb. I grew up in a poor family and never received any proper education. The only I have is probably being white. My dad and I want to have a better life, but dad doesn’t want to put any effort into doing so. My mom died when I was young and I became a surrogate wife for my dad. I wish I could have gone to school, but I have to take care of my children. My dad loves to go out and drink for the whole day. When he comes home, he often drunk and this is when he would rape me.

Nigga touch my gang we gon turn this shit to Columbine Ice on my neck cost me 10 times 3 30, 000 dollars for a nigga to get flee I just hit Rodeo and I spent like 10 Gs I just did a show and spent the check on my mama When I go on vacay I might rent out the Bahamas And I keep like 10 phones, damn I'm really never home All these niggas clones tryna copy what I'm on Nigga get your own, tryna pick a nigga bone Way to Brother Skip, boy I had a good day Metro PCS trapping boy I'm making plays 50 shades of grey, beat that pussy like Hulk Hogan

to accept it, this is my eternity, i'd stay here forever and ever. I guess this is it, my whole life and it's all wasted. I wonder if I could have done anything different, maybe be kinder, give to the poor, I don't know. I'll never get married or have children.

Kneeling on the frozen snow nor feeling nor knowing what is beneath me?…. my cells are no longer responding… My body is shivering, begging me to stop…….My hands are pale as if my blood has frozen, barely moving, barely thinking, barely conscious. My glim of hope vanishing as I realise I won’t survive in this vast of white snow… Lost the sense of direction. How many days have I travelled? Believing in a glim that goes nowhere. Am I going insane? Not knowing the date nor the time nor someone to talk to but only myself. Only if my friend was here… What am I talking about his already dead. How did he die ? I can’t remember well? We were walking nearby a river hoping if we follow the current it may lead us to people,I heard a splash I turned my back and he was into the cold water, I helped him to get up but his foot got stuck into a puddle pulling his head under the water, he was struggling I tried to pull him towards me but I was too exhausted, as he was drowning I saw his face expression it gave me a

Oh yeah I almost forgot. The amputated leg, how is that going for you. You know if you're just too tired of walking around mostly on one leg, well just get a wheelchair so it is easier to get around. Or if you don't want to sit around all day, then get a cane so you can still walk around but still have support. Lastly wear it proud like a man. Don't be afraid to go out and show it off. You are a veteran. People should not hate on you are make fun of

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.

Jamal woke up in a dark, dirty, damp place. He was in a room with another unconscious or perhaps sleeping man. Suddenly a light turned on and two men in suits stood the entrance of the room. One pointed at Jamal and said, “The kingpin wishes to see you.” They left the room and Jamal followed. They entered a hallway filled with similar rooms, not a trace of sunlight in the whole building. Then they entered a massive room with hundreds of miserable people doing slave like work. They were manufacturing illegal narcotics and it appeared to be against their will. He kept following the two suited men until they reached a massive, decorated door which they opened. In the room was a throne made of dollar bills and a tall, muscular man rested upon it.

It all started one day when out of the blue a rice farmer named John in Asia specifically in the mountains in northern China was tending to his crops and got bitten by a bug that he has never encountered before. Not worried about it he continued to work, but soon enough he started to feel some pain. His arm started to swell, his body began to ache, and his skin started to change color. The bite started to ooze out a yellow pus and it also started to change color to a deep purple . When he got home his wife not knowing what to do, took him down to the local doctor, Dr.Gunj.