(A young man is sitting on the lower bed of his bunk bed in a small dark prison cell leaning against the wall. He’s wearing ripped grey trousers with a navy blue t-shirt that is stained. He starts scratching the stubble on his face and leans under his pillow to pull out a piece of chalk and draws a small line on the wall)
Day 63…only 302 more days left. Not that long left then I suppose. Im still breathing, although the asthma doesn’t seem to be settling down any time soon. But I feel as though im on the edge of it now, you know wa’ I mean. Like you know, this is it, nowhere else to go. And its only been one third of my total time. Wait , yh that’s right, one third. Yh I was always good at maths, always top of the class and knew algebra inside out. I could work out anything me, pity I couldn’t work this one out init.
(He moves on his bed and lays down facing the bunk above him and speaks as if he were speaking to the bed itself)
He was all brains up there. John was his name. Never quite understood why he wanted to end up there. I mean, he was a good lad. Polite, clever, good looking. Reminded me of me at one point. He said he had a son bob who was three. Born on the same day as my lil’ boy would you believe. We had a lot in common. Some say his end came to soon. God knows why he all of a sudden went mad. That’s the way he wasn’t like me. I could handle life. I didn’t search for death at every hurdle. Us big men can handle pressure.
(takes a long deep breath)
John was different. He started crying and instantly laughin’ for no reason one day. Always punching and kicking anything in his sight. He even fucked up bob one day. Coughed up blood now and then too. Never understood that. But I had to help him. That day when he called me I knew I had to help. He was in the shower when I came. I had to do it. I had to tie the rope around the shower head. He made me. Didn’t force me, but made me. Im glad I did too. He needed help, I helped him therefore I did a good deed. Yh a bloody good deed.
(He gets up and walks towards a pile of clothes and pulls out a picture of his son. Stroking the picture, he returns to his bed and kneels beside it)
Your mother thinks I was wrong son. But I wasn’t. I helped him. Friends do that. She doesn’t understand. She’s a woman. Always thinking with her brain more then her heart. Silly cow. Don’t worry son Il be out soon. Soon as possible. I didn’t kill him, I helped free him. They all call me heartless, a murderer. The other prisoners say it, even the walls repeat it now. But im not heartless, im just nice. the only problem, was that I was too nice.
ino itz long...buh mina O WELL
ReplyDeletelol if thats long i wonder what short is :D
ReplyDelete---------------------------------
Loved hw u kept 2da subject thruout n ur descriptionz were sikle nice 1 :D
Hi Yaz
ReplyDeleteThis is a really powerful monologue. I enjoyed the storytelling in it, how you structured the piece by telling us the story of your narrator's relationship with John. I also liked how you opened it up with a brief description of his actions and by telling us how many more days he had to go. I knew then exactly where he was. And talking about his asthma focussed my attention on him as a real and suffering person.
To make it stronger - when he introduces John, let your narrator describe events with John. This allows the person listening to this to see the two of them interacting together. Don't give the game away too soon by dropping in lines such as 'I never quite understood why he wanted to end up there' and 'some say his end came too soon'. Doing this deflates the tension you are building nicely in this important paragraph. Just be brave enough to keep the drama there and keep your character re-living events - he has plenty of time in his cell to constantly go over it!
Keep on building the tension for the next important para about the day he helped John kill himself. Don't give away what is going to happen in the next para with a line such as 'God knows why he all of a sudden went mad.'
The para about the day he helps John kill himself, is about one intensely remembered day, so really focus in on that day. Just let your narrator talk about how John seemed so different, how what he was doing showed your narrator that something dramatic had changed in him. You could even have your narrator recall a conversation between him and John that made him decide he would help John to kill himself. What made your narrator choose this option? He could have simply walked away.And if John did 'fuck up Bob' have him do it on this particular day. Your narrator could see it or John on the day he kills himself could tell him what he had done to Bob.
And your narrator helping a man to kill himself has destroyed his relationships with other people. You could explore the issue too that he is being treated as a murderer, is being punished for doing what he thought was a good deed.
Would he not have an angrier response to this, or has he calmly accepted his fate, knowing society is wrong and he as an individual is right? This is an interesting argument, where the state tells us what is and isn't right and we sometimes innately know different....
Really enjoyed reading this strong submission!
Best wishes
ann g
Not much to add to Ann's excellent comments, really, but this remains an outstanding monologue, in which you manage the difficult task of making it actually SOUND like your character speaking throughout. And there are some fantastic other moments too - like when you tell us "even the walls repeat it now". Brilliant.
ReplyDeleteIf anything, I think it is the last two sentences which let it down a little. They are somewhat ordinary and disappointing, don't you think?