I wrote something
ok i wrote a monologue, and i need to get feedback, ive already asked some very special people to give me feed back, and if you should be one of thos special people then you werent signed on i guess. but tell me what you think and give me any advice you will. (if you've given me advice i havent put it in yet because i havent had the chance yet)
I got a call last night while I was in my kitchen. It was from him. From his cell phone. I don’t know what he planned to do to me or my family, but when I saw his name appear on the phone I was in a different place.
I was in the woods behind his house. I had an antique looking revolver clutched in my right hand. Heh, he always did like old stuff. My body felt like it was on fire, yet frozen at the same time. I was drenched in sweat and afraid the gun would slip out of my hand. I walked to his back door where everyone came in, and knocked.
I thought about running I thought about not going through with it but it was too late. He answered the door, in jeans and no shirt. He had been at his computer desk right next to it. He gasped when he saw me with a gun but the gasp was cut short by the cracking of the bullets leaving the gun.
They flew from the gun in quick succession mostly ripping through his chest and stomach, one going through his throat. He fell back lifeless over the swivel chair that he had sat at moments earlier. There was a huge clamor as items from his desk got knocked off by his dead body. I loved it. I loved the chaos, the domination, I loved it all.
I grabbed his favorite dagger from a shelf and knelt beside him. I looked at him. His glazed dead eyes somehow still pierced right through me. I took the dagger and thrust it into his left eye, digging it in as deep as it could go into his skull. I pulled it out and went at his right eye with the same passion. I looked at his face. In place of his eyes were two gaping holes filled with his still warm blood.
I cut out his tongue and throat so he couldn’t tell me I was wrong for doing this to him. He deserved it, he deserved everything he was getting. In fact he should have been alive for all of this.
I broke every finger on his disgusting hands with which he had shown, what he so affectionately referred to as love, to many people. What he did was far from love. He knew it.
I lifted the dagger up again, I wouldn’t be done with him until no part of him could be identified. I swung down with it and-
The phone rang again, I was still in my kitchen. The phone was still ringing and his name was still there. I had to know what he wanted. So out of fear, curiosity, and maybe stupidity, I picked up the phone and answered it. It was his girlfriend, she was frantic. She wouldn’t stop screaming, when finally I realized she was asking me questions. What was wrong with me, why did I do it. Telling me that all he ever did was love me, and he just wanted the same from me. My father was dead. I had done it.
-justin
I got a call last night while I was in my kitchen. It was from him. From his cell phone. I don’t know what he planned to do to me or my family, but when I saw his name appear on the phone I was in a different place.
I was in the woods behind his house. I had an antique looking revolver clutched in my right hand. Heh, he always did like old stuff. My body felt like it was on fire, yet frozen at the same time. I was drenched in sweat and afraid the gun would slip out of my hand. I walked to his back door where everyone came in, and knocked.
I thought about running I thought about not going through with it but it was too late. He answered the door, in jeans and no shirt. He had been at his computer desk right next to it. He gasped when he saw me with a gun but the gasp was cut short by the cracking of the bullets leaving the gun.
They flew from the gun in quick succession mostly ripping through his chest and stomach, one going through his throat. He fell back lifeless over the swivel chair that he had sat at moments earlier. There was a huge clamor as items from his desk got knocked off by his dead body. I loved it. I loved the chaos, the domination, I loved it all.
I grabbed his favorite dagger from a shelf and knelt beside him. I looked at him. His glazed dead eyes somehow still pierced right through me. I took the dagger and thrust it into his left eye, digging it in as deep as it could go into his skull. I pulled it out and went at his right eye with the same passion. I looked at his face. In place of his eyes were two gaping holes filled with his still warm blood.
I cut out his tongue and throat so he couldn’t tell me I was wrong for doing this to him. He deserved it, he deserved everything he was getting. In fact he should have been alive for all of this.
I broke every finger on his disgusting hands with which he had shown, what he so affectionately referred to as love, to many people. What he did was far from love. He knew it.
I lifted the dagger up again, I wouldn’t be done with him until no part of him could be identified. I swung down with it and-
The phone rang again, I was still in my kitchen. The phone was still ringing and his name was still there. I had to know what he wanted. So out of fear, curiosity, and maybe stupidity, I picked up the phone and answered it. It was his girlfriend, she was frantic. She wouldn’t stop screaming, when finally I realized she was asking me questions. What was wrong with me, why did I do it. Telling me that all he ever did was love me, and he just wanted the same from me. My father was dead. I had done it.
-justin