Post by turkoizdog on May 16, 2010 1:02:19 GMT -8
I knew that'd catch your attention ;D
But seriously guys, tell me what you think about this monologue! It's for my creative writing class... I think it needs serious clean up. :/
The Eye of the Beholder
by Turkey Lurkey
When you’ve been trapped in here as long as I have, you’ve gotta be creative in finding ways to entertain yourself. We used to have books but those are gone now. Banned, since a guy upstairs found a way to use the Bible to kill himself. Prob’ly got papercut to death or summat. Anyway, it wouldn’t and shouldn’t make a difference in my case because for one, I’m not a depressed psycho, and for two, I can’t kill myself no matter how hard I try.
I suppose that alone time has given me ways to cure my boredom. First time I stabbed myself with a fork in the dining hall, the guy next to me screamed. Guards came running. Thought I’d attacked him. Naw. By the time they called a doctor, I was all better. They locked each of us in our own confinements that night.
Pretty soon, a guy from Block B came up to me in the yard tellin’ me how to fashion a knife from a spoon. Thought I’d try it. Worked pretty well. Only wish I had a camera to take pictures, see the way blood snaked down my leg. It looked beautiful going down the drain too, but best of all? On the cement floor, all dried up in patterns. I got into painting. I painted a tree, an eye, and a woman. She was my best piece of work. I named her Ruby.
By now, the boys and guards figured out what I was. My knife was well hidden, so I didn’t have to worry. Guards would walk by and spit on the ground at my feet. “Freak” they’d say. I’d laugh. Maybe crack a finger to watch them flinch at the noise, trying to keep tough. They’re right. Not because I can heal, but because I can see the beauty in pain.
But seriously guys, tell me what you think about this monologue! It's for my creative writing class... I think it needs serious clean up. :/
The Eye of the Beholder
by Turkey Lurkey
When you’ve been trapped in here as long as I have, you’ve gotta be creative in finding ways to entertain yourself. We used to have books but those are gone now. Banned, since a guy upstairs found a way to use the Bible to kill himself. Prob’ly got papercut to death or summat. Anyway, it wouldn’t and shouldn’t make a difference in my case because for one, I’m not a depressed psycho, and for two, I can’t kill myself no matter how hard I try.
I suppose that alone time has given me ways to cure my boredom. First time I stabbed myself with a fork in the dining hall, the guy next to me screamed. Guards came running. Thought I’d attacked him. Naw. By the time they called a doctor, I was all better. They locked each of us in our own confinements that night.
Pretty soon, a guy from Block B came up to me in the yard tellin’ me how to fashion a knife from a spoon. Thought I’d try it. Worked pretty well. Only wish I had a camera to take pictures, see the way blood snaked down my leg. It looked beautiful going down the drain too, but best of all? On the cement floor, all dried up in patterns. I got into painting. I painted a tree, an eye, and a woman. She was my best piece of work. I named her Ruby.
By now, the boys and guards figured out what I was. My knife was well hidden, so I didn’t have to worry. Guards would walk by and spit on the ground at my feet. “Freak” they’d say. I’d laugh. Maybe crack a finger to watch them flinch at the noise, trying to keep tough. They’re right. Not because I can heal, but because I can see the beauty in pain.
