The Bushman Monologue

Father. The only person who had been there for me. Has shaped me into the man I am today and without him, I would be nothing. Now he’s gone, I am nothing. Consumed with darkness and hatred, which has ignited my anger towards the men who poisoned my father or as the devils call him ‘King Willie.’

As I walked through the forest, I reminisced about how father and I would look for the best trees for the mill workers. Tears start gushing down my face like a waterfall. I clenched my teeth and started running. I ran like there was no tomorrow until I was gasping for air. This was when I gasped in a foul stench that raced through my nostrils and exploded in my punctured heart. ‘Boom!’. It was the grog. The alcoholic drink that was made with rotten potatoes. It was this that the Bushmen used to slaughter my father. I quickly dropped to the dirt-covered ground, feeling the twigs and sticks, which felt like needles and pins. I sluggishly crept on the floor until I heard men chuckling. It was the Bushmen, Lively, jubilant and boasting about how they were able to fool my father into drinking their
If he wants to kill himself he can be my guest. He’s Just going to end up like he’s father. A lonely foul smelling, deadbeat person who drank himself to death.’
With emotional rage and in my voice, I sobbed furiously saying
‘What do you know about him. He was my father and even though he knew he had depression he tried to overcome it so don’t ever speak in his name like that again. He left me with a burden and I promise to complete that.’ They all looked puzzled and confused about what I said, but they laughed it off vanished. Whilst leaving Jack Norbush gave me a devilish smirk that pierced through my heart. He had such animosity in that smirk. At this moment I definitely knew it him who poisoned my father with the grog. Knowing this my anger was as full as the ocean and my heart cold as ice. I began to craft the wooden