To Kill A Mockingbird Monologue

The wind was harsh in Maycomb that night, the moon a meer pearl in a black sky. I sat in the chair in my study, cringing from the moonlight emanating from the large window, as if it, too, would burn my skin. I tapped my pen, thinking about the Finch children. Why was I so intrigued with them, with who they were? Maybe it was because I felt as if they were like me. Their father, being so brave as to defy the societal norms, must have raised them like him; to respect all people, no matter the color of their skin. They were so young, so innocent, and I did not wish to see them harmed or looked down upon. They looked up to me, that I knew; why, I didn’t. I did not want them to end up like me; a coward that hid from what he was afraid of. I wanted them to do something about it. I was hopeful that they would.
It was at that moment that I had heard the commotion from my room, while staring at the stars from my window, praying for Mr. Tom Robinson and his soul. They were the reason why. The reason why I stayed inside. From fear or shame, it did not matter, for I hid from what could hurt not me, but the other souls around me. Anyway, I heard commotion from outside. Sounded like an oomf and rustle of clothing on the ground, the scraping of people on the asphalt, the shuffle of feet. I didn’t mind it at first. Afterall, being
Run! Run!” A little boy screamed. Not just any boy, however. This was a voice that belonged to one of them kids that walked ‘round Maycomb. Jem and Scout Finch, Mr. Atticus Finch's children. The one’s I often looked out for. Fear spiked in my heart, the heart that felt like it was often not beating at all, but now it was racing, screaming, shouting at me to get up and do something. But what? I hadn’t been outside in years. Was I about to? Yes my heart seemed to tell me. Yes, you are about to. For them Finch kids. I darted out of the study, rushing down my hallways and into the kitchen. I panicked, picking up the first thing I could