MONOLOGUES Female 6-7 My Daddy says I’m his little Princess. A Princess? Really? I love being a Princess! (claps hands with little jumps) Princesses are always pretty‚ perky‚ and very‚ very brave. (Pause‚ tilt head and place hands on hips) I wonder why no one ever told me this before! Male 6-7 . . . . . A dollar? Seriously? Can’t you do better than that? (Look up thinking) Let’s see‚ what would I like? Hmm. It would be fun to have a super power. I could fly through the sky (raise arms as if
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Jaslyn Eloisil PHI 2010 Writing Assignment 1 9/5/13 My Lord and Savior‚ Jesus Christ Who is greater to live for than the one and only Jesus Christ? He is the one that died for our sins‚ the one that created everything living and nonliving on Earth‚ the ruler of all. His death allowed forgiveness for the sins of everyone on Earth. Why not give Him thanks by living for Him? Not allowing Him to be the ruler of your life is asking to spend an eternity in the fiery pits of hell. I enjoy summer
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I lay dying in a pool of my own blood. It’s warm. Even so‚ I can feel the embrace of death approaching. It’s cold claws clutching at my heart. My sense of touch fades‚ along with the sound of sirens in the distance. Oh‚ is that an ambulance approaching? I’m afraid I have some bad news for them. Even though I’m not a doctor‚ I know I’m dying. Why you ask? Well‚ I was stabbed at least thirty times with a switchblade. Even if the knife missed all of my organs‚ I’ve lost too much blood to survive
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saluting enthusiastically to their red-robed leaders under the yellow star; the boat crammed with coughing throats and calloused hands; blood washed away by the rains. She talked about things I had only ever heard about from the kind of tragic monologues that hot-shot actors won Oscars for and only shed real tears for at the podium. But unlike the performers’ melodramatic shouts of magniloquent misdirected emotion and the onion tears I associated with this kind of language‚ she seemed perfectly
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Holocaust Monologue: Memoir of Eva Buchbinder (from Torn Threads by Anne Isaacs) My name is Eva Buchbinder. I have many family members that live with me in the fenced in ghetto of Bedzin‚ Poland; my father‚ Papa‚ my sister‚ Rachel‚ my aunt‚ Rivka‚ Uncle Nathaniel‚ and my cousin‚ David. Papa‚ Rachel‚ and I used to live in the proper part of town in Bedzin‚ but once Hitler came to power he made many laws that condemned us because we were Jewish. In the winter of 1942 we were forced to move
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protection ended you need to leave the village within two days‚ no food will be provided to you by the village‚ only two gold coins. If you wish to have more gold you can exchange it with life stones. Did you understood everything?". Quite a long monologue to
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The ground beneath my feet was solid. There were noises and deep structural groans. A shiver of cold ran through me‚ but my will power kept me firm. I was unable to figure out whether it was the collective cry of humans or was it an invitation of Lord Yama for me. There were bloodshed and debris and dismantled things all over. I fell over‚ got to my feet. The need being too great‚ the hardest thing I could bear was the look in the eyes of tourists expecting help. I could not save everyone. The
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my heel as if I’m about to leave and the old man grumbles out‚ “Fine You kill that beast‚ I’ll give you all the supplies you need.” I grin and continue walking off‚ calling out behind me‚ “That I will. Thank you for your gratitude.” I walk on till Lord Apollo’s golden chariot begins to dip for his sister to take over the skies with her violet hues. I have utterly no clue where to find the beast that is bothering Athens. Perhaps‚ betting the necessities of my survival on finding a monster was not
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We are gathered here today to say some good things about a friend we lost who was more than a friend he was almost family to us. We wish you could stay Johnny but the Lord has bigger plans for you buddy. I remember the time when we ran from the cops and went to the church and met up with Dally and we talked about some good things we done together‚ like when we went into the dinner and ate together. Some of other things that we did is when we saved the kids and the press called you a here they called
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Redbird With the dull look of a drunk‚ Gabriel hugged the tiller singing to himself‚ his square jaw deep in stubble‚ face as gray as a wet street at midnight. On the head a pointed hat‚ on the left foot a dirty bandage; between the two‚ naked. Opening welcoming arms he fell back on the rudder post drunk as a weasel‚ breath heavy with whiskey and onions. Waving a lantern in our faces‚ ‘Francis‚ Pat me favrit boys‚ ‘ave a drink.’ Scrabbling around‚ he shook an empty bottle close to the light‚ berating
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