ORGINIAL WRITING Dramatic Monologues
Nostalgia The stage is empty apart from a wooden stool in the centre and the lighting is dim with a singular spotlight on the stool where the character is sitting. Sparks splintered the fraught atmosphere as Howdale Terrace irradiated with blazes of crimson and vermillion. This once exquisite and delicate city of mine was now an array of smoke and rubble. An excruciating odour of burning timber seeped through the air with devastation overwhelming the streets of London, as an outburst of agonising cries erupted. Only moments before and the sky had been dim, the silence was deafening and the stillness was complete. That was the day my life changed. (Pause) Forever. The character stands up and timidly walks to the right-hand side of the front of the stage. I remember it all so clearly. You'd think that as time went on this traumatising memory would fade; become less vivid and seem almost a blur wouldn't you? Yet each day the images appear clearer and more prominent. I can’t escape these flashbacks: I’m unable to block out these horrific memories. I am beyond control of my own mind and every day I have to relive this nightmare. 76 years on and I am still enclosed in the life of my 12 year old self. I flicked the dial of our wireless: the most precious possession of ours, not knowing we were only moments away from discovering the disheartening news. Neville Chamberlain’s voice echoed through the radio as my whole family huddled around this wooden box. He announced my father’s fate. (radio plays in the background) My heart sank. My body felt as though it had been swallowed up by excruciating emotions which streamed down my face as I attempted to blink back the tears. It was impossible to say goodbye. I was unable to let go that day as the whole town waited by the train on Platform 2. Everybody that was, but me. Families were there bustling the cracked grey pavements supporting dads, brothers, granddads, uncles and friends. Sorrow filled children clung on to their relatives as the women sobbed their final goodbyes to our brave soldiers. The guilt of my absence still haunts me, eating away at my grievous feelings. The pain was just too much. Steadily walks to the other end of the stage whilst continuing to speak. We were to carry on as normal – George and I. Being two of the few children still present in our area only made it more difficult and tedious to keep a grip on reality. George was my younger brother; only 8 years of age. We were alone and isolated: away from our friends after they had been evacuated to the countryside. We had chosen to remain in our own home along with our mother to help ease the despair she was feeling. Being apart from my father had caused her to become drained and almost motionless. Instead of helping us to cope better, being together as a family almost seemed to cause more upset and heartache as it became more enhanced and apparent that our father was vacant. Things had dramatically altered, yet each day George and I had to attend school as though nothing had changed. The school’s population had decreased to 13 and even then it was extremely rare for full attendance. Every day seemed chronic – the same routine duplicated, day in day out. The air raid siren would drone on repeatedly as we would practice lining up alphabetically and leading down to the underground cellar where we would wait in silence until dismissed. Cooped up in the bitter chill between jagged, splintery walls the darkness shielded my eyes from the terror we would be prepared for if these sirens became real. Even knowing this was just a daily drill, I always feared the precautions as we took the
route to the cellar. However, I was oblivious to the fact that one day I would be faced with the scenario where this procedure would be crucial. One day soon. ‘Night, night,’ I remember calling as George and I headed up to bed, leaving our mother to add to the piles of letters she had being writing for my father. As I snuggled down under my patchwork blankets I reached for Sapphire – a dainty stuffed elephant teddy that my father had bought me before he left. The thought of my father was never far from my mind. I clung to Sapphire and recited my prayers just as my father had told me to do whenever I reached this level of turmoil. I pined for him. Tears stung my face as it once again became red and taut from the pure emotion that was expressed through it. The bond between my father and I was incredible: nobody understood me quite like him. I awoke, startled. (Siren noises play) The tremors from the sirens were unbearable, deafening my ringing ears. (paces frantically backwards and forwards across the stage with the spotlight following her) But these sirens couldn’t be buzzing. No not now. We weren’t at school anymore therefore this couldn’t be another one of our practice air raid drills. Sheer panic possessed me. I hurtled across the landing to clutch onto George. My mother was nowhere to be seen as we scurried down the stairs to the ramshackle cellar in hope of finding her there. (slows down and sirens stop) Shivering in our coarse nightwear, the faint smell of dampness seeped closer towards us as we crouched, muted, pleading for our mother to be with us. (Red lights begin to flash, the siren noises start to play again and sound effects of explosions and glass smashing play) Rubble, glass and possessions shattered in front of our traumatized eyes. The streets ignited and were suppressed with clouds of smoke as homes were destroyed within a split second. The feeling was intolerable; homes were taken and lives were stolen. (sound effects become fainter) Our mother had gone now. Her life had being snatched from us: undeserved and in the blink of an eye. George was all I had left. We were all alone with nothing. All we could do was pray for our mother to go to a safer place, cherished in heaven and to be at peace away from this disastrous world. Silence All we had left was the hope of my father returning home safely. (Looks down) That didn’t happen either. Blackout
Commentary My dramatic monologue, named ‘Nostalgia’ is a fictional piece of text. Although in written mode, it is intended to be spoken and performed; therefore it contains features of spoken lexis. I have used elements of my character’s personal colloquialism to build up my characters vernacular. The genre of my monologue is history/war, with deeper themes and issues contained within the piece consisting of; conflict, uncertainty and loneliness. The text is in a formal register and has a descriptive tone, although it has a non-linear structure due to the inclusion of the flashback. The text has a formal tone, therefore is of high register. The effect of this is to parallel the serious nature of the monologue. Monosyllabic nouns and verbs are used when describing the bomb hitting the town such as, ‘sparks,’ ‘split’ and ‘blink.’ The harsh sounding plosive reflects the subject matter creating a bold and severe atmosphere in both the imagery and the words themselves.
The use of first person is essential as the speaker is giving a speech about an emotional and personal experience they have had. This produces the effect of being easily able to connect and empathise with the character and helps in creating a credible and powerful perception of the character. The use of personal pronouns such as ‘I’ and possessive pronouns like ‘mine’ aid to creating a personal view of the character. Everything is viewed from their perspective, therefore the audience is constantly aware of their feelings and emotions, making them feel involved. I chose vocabulary which creates the lexical field reflecting the time period in which my story was set. Many of the nouns and verbs are closely related as ‘evacuated’ and ‘wireless’ have negative connotations linking to the 1940’s time period and portray elements of danger and uncertainty. I have also used famous icons of the time such as the personal pronoun ‘Neville Chamberlain’ to also highlight the time and setting. The pre-modifying adjective ‘fraught’ used whilst describing the atmosphere creates a typically tense scene for the war genre. ‘Terror-filled’ pre-modifies the noun ‘eyes,’ highlighting the shock and disbelief in which the character emits. The excessive use of adjectives in my text is because I chose to focus on specific details and concentrate on the descriptive element in my piece. I used mainly negative lexis when choosing these adjectives such as ‘excruciating’ and ‘agonising’ to express the greatness of the character’s pain and difficulty of emotions. The negativity of the adjectives relates to the overall subject matter and genre. I have also used superlative adjectives to emphasize the comparison in emotions over a few days including ‘more’ and ‘less.’ I have used a combination of concrete, abstract and proper nouns which are all used whilst describing the flashback and the scene of where the bomb hit. ‘Rubble’ is a concrete noun describing the appearance and imagery of the scene which is in relation to the reader being able to imagine a detailed image so they can connect to the circumstances. I have used ‘time’ as an abstract noun as it is a concept that has no physical existence which produces the effect of a continuous, chronic routine in which the character is trapped in. I’ve used the proper noun ‘London’ to create a sense of realism and as ‘London’ is a capital city it identifies the importance of the subject matter. I have used variance in sentence structures by using a mixture of complex, minor and simple sentences. This helps in building pace to create suspense and provoke anticipation from the audience. The minor sentences such as ‘Forever.’ and ‘No not now.’ increase the drama of the text as there is a sharp contrast between them and the complex sentences ‘Shivering in our coarse nightwear, the faint smell of dampness seeped closer towards us as we crouched, muted, pleading for our mother to be with us.’ The complex sentences are intended to draw out deep emotions from the reader, allowing them to sympathise and relate to the character and the different themes expressed throughout the text whereas the simple sentences like ‘That was the day my life changed’ are used for dramatic effect to intrigue and captivate the reader. The stage directions are a crucial element to my dramatic monologue as they give vital direction for if it is performed. ‘Red lights begin to flash, the siren noises start to play again and sound effects of explosions and glass smashing play.’ The use of the lighting and sound effects in this stage direction is essential in adding the drama to the monologue. It enhances and exaggerates the dramatic nature of the monologue to create a more intense response from the audience. Other stage directions such as ‘pause’ and ‘silence’ assist in creating suspense and intriguing the audience.
The Murderer, in a dark prison cell with the light shining down onto him like a spotlight, sat on wobbly wooden chair. Laid back on chair, hands folded. Abduction. It seemed so easy at the time, just one quick swipe that was all. That was all I needed to bring my Rose back to earth. I could have moved on, I could have turned off at the next junction, even reversed back onto the main road, but somehow I was glued; isolated to this spot: to her. I knew it was my Rose, I just knew it. I watched, as her golden locks bounced under the sun and her sapphire sea eyes had so much intensity they told another story. I felt the adrenalin pumping around me in the threads of my weaving nerves and my heart thumping so frantically under my jumper. I was no longer broken in the emotionless prison God had so happily created. I was left with my life like shattered glass wondering if I could ever pick up the pieces. But then I was dragged uncontrollably to her, the memories came shooting back like stars spinning around in my head, and she was there; here on earth. One quick grab. One quick smack. That was it; she was mine again, (breaths deeply) my Rose.
Puts head down and pauses. I didn’t mean to hurt her, I watched as the colour washed out of her angelic perfectly structured face along with dimming glow of the red sun kissed cheeks as her lips trembled with fear. Mine jittered with confusion, I tried to keep them there but as one glass drop delicately floated down and the salt met my lips the tears just collapsed and cried out a song of doubt. Why didn’t my Rose know me? The crimson blood trickled around my hand, the guilt dripped off in drops. Once the tense sweat of our palms met I knew Rose would understand what was happening, and then we could go back to reality and pick up from where we had left off. I knew once my hands met her in that sharp split second it felt right; I felt the warmth and the feeling of something ticking again inside. Nods head. My Rose was back here with me again, just like the old times.
I spent days, weeks, and months trying to fit the pieces of me and Rose back together but the days of the calendar just ticked off with no improvement. Makes the movement of clock arms with his hands. We were like a perfectly working clock (Stops hand movements). but bolts were missing and not to be found. She wasn’t what she was before, it was different now. She was distant towards me, she had a look on her face that I’ve never seen before, a face of confusion and doubt that ached my heart and stabbed my inner core. I tried so hard, (runs hand through his hair) I’ve never longed for something as much before, I just wanted my Rose to realise it was me. It was becoming a struggle for me, there was a glass barrier between us both and she made no effort to defeat the obstacle. I looked helplessly into her eyes but they just stabbed back like daggering thorns. Turns head away.
I did everything she loved, (points in the air with inspiration) but I knew my Rose wouldn’t be able to resist one of my dinners that I did every Sunday without fail. The sun was shining through the slit of the blinds which lightened up with the room with a hopeful glow, I got up early that Sunday especially because this plan was going to bring us back together and find that last missing bolt. Makes an “oooh” sound with his lips. The beef was sizzling away in the oven as the steam fogged around the kitchen creating that warmth
and homely feel for my Rose. It was all perfect until she erupted and didn’t eat anything. I cooed at the wall and looked up for a hole of light and answers and then looked down for a hole of black honey ready to suck me in and ignore the unhappiness. I slung myself back and broke down into a ball rocking back and forth bouncing off the floorboards as I silently cried in my desperation for my Rose to acknowledge me. Rubs his beard and sniffles.
As time jumped around the clock I didn’t understand why my Rose was acting so distant to me, I thought once we was reunited again it would all be like it was before, before it happened. But my patience was like an egg timer gradually getting smaller and smaller until I just broke out of the bubble I isolated us in. I was like a screaming baby and I demanded answers from my Rose, what had changed for her to act like this? And that was when...
Stands up urgently and knocks the chair over. She just stood there and roared “I’m not your Rose!” I froze trying to take it in but I couldn’t comprehend with her words, (tugs on his hair and grits teeth) they just drowned out inside my head, there was no noise but the silence spoke for itself. How do you make somebody love you? Speaks lower and quieter, Sits down slowly and puts head in hands. I didn’t understand what my Rose had become; her eyes squinted so tightly with her dimples so deep into her skin her teeth gritted against each other like decaying gravestones. Gets up and lobs the chair across the room, crying. I was trapped at the thought of her freedom. I stiffened with rage, my hands were so clamped into a fist that my nails slit open my bare skin, I watched as the skin cells gradually snapped away and drew blood. The four crumbling walls of plaster were closing in on me as they slid down like viscous treacle around my vulnerable self.
The happiness that I once thought me and my Rose shared burst like a popping red balloon. Bang. Reality. Punches the air.
Crying and screaming. I didn’t mean to do it my fist was oblivious to me, it grew higher and higher gaining more power and authority that I just couldn’t stop my actions it shot down like a soaring eagle and my Rose was the unlucky prey. One quick grab. One quick smack.
Breaths deeply and talks calm. And she was just lying there dead. My Rose. Blackout
Commentary My dramatic monologue, named “Alone” is a fictional text written to mirror a confession. The monologue is hyperbolic and creates a semantic field of exaggeration and an over the top character, this is shown through the dynamic verbs “erupted” and “bouncing”. The themes shown are isolation and loneliness, the dynamic verb “collapsed” and the pre modifier “vulnerable” are symbolic for these themes and show how solitariness is created for the character. Love is another theme shown, the verb phrases “heart thumping” and “adrenaline pumping “create imagery of passion. The character of the murderer is symbolic for a number of the dramatic themes: corruption of another life, issues of moral dilemma and a spur of emotions for the character putting them in conflict with themselves.
I wanted to create a character that would provoke enough anxiety from the audience that would leave them interested throughout. The immediately grabbing plots and dramatized character creates impact and suspension to put the audience on the edge of their seats. Dramatic lexis is used to create urgency and pace in the complex sentence: “But then I was dragged uncontrollably to her, the memories came shooting back like stars spinning around in my head, and she was there; here on earth.” The personal pronoun “my” shows his possessive nature to control the captive. The dynamic verb “spinning” which connotes insanity and a fast pace which is symbolic for the illusions of the capture believing that he can see his wife and all his judgements that are constantly with him that his “wife” does not love him anymore. The dynamic verb “spinning” fits with the rushing pace of the monologue along with the fast pace of complex sentences which shows how breathtaking this all is for him. However to create a contrast of feelings I used some positive lexis such as the concrete noun “stars” to metaphorically show the happy memories he shared with his wife, but also the symbolic status of stars that connotes glimpses of hope. The head word “Memories” is structured and revolved around the memories of the abductor and his deceased wife and how they are always with him like how the stars are always in the sky. I used a variation of complex, simple sentences and caesura to create different of tension and suspense. Caesura creates a sudden pause and draws you to a cliff hanger of realisation and this is shown through the quote “Bang. Reality.” The abstract noun “Reality” connotates how our dreams and hopes are pushed aside and realisation hits us, at this point in the monologue the capturer realises what he’s done, the onomatopoeia abstract noun “Bang” metaphorically shows him “waking up” from the world he created in his head and he then has to be faced with the truth of his imagination, also the onomatopoeic nature adds to the performance aspect of the monologue. The first person narrative captures the character fully as the focus is on the main character, there is reference to the other character “Rose” but they are all biased from this perspective. Small hints of second person narrative has been used to show possession and authority this is shown through the quote”That was it; she was mine again, breaths deeply my Rose.” The personal pronoun “My” suggests Rose is his property and she will be his forever and nothing will take her away from him, the dramatic irony that he believes he has won over nature and got Rose back is what is the underlying plot of the dramatic monologue is but blissfully unaware that she has gone from his grasp. He will never find his ideal is what appeals to the heightened emotions of the audience and the drama genre. Use of triadic structure is effective in the declarative sentence: “ I could have moved on, I could have turned off at the next junction even reversed back onto the main road”. This creates a conscience of what could of happened but never, it contrasts the two possible scenarios which is the undertone of the drama and how the two different scenarios would create two different outcomes, it also gives the reader a foreshadow ahead in the story that he went on to abduct her and forms the outline of the plot. The repetition of tripling could be symbolic for his thought process, how he was thinking of various outcomes over in his head, but always kept coming back to the same conclusion. The use of stage directions adds realism to the dramatic monologue and gives the audience a glance of how he looks and how he reacts to certain points, “Speaks lower and quieter, Sits down slowly and puts head in hands” this quote builds up the climax of the plot and creates a spontaneous atmosphere. The stage directions add extra information for the audience to see further into his emotions and actions, it adds realism and makes the speech spontaneous than a planned monologue.
Confessions of John Parker (John walks on stage, hands cuffed. He sits at the table in the centre and the recorder is started as he starts his confession) Peter Quentin. Even hearing his name makes my stomach churn. The corner of his eyes were wrinkling, his nose fat and red from drinking... his lips thin, his skin deadly pale making his veins.. Prominent and bulging. Although so lifeless, he had more power than any victim. I can remember him so well. (Fast paced and stressed speech) Seeing that abominable, immoral man walk freely; seeing grieving, oblivious neighbours pluck up the decency to greet him as he strolled by. Seeing his arms sway calmly by his sides knowing all too well what the hands on the end had done to those poor children. It is an unendurable pain. You see my mother was defective. (Voice shaky) I would arrive home from school to be welcomed by her half-dead slumped on the sofa. With an empty wine bottle slung on the floor. With a man that I had never even seen before. She didn’t care. My mother, she always wanted me out. She’s the reason I am so snafued, so aghast. (Mimics his mother) ‘Go next door and help Mr Quentin out, John, I have some business to sort out’. She put me in for this. I needed a plan of action. I needed to get rid of this cold blooded behemoth that lurked in the shadows at night. He snatched innocent souls and tore their life into millions of irremediable pieces. An experience and a memory like this could never be forgotten... never be forgiven. And it is recurrent. Even when every last bit of your dignity is destroyed. I confess, I confess to it all. (Emphasised speech) But you (bangs hand on table whilst saying ‘must’) MUST understand why I did this. (John begins to fidget and sit upright before confessing in detail) It began like this...; I walked by his home, peeping into his window, figuring out his daily routine. I knew he turned at midnight... he was like a werewolf actually. I watched every aspect of his contemptible, cataclysmic life. (Pauses for a few moments then begins speaking fast paced again) Quentin is an adroit man you know, he’s surreptitious. He knows how to cover his tracks and he knows how to eliminate anyone who gets in his way. But I couldn’t let him find out about me. I needed retribution. On the night it was somber outside; everything was motionless. But this next part changed everything... and I was predisposed. I saw him skulking out of his back gate. He was dressed dark. I ensconced behind a bush until I could see his silhouette in sight. I got my chloroform-soaked cloth ready. (Looks up confidently) I descended towards the man in front of me... I wrapped the poison around his nose and mouth...And watched as he fell like a lifeless carcass to the ground beneath us . I then seized his unwieldy body and lumbered it into the back of my car. (Regretful) I should have remembered to check him.
(Pauses for a minute) I felt a powerful tug on my neck and my head swung back in between the seats. He said to me (mimics his deep voice psychotically) ‘I know who you are and if you don’t let me go I’ll do it again’. I won’t forget that. I didn’t think. I swung my fist at his face, coercing him to release my neck from the strained lock he had me in. I threw punch after punch. I made the blood drip from his face. Immediately upon arrival to the woods, I dragged him out onto the grass...releasing a knife from my belt. (Crazed look in his eyes) The terror in his eyes gave me thrills, I’ll admit it. It gave me the adrenaline I could never achieve before. (Openly and calmly) I took the knife and slashed his cheek, cutting through the flesh. I stabbed his stomach and watched as he struggled and bled. I raised my knife... (Hesitantly) and punctured his crotch continuously. He couldn’t hurt a child as he did before. I pierced his stomach once again and twisted the knife. I didn’t want him to die instantly. I wanted him to bleed, to feel the pain. (Regretfully) I was crazed. I wasn’t myself. But I still did it, effortlessly. I had dug the hole earlier that week. Told you I was prepared (smirks). I threw his still-conscious body into the pit, threw the dirt over his face. His words were inaudible... I should have listened. But it was too late... And he was nothing anymore. As I left him buried, I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t realise. When I arrived home and saw Quentin’s face at the window (angrily) smirking at me like that... (Pauses) I promise I never meant to kill this man, I never meant to touch him. You must understand. (Shouts) I GOT THE WRONG MAN. I couldn’t feel any worse than I already do... (Abruptly) But, I am prepared to serve my sentence for what I have done. (Candidly and consistently) What Quentin did to me, you must understand why I attempted to be rid of this man. The times I would shiver in the night, sweat... Dripping off my forehead, my whole body aching. I remember what that man did to me. Just imagine that. If you just imagine how you would feel if that was your child... if the person you loved the most was touched in ways they objected to. He debilitated me. I was impuissant, violated. I feel humiliated by my life. So go ahead, lock me away, throw away the key... But I’ll never be as nefarious as he is. I don’t want to be put on the same wavelength as that monstrosity. Men like Quentin should not be breathing. They should not be allowed a life. I bet you’d be gratified if the plan worked. But honestly Detective, I didn’t mean to kill his brother.
Commentary ‘Confessions of John Parker’ is a dramatic monologue in the thriller genre. It is in written mode although the intention is that the piece is spoken and therefore contains some constituents of spoken language. The
purpose of the monologue is to entertain and it is aimed at an adult audience due to the sensitive subject of the monologue, exemplified in the past tense verbs ‘violated’ and ‘crazed’. The register fluctuates as there are elements of realistic speech. The verbs ‘snafued’ and ‘ensconced’ and the adjective ‘impuissant’ demonstrate the high register whilst the dynamic verb ‘seized’ and the adjective ‘prominent’ demonstrate more neutral register. The title of the dramatic monologue ‘Confessions of John Parker’ creates an active reader. In this noun phrase, the plural noun ‘confessions’, insinuates that the character may have a dark secret or that they may be involved in a regretful situation which relates to the thriller genre. The proper noun ‘John Parker’ gives the reader an insight into who the character is by revealing the gender; and because the name is ordinary, this is juxtaposed with the abstract noun ‘confessions’ as this implies that even the most normal of people can have secrets and regrets. The use of the proper noun in the minor sentence ‘Peter Quentin’ foregrounds the idea that this man will be the main subject of the monologue. The use of the simple sentence ‘Even hearing his name made my stomach churn.’ gives the audience an insight of what Peter means to John, and the dynamic verb ‘churn’ makes an active audience by raising suspicion of what Peter could have done to be seen in such disgust. Furthermore, the pre-modifying adjectives used to describe Peter such as; ‘Wrinkling’ ‘Fat’ ‘Lifeless’ and ‘Pale’ suggests to the audience that Peter is old and frail, but that these bad features aren’t enough for John, that he wants Peter to suffer more than he already appears to be. In addition, the nouns ‘behemoth’ and ‘monstrosity’ connote to the audience that this man has a sinful life, that he could have done something bad to John to create such hatred. The use of the pre-modifying adjective ‘Immoral’ degrades John as the audience are made to feel that John is on the same wavelength as Peter as he killed someone also. The dark atmosphere this pre modification creates relates to the thriller genre and makes the previous sympathy from the audience seem undeserved. The stage directions within the monologue create a sense of emotion in what John is saying, for example the parenthetical stage direction, ‘(Mimics his mother)’ shows the audience that John is disturbed and psychotic; this anecdotal reference to his mother creates an uncomfortable feeling within the audience, giving an insight on the crime John may have committed, making the audience question Peter’s sanity. The uses of the complex declarative sentence ‘My mother, she always wanted me out.’ Shows the audience the bitterness John has towards his mother which shows he partially blames her for his abuse. The adjective stage direction ‘(regretful)’ creates tension with the audience as it becomes conspicuous that something has gone wrong and it pains John to recite, which also creates sympathy. The capitalised simple declarative sentence ‘I GOT THE WRONG MAN.’ shows emphatic stress which is typical of a monologue and of spoken language; in front of this declarative sentence, the conventional use of parenthesis ‘(Shouts)’ gives addition to the way it should be spoken on stage which adds intensity to the noun phrase as it shows a genuine worry and anger. The way John speaks when being recorded shows the audience that he is desperate. The simple, imperative sentence ‘You must understand.’ connotes to the audience that John is trying to bribe the law to empathise with him. The use of the adverb ‘must’ shows urgency from John. The simple imperative sentence ‘Just imagine how you would feel if that was your child’ also shows despondency and instantly makes the audience think of their own child or loved one. The simple declarative sentence ‘I bet you’d be gratified if the plan worked’ makes an active audience, as they ponder whether the law would in fact be secretly satisfied. The use of the complex imperative sentence ‘So go ahead, lock me away, throw away the key’ breaks the prescriptive grammar rules, but using an asyndetic list is common of general speech therefore works well
within the monologue. The noun phrase ‘throw away the key’ suggests to the audience that John is willing to pay for his crime. The triadic structure of simple sentences ‘. Just imagine that.’, ‘It is an unendurable pain’ and ‘told you I was prepared’ shows how confused and hurt John is feeling, they all add to the deep and morbid emotion of John’s character, connect to the genre and bring out the audiences’ empathy. The use of the adjective ‘unendurable’ provokes emotion in the audience as John is trying to justify what he did but not directly so. The simple sentences also show constituents of the monologue and spoken language features because John says the lines in a natural, flowing way as all humans typically speak. The use of the concessive clause ‘Although so lifeless, he had more power than any victim’ supports the rest of the monologue as the audience know Peter’s victims were children, therefore he wouldn’t have to be as strong; the complex sentence supports this. The use of the concrete noun ‘victim’ makes the audience sympathise with John as the noun has connotations of violation, weakness and helplessness. The use of the conditional clauses ‘If you just imagine how you would feel if that was your child... if the person you loved the most was touched in ways they objected to.’ Provokes an emotional response from the audience as they would start to consider what they would actually do if somebody hurt their child. The use of the stative verb ‘Objected’ is juxtaposed with John’s crime as he mentions that the man he is killing was trying to say something yet John wouldn’t listen, he contradicts himself, which makes the audience lose sympathy.
(The stage is small and empty, except an old battered arm chair where the character is seated; the stage is lit with a single dim light, only making the character and chair visible. The character is an old woman, dressed in her nightgown. She is holding a cup of what seems to be tea.)
(Sighing pauses and looks thoughtfully at the cup in hands). I still miss her now, it’s funny, 53 years later and my heart still beats with that same pain it did when she was taken. Lucy. My best friend, (half smiles) All these years and I still remember it clearly… (Stares blankly into the distance; sniffs then snaps back to reality) (Takes a sip of tea). I loved my farther completely, he was such a kind- hearted and affectionate man but so awkward and shy; a complete contradiction to mother who was outgoing. To this day I don’t know how those two were a pairing; it’s probable they didn’t love each over, or even like each over. I think the only reason they stayed together was because of me.
Nothing exciting ever happened in Kingston, life passed and I was following its motions. I remember wishing constantly for something exciting to happen in our little town. I could never imagine the evil that would consume that wish. I was a normal teenage girl; I read magazines religiously and obsessed over fashion, what colour cardigan was popular and which colour best suited my complexion. (strokes her face romantically) I enjoyed going to the cinema and listening to records in the shops, dreaming of boys and falling out with friends. (Sighs) This bliss however was soon to end, everything was changing.
I remember the day we found out like it was yesterday. The only sound that could be heard was the screaming of the black wireless hunched in the corner of our small living room. Its speakers, like pointed daggers, almost teeth looking acted as the messenger of the news we had been dreading. The evil sound coming from the monster, masked the heavy breathing from all three of us. The only glimpse of what feelings lied beneath. Our faces cold and expressionless. War was upon us. Father’s fate was sealed.
Mother struggled badly; the worry was eating away at her, the constant torment of a possible life alone without farther, seemed the poison that consumed her heart. I knew if she felt I too was lost, it would be the tipping point into a pit of anxiety. This affected the decision I made of remaining in Kingston. I decided to stay Instead of being evacuated with everyone else to be hidden, masked by the shield evacuation brought. I missed my friends terrible. (Sighs looks down to the floor in anguish) It made war even more unbearable, there seemed only one ray of light from the storm of war; I already knew Lucy from my grammar school, the outbreak of war seemed the catalytic event that encouraged our friendship, we became dependant on each over to keep the normality we once had. Other the coming months we became inseparable. She was my best friend. (Pauses, sniffs as tears fill her eyes)
I made her a friendship bracelet for her birthday. I sat for hours piecing pretty beads, glitter and thread in an attempt to make something neat with the sparse rationed materials we had. The excitement on her face when she received the tiny gift, wrapped up in baby blue tissue paper made the tedious process worth it.
Ever Saturday morning she would come to our house while her mother was at work, I particularly looked forward to those Saturday mornings, the house felt full again as we baked and planted vegetables, mother coped better too. This particular Saturday was no different, as I walked to the place we always met, I discovered her not to be there; this was peculiar as she was always in our spot: the oak bench next to the cinema, it was very rare for her to be late. (Her eyebrows lowers and her forehead crinkle’s) After fifteen minutes or so I proceeded to walk down the path that led to her house, that’s when the bubble broke, the bubble that was keeping me blissfully oblivious to the evil that had consumed what used to be Lucy’s house,(grips tea cup tightly, the veins in her hands stand out disturbingly) that’s when I saw it, (voice cracks) what used to be her house, was now a huge smoking black monster of a thing, The fire had exhaled its evil smoke and took her, engulfed past the teeth into the mouth of the beast, the towering all consuming monster, dancing and singing, as it flames licked the air, tormenting me further, fire men were moving rubble and soot desperately trying to salvage anything and rescue them from the villainous beast; the only hope I clung to was that she felt no pain as her short life was stolen by the monster. Pain tore through me as I caught a glimpse of what the firemen had in his hand(she begins to cry, and pauses for a minute, brushes the tears away from her face and sighs heavily) he was holding her bracelet, the one neatly made with glitter and beads, given to her in blue tissue paper, she promised she never take it off as long as she lived,(pauses)……. she had kept her promise., the war had taken everything I cared about, my friends, my life, my school, my farther, the only hope left was that my father would return home well and healthy, that was the thing me and mother clung to desperately, that was all that we could do…. Hope. (Blackout)
Commentary ‘Evil Consumes All’ is a wartime dramatic monologue in the historical genre. It is written mode, however, the intention is that the piece is spoken therefore it features some constituents of spoken language, such as the use of paralanguage and contractions in the monologue for example‘(strokes her face romantically)’ this use of paralanguage shows a deeper understanding of how the character behaves and is suggestive she is reminiscing the past in which she had a positive relationship with. Contractions are also used for the same effect, such as ‘we’d’ and ‘you’d’ this is in keeping with the informal tone of the piece and creates a friendly tenor throughout the monologue. The purpose of the monologue is to entertain due to its performance context, it is aimed at an adult audience with a particular interest in the context of war. The register fluctuates from neutral to low and is used to reflect the time period as well as the characters lower class status for example the low register noun ‘baked’ and past. Participle verb ‘coped’ connotes a feeling of normality. A lexical field of a traditional wartime context is further expressed through the use of the colloquial concrete nouns ‘wireless’ and ‘record’ in the declarative complex sentence, ‘The only sound[…]small living room’. this cultural reference makes the monologue more credible, further engaging the audience.
The declarative noun phrase title of the monologue, ‘Evil Consumes All’ connotes a semantic feeling of misery and despair; this is further expressed through the use of the abstract noun ‘evil’, which is suggestive that the text may have an underlying theme of profound wickedness or the possibility of an unpleasant outcome. This combined with the verb ‘consumes’ in the title creates an active reader as a question is placed in their mind of what or who the evil is and what it has consumed. The verb ‘consumes’ also has connotations that everything is being taken over The description of the wireless in the first paragraph is particularly interesting; the use of the pre modification of the colloquial concrete noun ‘wireless’ with the adjective ‘black’ creates a semantic field of evil and misery and is suggestive that the news the wireless will deliver will be of anguish. As well as this, anthropomorphism of the wireless through the use of the dynamic verb ‘screaming’ in the simple declarative sentence, ‘The only sound that could be heard was the screaming of the black wireless hunched in the corner of our small living room’ connotes a feeling of pain and danger, thus making the wireless almost seem animalistic as it is ‘hunched’ in the corner of their living room. This is repeated later near the end of the monologue to describe the fire, in the complex declarative sentence, ‘the towering all consuming monster, dancing and singing, as it flames licked the air’ the dynamic verbs ‘dancing’ and ‘licking’ personify the fire and further extends the semantic field of evil and torment, as the fire almost mocks her for taking her friend. This is used to create a strong visual image of the fire, making the audience feel more emphatic toward the old woman, this use of cyclical structuiring
The use of metaphors is successful throughout the monologue, in the complex declarative sentence ‘that’s when the bubble broke, the bubble that was keeping me blissfully oblivious to the evil that had consumed what used to be Lucy’s house,’ the use of the concrete noun ‘bubble ’ to show her realization of what has happened, connotes an image of her floating and suddenly being brought back to earth as though a bubble would if it were pooped, this creates successful imagery for the reader and empathizes the pain she is feeling. Using the noun ‘evil’ in the complex declarative sentence, creates semantics of profound wickedness, especially in this context as though the evil is a person as opposed to a device used to describe an object, this use of evil as a noun creates an active reader and makes the moment we find out the mystery of what happened to Lucy much more of a suspenseful moment. The pragmatical implications of the lexis used in the monologue foreshadows a possible tragedy, this is shown through the use of the concrete noun ‘teeth’ running throughout the monologue in the complex declarative sentence. ‘It’s speakers, like pointed daggers, almost teeth looking acted as the messenger of the news we had been dreading’, this paired with the use of the noun ‘evil’ throughout the monologue foreshadows a possible tragedy and continues the underlining possibility of despair. This adds to the mystery and makes the climactic moment of realization of Lucy’s death even more impactful.