Today was the day I set the world on fire. With a boy like smile and enthusiasm I ended their suffering and set them free. Their cries brought joy to me and I became Him. Him, who they feared, but loved. Him, who brought joy to their lives but controlled them. I became god himself to these people, as they now begged me for mercy.But I shall show no mercy to these unworthy sinners, and as their god I will divide those who are good and those who are evil. To create a world that will be purified with fire and cleansed with fear.
Okay so you've titled this as a Monologue which means it should probably be in Other unless it's a Monologue within a script? I'm not sure about that but if it's a stand alone piece let me know and I can move it across for you
It's a little short and vague for my liking. I'd quite like to see a longer piece where the reader gets to know more about the character (who they are, how they've come to feel this way, think this way) and the events (in what way has this character become God? Have they become ruler of a country or is it in more the metaphorical sense? Power over a small group of people?).
I think what bothers me is that I don't know what's going on. Anything could be happening, you don't give enough hints to pin-point the story-line so expand the piece and see where it takes you. Maybe start by asking yourself questions about the character and the events:
Has this character always loved the suffering of others or has he been changed in some way? Is this character old or young? How might you show that? Is this Monologue aimed at a particular audience? I love Monologues, expecially when they seem to build a second character, the listener into the piece so that the reader feels like they're a third party observer. Have you ever read Stealing by Duffy? It might give you some ideas. Here you go:
'Stealing
The most unusual thing I ever stole? A snowman. Midnight. He looked magnificent; a tall, white mute beneath the winter moon. I wanted him, a mate with a mind as cold as the slice of ice within my own brain. I started with the head.
Better off dead than giving in, not taking what you want He weighed a ton; his torso, frozen stiff, hugged to my chest, a fierce chill piercing my gut. Part of the thrill was knowing that children would cry in the morning. Life's tough.
Sometimes I steal things I don't need. I joy-ride cars to nowhere, break into houses just to have a look. I'm a mucky ghost, leave a mess, maybe pinch a camera. I watch my gloved hand twisting the doorknob. A stranger's bedroom. Mirrors. I sigh like this -Aah.
It took some time. Reassembled in the yard, he didn't look the same. I took a ru and booted him Again. Again. My breath ripped out in rags. It seems daft now. Then I was standing alone amongst lumps of snow, sick of the world.
Boredom. Mostly I'm so bored I could eat myself. One time, I stole a guitar and thought I might learn to play. I nicked a bust of Shakespeare once, flogged it, but the snowman was strangest. You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?' ~Duffy~
That was a good poem....oh sorry monologue....did i say monologue i meant script......SCRIPT!! That didn't even pass for a scri talkless of script. It would be better if it was a poem. You are a poet not a scriptwriter.
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