I had put the forests with their delicate shades of autumn dying feast behind me and the land of my Grandfather into perspective. The stories he had told me as I sat helpless, intoxicated by adventure and a noble spirit inside the frame of a now large man, weathered by time, eaten away by the wrongs he had caused his family, triumphant in the blasts of heroic failures and the conquering of young delusions and milestones, all were lapped up by a young mind powerless to stop the imagination from flooding over in torrents; wave after wave of images that he brought to life with a sensitive and yet commanding air, I now had buried in the forests where the buses refused to go and where the Timber Wolves sit waiting to harvest the dead.
Tag Archives: monologues by Ian D. Hall
Small Change.
Spare some change, alright thank you. Spare some change Sir. Yeah right of course you have, completely out, you say that every day! Just speak into this you say? Yes I’m homeless, it wasn’t my fault, I probably didn’t help myself that’s true enough but in a world where it has become…acceptable to look down upon someone lower than yourself for fear of being spat upon as well, for the dread that sits inside you that you might find yourself being pissed upon by a Friday night reveller, the party goer who finds the inside of the entry the perfect place in which to let go of their hard earned cash and curry mixed with vodka, that dread is only ever three pay days away and unless you are lucky, I mean really lucky, then the spiral goes on and on until one day you manage to find a mirror and you wonder what happened to the girl with dreams.
An Evening With…
There is a sense of sensuality attached to what I do. Playing the piano in the semi darkness and ill-lit rooms of various pubs, clubs and saloons of this fair city for the price of a good meal and of course the money I receive helps keep me in clothes that I could not afford to buy on the salary as insignificant as mine. Apart from that I do it because I can, because somewhere the extrovert needs feeding and if not to the wolves then to my own self-worth.
The Monologued Mutineer.
My Last Words…
So these will be my final last words. They won’t be recorded; they won’t be repeated in history as in anyway being famous and they will never know of my story beyond the walls of this…prison in which I have kept my own counsel for the past five days. I will say to you now as they offer me a blindfold in which to avoid the staring eyes, deep blue on one, so blue that I could swim and frolic amongst the stars that are reflected on the top as they too dance and shout with a hope of the future to come. They have my future deeply locked within them, he or one of the others will take my life and extinguish it forever. Not for any other crime except for not wanting to fight anymore.