This is a monologue that I wrote, just for fun. I was planning on performing it for a competition, but it just never happened. It's just a rough draft that I wrote a while ago, so don't judge it too harshly, eh? It's also a lot better when it is being performed, since the wording is based on how I personally would express things.
Here's the scene: A psychiatrist's office. Javon, an annoyed looking 18-year-old, enters the office from a door across from a wooden desk. The psychiatrist, Doctor Kent, is a stubborn, blunt, middle-aged man. All of the following is said by Javon.
I'm doing well, thanks. I'm Javon Skye. [Sarcastically] New patient.
Actually, I'd prefer not to sit, Doctor... Kent was it? You see, I've already gone through three counselors, two doctors, and four other psychiatrists besides yourself, and, quite frankly, I know that there's nothing that you can do to help me.
My mind set?! My mind set isn't the problem. The problem is that trying to fix me by sending me to see psycho-analyzers is like trying to cure cancer with an ice-pack.
You're right. I've never actually discussed it with anyone, and I never will. There's no point. I have trouble sleeping--That's all. You can't help me. I'm gonna go ahead and leave now. [Tries door, it has been locked from the outside. Turns to Kent, anger rising]
Did my parents put you up to this? They think that if I'm locked in here then I'll just give and tell you? [Pauses] Look, I'm not telling you for your own... protection.
Oh, you think that's funny, do you? I mean, what could I possibly say that could be that bad? If I tell you, lives will be lost. Are you really willing to make that happen?
Well. That's... different. How much are they paying you if you get me to indulge my little... Secret?
As there is clearly no alternative in your eyes, I will tell you. I admit, it will be great to finally get it off of my chest.
[Looks Kent straight in the eyes, as he speaks he slowly returns to the desk, eventually sitting back down] As I'm sure my parents have told you, I don't just have trouble sleeping. Every so often, in the middle of the night, they hear me screaming. [Then as a sidenote:] They don't even bother to check in on me anymore.
The wording "every so often" doesn't exactly describe the pattern that actually exists. My parents just haven't noticed it. I scream, in fact, every sixth time that I fall asleep, though I have reason to scream much more often than that.
You see, there's a brief moment between being awake and being asleep. It is that instance when you feel weightless, when you're only half-conscious. I no longer experience that sensation, such is the nature of my curse. It has been replaced with... [struggles to come up with a word to describe it for a moment] with death.
Let me start from the beginning. On the night of my tenth birthday, my grandfather took me aside and revealed to me that I had been born with the family curse. That it afflicted every other generation. He told me that it would take effect that very night. Even though he told me exactly what was going to begin to happen to me, nothing could've prepared me for the first night.
My parents tucked me in as usual, it had been a great birthday, and I had already pushed what my grandfather had told me out of my mind. It seemed impossible. Right before sleep overtook my young body, though the curse proved itself to be real.
I screamed for the first time as I felt my throat be roughly slit. I saw no assailant, I only saw the blood on my hands that had flown to my neck, and felt the warm liquid streaming onto my chest. My parents rushed into the room as I continued to shriek. They came to my side and began shaking me, insisting that it was "just a nightmare."
And then I died.
And then... I woke up.
I had experienced the first death in a cycle of six. During breakfast my parents mentioned my "nightmare", and my grandfather's words creeped back into my memory: If I told anyone about the curse, I wouldn't wake up the next morning. So I told my parents that I didn't remember anything. [Painfully] To this day I still tell them the same thing.
Of course, I mentioned that it is a cycle of six. The second time I give in to sleep, I drown. Water suddenly fills my lungs and spills out of my mouth. I can see the water, hear it, feel it, taste it. But no one else can. [Bitterly] I'm the only one who can't breathe. I'm the only one that gets to perceive myself fighting desperately for air, and losing that fight for my life.
[Begins to sound slightly hysterical] The third death, in sadistic contrast to the last, is thirst. Imagine, Doctor, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You're struck by sudden helplessness. You feel your organs shriveling within you, and you die along with them.
The fourth "rest" is to be crushed. You can't imagine the pain. Every bone in my body strains and shatters just for sleep, a necessity. The fifth is to freeze. Strangely, it is my favorite way to die. The cold itself numbs the initial pain it causes, and I quickly lose the ability to comprehend that my body is shutting down.
I remind you that I only scream every sixth night. After eight years with this curse, I have learned to anticipate and mentally prepare myself for the first five. [Leans forward, finally looking Kent in the eyes for the first time] But I tell you, there is no way to prepare yourself to watch and feel your own flesh being consumed by flames.
That is why I still scream.
And that's only half of the curse. [Hysteria growing] You see, I'm not a fool, Doctor. My mother once made a comment when I was sixteen years old which doubled my curse. I learned that I could get rid of my curse at any time by passing it on to anyone else. But how could I bring myself to do that to someone? How could I knowingly cause another person to go through so much pain?
The comment that my mother made was one she said to my father, I just overheard. She said, "I was thinking about Javon and I remembered that my mom mentioned that his grandfather
(may he rest in peace) also used to scream in his sleep. So I called her up to see what made him stop. She said that he screamed almost every night for six years, but suddenly stopped another six years ago. I can only hope that Javon will grow out of it as well."
[Suddenly deathly serious] I realized something that day. A series of six deaths, the sixth being the worst, and he stopped after six years. Six... six... six. My grandfather, he didn't just tell me about the curse that I "already had" when I was ten; he gave me the curse. You see, Doctor Kent, six years completes the curse. After that time frame, the curse can be passed on simply by telling someone about the existence of the curse.
I kept the curse for eight years. When I said that lives would be lost if I told you, you probably didn't even consider that they would all be your own.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I'm tired, and now I can sleep.
Here's the scene: A psychiatrist's office. Javon, an annoyed looking 18-year-old, enters the office from a door across from a wooden desk. The psychiatrist, Doctor Kent, is a stubborn, blunt, middle-aged man. All of the following is said by Javon.
I'm doing well, thanks. I'm Javon Skye. [Sarcastically] New patient.
Actually, I'd prefer not to sit, Doctor... Kent was it? You see, I've already gone through three counselors, two doctors, and four other psychiatrists besides yourself, and, quite frankly, I know that there's nothing that you can do to help me.
My mind set?! My mind set isn't the problem. The problem is that trying to fix me by sending me to see psycho-analyzers is like trying to cure cancer with an ice-pack.
You're right. I've never actually discussed it with anyone, and I never will. There's no point. I have trouble sleeping--That's all. You can't help me. I'm gonna go ahead and leave now. [Tries door, it has been locked from the outside. Turns to Kent, anger rising]
Did my parents put you up to this? They think that if I'm locked in here then I'll just give and tell you? [Pauses] Look, I'm not telling you for your own... protection.
Oh, you think that's funny, do you? I mean, what could I possibly say that could be that bad? If I tell you, lives will be lost. Are you really willing to make that happen?
Well. That's... different. How much are they paying you if you get me to indulge my little... Secret?
As there is clearly no alternative in your eyes, I will tell you. I admit, it will be great to finally get it off of my chest.
[Looks Kent straight in the eyes, as he speaks he slowly returns to the desk, eventually sitting back down] As I'm sure my parents have told you, I don't just have trouble sleeping. Every so often, in the middle of the night, they hear me screaming. [Then as a sidenote:] They don't even bother to check in on me anymore.
The wording "every so often" doesn't exactly describe the pattern that actually exists. My parents just haven't noticed it. I scream, in fact, every sixth time that I fall asleep, though I have reason to scream much more often than that.
You see, there's a brief moment between being awake and being asleep. It is that instance when you feel weightless, when you're only half-conscious. I no longer experience that sensation, such is the nature of my curse. It has been replaced with... [struggles to come up with a word to describe it for a moment] with death.
Let me start from the beginning. On the night of my tenth birthday, my grandfather took me aside and revealed to me that I had been born with the family curse. That it afflicted every other generation. He told me that it would take effect that very night. Even though he told me exactly what was going to begin to happen to me, nothing could've prepared me for the first night.
My parents tucked me in as usual, it had been a great birthday, and I had already pushed what my grandfather had told me out of my mind. It seemed impossible. Right before sleep overtook my young body, though the curse proved itself to be real.
I screamed for the first time as I felt my throat be roughly slit. I saw no assailant, I only saw the blood on my hands that had flown to my neck, and felt the warm liquid streaming onto my chest. My parents rushed into the room as I continued to shriek. They came to my side and began shaking me, insisting that it was "just a nightmare."
And then I died.
And then... I woke up.
I had experienced the first death in a cycle of six. During breakfast my parents mentioned my "nightmare", and my grandfather's words creeped back into my memory: If I told anyone about the curse, I wouldn't wake up the next morning. So I told my parents that I didn't remember anything. [Painfully] To this day I still tell them the same thing.
Of course, I mentioned that it is a cycle of six. The second time I give in to sleep, I drown. Water suddenly fills my lungs and spills out of my mouth. I can see the water, hear it, feel it, taste it. But no one else can. [Bitterly] I'm the only one who can't breathe. I'm the only one that gets to perceive myself fighting desperately for air, and losing that fight for my life.
[Begins to sound slightly hysterical] The third death, in sadistic contrast to the last, is thirst. Imagine, Doctor, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You're struck by sudden helplessness. You feel your organs shriveling within you, and you die along with them.
The fourth "rest" is to be crushed. You can't imagine the pain. Every bone in my body strains and shatters just for sleep, a necessity. The fifth is to freeze. Strangely, it is my favorite way to die. The cold itself numbs the initial pain it causes, and I quickly lose the ability to comprehend that my body is shutting down.
I remind you that I only scream every sixth night. After eight years with this curse, I have learned to anticipate and mentally prepare myself for the first five. [Leans forward, finally looking Kent in the eyes for the first time] But I tell you, there is no way to prepare yourself to watch and feel your own flesh being consumed by flames.
That is why I still scream.
And that's only half of the curse. [Hysteria growing] You see, I'm not a fool, Doctor. My mother once made a comment when I was sixteen years old which doubled my curse. I learned that I could get rid of my curse at any time by passing it on to anyone else. But how could I bring myself to do that to someone? How could I knowingly cause another person to go through so much pain?
The comment that my mother made was one she said to my father, I just overheard. She said, "I was thinking about Javon and I remembered that my mom mentioned that his grandfather
(may he rest in peace) also used to scream in his sleep. So I called her up to see what made him stop. She said that he screamed almost every night for six years, but suddenly stopped another six years ago. I can only hope that Javon will grow out of it as well."
[Suddenly deathly serious] I realized something that day. A series of six deaths, the sixth being the worst, and he stopped after six years. Six... six... six. My grandfather, he didn't just tell me about the curse that I "already had" when I was ten; he gave me the curse. You see, Doctor Kent, six years completes the curse. After that time frame, the curse can be passed on simply by telling someone about the existence of the curse.
I kept the curse for eight years. When I said that lives would be lost if I told you, you probably didn't even consider that they would all be your own.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I'm tired, and now I can sleep.
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