This is a monolouge we had to write for my drama class. I liked it so I thought I'd put it up. We were acting out the story of Brenda Ann Smith - if you haven't heard of it, look it up ;)
The day I became alone was the day of the shooting. I've lost you forever - I know that, but you still visit me. I'm sure of it; I hear a voice, your voice. And rarely, very rarely, I see you. Your bright hazel eyes and long dark brown hair. Your patterned skirts and bold tops. Oh you here again: "It's okay, love, you're going to be fine. Just remember that one day in the far, far future we can be together again." Your silky soft, throaty voice says. *Gasp* You're here! I can see you! Oh my gosh, I can't believe your here! But... you look more real then before, maybe it's actually you! Wait, no. It can't be you. You died trying to save me. You died for me... But maybe this time I can touch you - you look real enough! Or perhaps if I pray hard enough you'll come back.
Please, oh please God, let her be back. She's the most important thing in the world to me, please let her be real again. I love her more than anything in the world. I didn't mean anything when ever I shouted at her - like the morning of the shooting. I love her so much, she was the only family I had left, she was my world...
Nothing. Noone. I'm still alone. What was I thinking?! Noone - not even God - can bring you back. You're dead. Dead, dead, dead as a doornail, and I've just got to accept that and move on.
Only I can't. Everything I see reminds me of you: when I pass the bakery every morning, I remember the days when we would go there every Tuesday after school; even seeing the birds in the garden makes me think of you.
You'd go out every week to feed them whilst I watched from the window, they were your favourite animal - you had so many tops and skirts with them on, you even had a bluebird necklace and bracelet set. They were your favourites - bluebirds, I mean. You loved it so much when one of them flew into the garden.
I remember this one time when I was playing on the swing and fell off backwards. I banged the back of my head and was crying my eyes out. You came to see me when a bunch of bluebirds flew over. Your eyes lit up with happiness - seeing you so happy made me happy....
Brenda Ann Smith; that's one name I'll never forget. You didn't deserve to die - it should have been me. I loved you, and always will; after all, you were my mum.