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Featured Monologues

a short monologue

I talk to animals because they listen... they watch my every word with their curious eyes and twitch their little ears in anticipation of my next breath. They let me ramble and never judge. When I am sad, they comfort me with a cuddle, and when I am happy, they dance at my delight. No one else has the patience or the time. Deep down i must be an animal too. I belong in the trees, whispering with the wind, babbling with the brooks, dancing among the dandelions. I am a creature with fangs and fur and feathers. No human can comprehend my primitive musings... I am mysterious, misread, misunderstood... by everyone except you.


Copyright (c) 2018 by D. M. Larson

a short monologue

I hold an empty shell to my ear and listen to the whispers of the world above. I yearn to understand and know what they speak about, what do they dream, what do they feel? I wonder if they care like we do and love as much. So many fear them, but I want to know them, I wish to unlock their secrets. Their whispers speak to me without words, calling me, drawing me closer. I hope to gain their trust and unlock their mysteries. I will show everyone there is nothing to fear. I will make them our friends and bring our people together. When we show kindness, we see kindness. When we show respect, we see respect. When we show fear, we see fear, and hate, and anger... I trust you... and you will learn to trust me... come... come into the waters and hold my hand... and I will lead you into our hearts.


Copyright (c) 2018 by D. M. Larson

by D. M. Larson

It's a chilly night. The freezing wind bites at every exposed part of my body. Most were huddled in a small cafe near the bus station. They seemed happy with their coffee and warmth, thankful for a dime a cup deal. As I got near them, they got quiet. Puffs of smoke divided our worlds, each of us isolated in our thoughts. The cold kept me moving.

As I moved further into the depths of downtown, and as I drew closer to the division, the number of bars multiplied, their neon lights almost endless. Many of people who end up on the streets are alcoholics and there were plenty of places for them to find their old friends. The homeless wandering here have no place to be this night, alone and not as cheerful as the ones in the cafe. They were probably feeling the cold as I was, but I didn't live here. I could escape. This is all they had, feeling the cold's bitter embrace, some shivering frightfully because they didn't even have the luxury of gloves as I did. Upon seeing me, they all would scatter, taking another street, moving to an alleyway. And when I passed, they often would watch us go by, curious, but unwilling to speak. They would turn away after I passed, often disappearing into alleys and doorways, wanting nothing more than to be forgotten.

A homeless man with a stray cat following him like a puppy, ever anxious for the other's warmth in the bitter wind. Together they were a picture of a certain happiness and joy that I could never comprehend. The two disappeared together through a door going someplace that only they shared, separate from all else.

Hurt, anger, or loneliness. I could step away ... and have my coffee and hot breakfast. But they couldn't. They were trapped there, behind the smoky glass.


From the book "Me in Pieces" by D. M. Larson
ISBN-13: 978-1981312054 Book
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