first year - Feb. 13, 2014 - Feb. 13, 2015
I've continued with a monologue a day until the spirit moves me to stop, so if you have any ideas for a monologue you want me to write, please let me know at tigerteam1@gmail.com.
If you just started this blog and want to read the earlier monologues-
To start at the beginning - Feb. 13, - click here.
For a list of the blurbs from each day, click here There are now over 565!
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If you'd like to write your own monologues, I happen to have a book for that -
How to Write a Monologue in 10 Easy Lessons (Well, maybe not so easy)
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Monologue Mania Day #585 Stolen by Janet S. Tiger Sept. 20, 2015
Stolen
A monologue by Janet S. Tiger
© all rights reserved
(The woman comes onstage - she is a teenager, dressed in 1940s clothing, very upset, slight European accent)
I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do it......really! I never took anything before.....I just....wanted something new....something pretty....it was just a photo frame I took, nothing fancy.....
(Begging) Please.....I don't want to go to jail....I'm so embarrassed.....I did it just because....well, on my social security I can't buy many things, everything is so expensive.....
(She looks around, seeing a different time)
Years ago....when I was young, the Nazis came and I had to leave my home, in Austria....to go far away, without my parents. I had a doll, a favorite doll, a beautiful doll, and it was the only thing they allowed me to take that wasn't clothing or underwear. I held that doll on the train, but then I fell asleep, crying, because I wondered when I would see my parents again.
I woke up to find that someone had taken my doll, I ran around crying and yelling and looking for my doll, and they told me to stop crying, not to make noise....to be quiet. It was dangerous to make noise....
So I stopped crying. I learned.....to keep quiet. Not to be noticed. But inside, something happened to me.
When I got to England, the first time I was able to get away from the family that took me in, I went to a store in London.....and I stole a doll. It looked a little like the one I had, but not really, just enough to cry over. I hid it from the family so they would never know that they had taken in a thief.
(Trying not to cry) That stolen doll represented everything that I was losing......my parents, my friends, the life I knew.....if everything I loved could be taken from me, what difference did anything make? So what if I took some silly doll? Or lipstick? Or a five-dollar bill from a purse left open next to me on the bus?
(Almost in tears) But I'm not really a thief.....I'm 87 years old now, and I really didn't want that nice shiny photo frame ....the frame with the picture of that nice family ......I just....want back....all those memories that were stolen....from me....
(She bows her head. Lights down.)
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Janet S. Tiger 858-736-6315
JanetSTigerMonologueMania.blogspot.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8
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