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Red- A Different Perspective
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Red- A Different Perspective
Again about Red- the homeless man, but from the view of a curious passer by.
When I was trying to find my HSC monologue, I had the hardest time, until I wrote it. But seeing my classmates struggle to find there's I know there are many students who can't find them easily, so I;m putting these up to help those students AS WELL as anybody else who finds reading them useful.
Feedback and comments on how to improve are very much appreciated, and indeed wanted. Thankyou.
|AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (2)
Alice In Wonderland? (Dramatic Monologue) (Plays) What if Alice got trapped in Wonderland? I did this for my HSC, the trial markers said it was a great script. There are bits and pieces that I had changed for the HSC and bits that I had removed alt... [1,626 words] [Comedy]
Red (A Monologue) (Plays) A homeless man named Red tells his side of life. [857 words]
Red- A Different Perspective
Everyday was the same, I'd wake up, get ready for work and then leave, and everyday I'd walk across the same roads, the same shops, the same people. Only one person held my attention though, an older man, with raggedy hair, clothed in scraps of material held together with dirty, old, fraying rope. Occasionally he'd be talking- to himself, to a passing person even to an animal, always with that same expression on his face, that expression of disappointment and anguish of a life wasted. I always walked close enough to hear him talk about his life, but never close enough for him to call me over. But then one day I noticed something that I had never noticed before. A cardboard sign was placed next to him, written in a shaky handwriting, “No one belongs here more than me”. Curiosity got the better of me, and as I edged closer I just listened to him, concerning myself with the hopelessness in his voice.
He stopped his apparently nonsensical rant and stared at me, hopeful yet wary and afraid, and I just continued to stare at his sign, wondering why somebody would write something that ridiculous or whether it made perfect sense, and I was missing the point of it. That's when he spoke to me “Hi, my name's Red... I'm glad you stopped by, even if it was just to read my sign”. I nodded to him and started to walk away after dropping a few coins into his little bucket, but a cry from him made me turn around. I looked at him and he just sat there looking at me in sadness, he was whispering something ever so softly “Am I human?” I almost disregarded the question and was about to head off on my way again, but then I saw that sign again, I wanted to make sense of that sign, there was no reason behind the need, I checked my watch, I was a little ahead of schedule and my inquisitive nature made me move closer again, he looked at me with those sad eyes again and I winced, I could never imagine how it would feel to be so isolated, and so I sat on the floor opposite and asked him to explain the sign to me.
He smiled, a sad and haunting smile that told some of the misery that the man wearing it had known. He took a deep breath, and started telling me his story, and while he did I looked around. From there on the ground the only thing you could see was people. Couples smiling lovingly at each other, boys and girls, men and women, families laughing sharing a fleeting moment of happiness. His voice stopped breaking me from my gaze. “That's where I want to be” is what he said, “Up there with those happy faces, there, knowing that there's someone other than me I can count on”
And as I watched a tear, slid down his cheek, and in that one tear, I knew how much he hurt. He didn't have anyone, he started to tell me that there were three groups of people, those that pitied him, those that glared at him, and those that hated him. He told me he didn't like any of those groups, he didn't like the way in which he was pitied, he didn't like being glared at and he didn't like being spat on and stolen from, “They don't steal much, but they steal everything I have”
I started to get up desperate to get away from the loneliness that exuded from him, it was overwhelming, heart breaking, and I could only sit there and watch as another tear fell. The moment I stood he started to scream “Just five more minutes of your time, just five more minutes” I returned to the seat opposite him waiting to hear more of his story, but instead he kept on screaming “If I was to die today, who would miss me? Not those people over their shopping, not that couple over there and not even you, boy, not even you! It would take months before someone even thought or said “Oh I wonder where that old homeless man has gone?! And that would only ever be a fleeting curiosity before I disappeared from any memory they might ever have had” and he was quiet again, the tears still quietly falling, wiping his face with his dirty hand, he whispered sorry and sat there still. I sat there still as well, not entirely sure what my reaction should be.
After a minute of silence, listening to the noises of the smiling people he spoke again. “I just need to know I'm still a human being, I need to know that I haven't been turned into a lump of rubbish sitting on the side of the road, I need to know” and he kept on repeating the mantra of 'I need to know'. I once more attempted to leave the barrier of loneliness set around him, this time there was no screaming, but, instead, a fall of his head as if saying- left alone again. I reached into my pocket and grabbed a handkerchief, placing it on the blanket he was sitting on, he looked up slowly, a glint of excitement in his eyes, the best gift that anyone had ever given him.
It was at that moment I ran. I couldn't take the knowledge of the immense pain that he was suffering. I couldn't imagine the heartache he must feel everyday, waking up to find that the only thing you have to look forward to is somebody not spitting on you. The fact that the only things he owns are those scrappy clothes, the tears and the isolation of being. But what really haunted me was the message his sign proclaimed to anyone who would care “No one belongs here more than me”... I still don't wholly understand it, I'm not sure anyone does, but I do know that it has a meaning, one that keeps an old worn out man enough strength to keep living every day, working through the pain and fear of existence, not having anything to fight for, but fighting anyway, always saying: “I need to know... I just need to know”.
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