Monologue
Monologue
- Laments
Author: Cattie
Taylor
Genre:
Books / Plays The Crucible (Forced to place in Misc.
Musicals / Plays for now, due to absence of wanted category.)
Disclaimer:
None of the mentioned characters are mine. The belong to Arthur Miller. okay?
~*~*~
A young,
blonde haired puritan girl is standing by the shore, near a boat deck. Another
girl, presumably her friend, waves for her to join her and the others, on
boarding the boat. She stands, and as she walks slowly towards the boat, as if
it is her doom, her funeral carriage, come to take her away, she starts to talk,
to herself. The muttered words leaving her lips hang heavily in the air, she's
speaking of death, of witchery.
But surely
this isn't Abigail Williams, that child from Salem?
Or maybe
it is, she has a certain aura about her, the aura of death.
~*~
"I am not running
away, I am not running away. I am – am running away.
No! Wait, I'm not
running away!
It isn't my fault. It
isn't. It's Tituba, she started it all.
It's Elizabeth, she
married John. My John.
It's Mary, Mary and her
stupid 'It were pretence, sir'.
Pretence. Pretence.
Pretence! I'll give her pretence!
She's too weak, they
all are. Mercy, Susanna, Ruth, Betty, all of them! But especially Mary.
'It were pretence sir,
it were pretence' Stupid child.
What was there to be
gained by that? Nothing. Nothing at all, and there was everything to lose.
And I lost it. I lost
John, thanks to her stupidity. I might as well just let Elizabeth have him!
She was meant to die, not
him, not my John.
How did it ever get this
bad? We were just joking around, pretending, how did it get to killing people?
That was an amazing
thrill, though. Having that power over someone. It was like one great big rush,
you were in charge, you got to say whether they lived or died. No one else, you.
I was scared at first,
who wouldn't be? I could have been found out at any second, killed for lying.
But with every person it
got easier and easier, till I felt nothing at all when I cried out, not even
against Mary.
It went wrong, though.
Why couldn't John just give up on her? That ice queen. I would be so
much better for him.
Or, rather, I could have
been so much better for him. But he's gone now.
My John.
Oh, it was so easy to
lie, why couldn't everyone else? Why hold onto that stupid belief?
Where was their precious
God when they stood on the gallows? Where was their darling, all-powerful God
when that rope tightened against their neck?
I'll tell you. Anywhere
but there.
But, they still believed
they were going like saints. What a sham.
It could all be true,
though. It could. But I'm not saying I believe.
Like it would make a
difference now anyway. I'm a polluted shell of a person. Nothing more than a
wretched mass of darkness, with a saccharine sweet cover, and a haunted
conscience.
I killed them, oh, I
killed them. Killed them all!
No, wait, Abigail, pull
yourself together, what are you saying?
I am not, no way in
hell, guilty, and I have no conscience. I'm just going to get on
this boat, and leave.
No goodbyes, no
farewells, and definitely no turning back.
There's only place for
me to go now. To Lucifer."
~*~