Scripted Monologue: Red Poppies

Authors Avatar

Claire Newby, Monologue.

Scripted Monologue: Red Poppies

Alice stands in the kitchen with a cup in her hand, it’s very dark. She is in her dressing gown, her hair tied back neatly in a bun.

Had a bad dream, eighteen and still having bad dreams. Reminds me of when I was little, mum would come in and sooth me back to sleep every single time. Every morning afterwards I would run out into the garden and pick red poppies from the field they were her favourite. She would tell me all about granddad and the war. Every year we would put poppies on the war memorial and on his grave, he didn’t die in the war, about ten years later he passed away, I remember asking did he have enough time, on earth I meant, everybody has exactly the same number of hours a day that were given to Pasteur, Michelangelo, Mother Teresa, Thomas Jefferson and Albert Einstein, one of her favourites that one, of course she had just quoted it, like all the others. (Pauses to think) grandma died afterwards, mum said she had no reason to live with out him; they were in love, in love like me and your dad. She adored him; she would tell me about how they met. We would just sit in the poppy field all day, She saw nothing wrong with the world, that’s why I adored her.

Join now!

Alice sits at the table in a dark room, an unlabelled bottle on the table, half empty with transparent liquid in it. Face is pale, she looks tired. Hair sits loosely in a bobble.

Looking back now, I suppose she was looking through rose coloured glasses. (Sips out of the bottle) she didn’t even notice. (Sips again out the bottle I'll never forget that first sip, I loved it.  I never shared it, I didn't need to. I had finally found my "it" and it was magic.  I knew in the first sip I had found the kind of ...

This is a preview of the whole essay