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Write a dramatic monologue in which either Stella, Blanche or Stanley reflect on their domestic circumstances at a particular point in the play.

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Introduction

Write a dramatic monologue in which either Stella, Blanche or Stanley reflect on their domestic circumstances at a particular point in the play. Dramatic monologue-Blanche End of scene 9 'With a startled gasp, Mitch turns and goes out of the outer door, clatters awkwardly down the steps and around the corner of the building. Blanche staggers back from the window and falls to her knees. The distant piano is slow and blue' [Silence] [Still on her knees, her breathing is heavy and laboured. Tears roll down her cheeks and she is wringing her hands as the 'Varsouviana' now plays softly in the background] Not clean enough...not clean enough...how many times must I bathe, to make myself clean enough, for him, for anybody? [Sitting back on her heels, she examines her hands] O god...o dear god...clean...clean...clean as a whistle...haha [She whistles a verse from 'It's only a Paper Moon'] Why a whistle? Such a curious phrase...a whistle...why what is so clean about a whistle?...As clean as [she looks about as if searching for an answer]...as clean as, a new born babe, bathed in a mountain stream, then wrapped in a crisp white muslin cloth. ...read more.

Middle

Reve...left when I needed her most...when Ma and Pa and all the others needed her most...left me to deal with all that death...Now breathless] [Gunshot. She screams and drops to her knees. She clasps her hands around her head and rocks gently forwards and backwards.] [Softly] Be silent in that solitude, Which is not loneliness- for then The spirits of the dead, who stood In life before thee, are again In death around thee, and their will Shall overshadow thee; be still. Oh! But where were my spirits Mr Poe? No spirits for me, only loneliness. Long hours of hateful loneliness and emptiness. The dead were dead...and pulling me with them-with Him...a half of my soul and very being had already died with my boy...was I just to succumb to Hades's call?...I was always the beautiful one...I always excited so much admiration, from so many fine men in my youth...Stella was jealous for sure...I needed affection, attention...is it so wrong to want to feel wanted...sure on some occasions I had to...to debase myself...but...but...you see I-I couldn't ...read more.

Conclusion

He will be back of course...Mitch...with a dozen long stem, grand prix red roses. He'll beg for my forgiveness...he will get down on his knees and implore me to take him back. He may very well ask me to marry him. Ha! But I won't take him back, and I-I certainly won't be marrying him. I am not sure he could have given me what I needed anyway. In being with Mitch there is a sense of stability, a mutual understanding of what it is to be lonely...but I need more than that, a cultivated woman of substance and rich ancestral heritage needs more than that. [She rises and crosses to the dresser. She picks up the bottle of Southern Comfort; turning the bottle in her hand, she studies the label.] O the irony...the south holds no comfort for the likes of me anymore...I guess I'm apart of the last remnants of the glorious yesteryear. [She pours herself a shot, then raises her glass] To the death of southern gentility...and to me a remnant of southern aristocracy...the last of the southern belles... [She drains the glass] ?? ?? ?? ?? Fryer ...read more.

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