Hello there world, it’s DeeJayKay here and I’ve decided that whilst at minimum I want to post a part of my story once a month, I do want to post a little more. So I’ve decided to do a Portfolio series. This is where I post some of my old written creations; they maybe be plays, short stories, poems or lyrics. In the first part of each segment, I plan on showing the unedited original version and I’ll go into the background of it to give a behind the scenes look at when I was written it. Then the following part will be an improved version of the original. When I say improved I mean that I plan on either re-creating it in a new format so a play to a prose or a poem to a play etc. If I don’t recreating then I will edit, slightly alter and possibly expand on them to showcase how I’ve changed from when I originally wrote it to where I am now, along with giving me more writing outputs.
Now with that introduction done, I’d like to present my first piece. Now admitted this is a rather dark monologue that I wrote but I still enjoyed writing it and showing what I can accomplish. So here goes. My first portfolio piece is called Victimise.
Curtains open, the audience sees John Smith aged 27 on a therapists chair, sitting down, head in hands. He looks up.
(Sarcastically) Oh you’re here then, I’ll just start, this is supposedly my cure to alcoholism. “Hi,” I say (waves), “My name is John, and I am an addict.” They all repeat my name and welcome me. I watch as the next person starts only for her to interrupt, “Why are you here?”. She seems to want to know everything but she is always interrupted herself by the leader, “He’ll tell us when he’s ready.” They move on, she watches me like I’m her prey; slowly wanting to tear into my flesh with her claws. This is my third time here and it’s always the same, only I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. I always feel victimized telling them my tales, my sorrows … I watch the sun slowly disappear because when that dies, I leave and gain freedom once more. At last the sun dies. Time to leave. I walk out without being told. She follows me, then the rest. I get to my crappy car, sit in the front seat and watch as darkness surrounds me. I love the emptiness of darkness. The way it never looks the same twice. I like what I can do when I’m alone. I wait, then wind down the window and pull out a fag (smiles). I know what your thinking smoking, nasty habit but I don’t light up the fag, I just leave it in my mouth and let the feeling of my imagination take over. Then she pokes her head in, “hey my car broke down, can I have a lift?” she asks. I nod my head. She clambers into the car, ruining everything I worked hard to build in my imagination. I put the fag back into its case, the single one left. I turn the ignition and let the engine warm up. I pull out the car park and let her direct me. We stop outside her house, I feel like this won’t be the last time I’ll be here. I watch her slick body move into the doorway. She opens the door. Turning on the light she faces me. She smiles winking and before that door closes she blows a kiss. I wait a few minutes watching were she was, then leave. But that’s been and gone now (Smirks). It was one good night though. She’d given me her number; we were going to have a good time. I entered my flat to the phone ringing (Phone is heard ringing). It was her; I rushed to her house. She met me at the door. That’s when it happened. We embraced (mimics embrace). She walked me to the dark bedroom and led the way. I liked to add my own touch. I gave her a pearl necklace, which she put on gracefully as I pulled a few ropes out of my bag. She didn’t mind anything. Her hands were tied and her legs too (tightens air as if rope). “Why aren’t my clothes off?” she asked. I smiled such a happy smile to be doing it again. That’s when I brought out my special tool, so sharp and shiny (shows the audience the knife). I knelt over her body, she squirmed to get free. “Please…no!” she exclaimed. I stopped (freezes). My eyes looked her up and down, watching her body shake in fear, and I saw the necklace, my mother’s. I taped her mouth shut as she tried to jump for freedom. I stabbed her, 27 times, one for every year. I stabbed; gutting her until the white sheets had been dirtied. I watched her face frozen in pain. I looked up to see the morning appearing; the sunrise locked me up again. I closed the curtains, turned off the light.
I did them all.
Fade to black. There’s a small white door lit by a spotlight with a window near the top. John is seen alone.
It started when I was 10. My mum and dad had an argument. Then my dad told me he was going to do my mum. I hadn’t a clue what this was so I hid in the closet. I watched as he stabbed her. Then he did himself. I watched him die in a pool full of lies. I cried singing.
Humpty Dumpty is played in the background, he cradles himself. The music stops.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
All the kings’ horses,
And all the kings’ men,
Couldn’t put humpty together again.
He smirks as the curtains close.
Now for the backstory. I wrote this piece originally when I was in college for a timeframe this was approximately ten years ago. It was a marked assignment piece. As a class we were each assigned to write a monologue of 500-750 words which depicted a character who was entrapped by something either physically or mentally. We used various texts to influence us and I personally decided to take influence from Angela Carter’s Bloody Chamber. For those who don’t know, The Bloody Chamber is a set of short stories which are based on the original fairytales and tell twisted versions of the even darker originals. It is and will always remain one of my favourite little books that I have studied. So back to Victimise. I created an Everyman character who was entrapped by his own instability which was created due to his past. John Smith was named to allow the audience or in this case readers to feel like they could be John Smith. I then purposely mislead everyone into thinking he’s an recovering addict, which he is but that’s not the reason he’s entrapped. Eventually the story reveals that his instability has allowed him to severely misunderstand an instance in his past and due to the consequences of his actions (the other character’s death) he is never corrected. However, I didn’t want to show that he could keep getting away with his murderous actions thus it opens in a padded cell/therapists office. Ultimately this reveals a potential ending in which he is caught and he is punished. So that’s the backstory on my ideas and the concept.
With this particular portfolio entry, I want to expand on the backstory with the aftermath of my creation. So throughout writing the monologues, our teacher was constantly reminding us that the best products come from “getting into the heads of the characters” and to become the characters whilst writing. Now I’m hoping you hear what she was suggesting. Every time she told me this, I looked at her and kept asking if she was sure I should do that. She knew what my concept was, she had even read a couple of earlier drafts so she knew what the plot was and were it was going. However, she insisted that is what I should do. Now this is not a confession and I will state this now, I AM NOT A SERIAL KILLER NOR A MURDERER OF ANY FORM. But I let myself get into the head of the character whilst still remaining in touch with the real me. This is when we had to read one of our final drafts (in my case the final draft) in front of the class with some assistance from another member of the class. My friend and I teamed up. Now the aim was that the partner would be the character and the writer would say the stage directions. However, my friend was uncomfortable reading as the character so we got permission to switch it up. I read as the character. (Quick side note: I studied drama in college and consider myself an amateur actor so when I read as the character I acted it out to the best of my abilities). So we performed the piece. Then when we finished there was a silence and I looked around, everyone was open mouthed including the teacher and she had a very worried look on my face. After class, my teacher asked to have a word with me. She told me I didn’t need to make another draft and asked if I’m okay. She had a worried look on her face and was clearly concerned she had indirectly created something. I was fine. The aftermath continued with the fact that my teachers who in our college very rarely interacted with other departments unless necessary started to question my mental health and would be cautious around me. So long story short, this entry actually had my college teachers believe they had created a possible future serial killer, which I reiterate I am not.
To finish off this part, I want to suggest what I could do to update this. So I can easily expand on the monologue and make it more of a mini one man play, I have plans on what else would happen “I did them all” as John says. But I could also see myself reformatting it and changing it into a story so I’m going to have a think. If anyone who reads this knows me, maybe they would want to suggest what they would prefer to see.
For now though this is DeeJayKay signing off.