Wattpad Workshop Series

Hello =] This is my first monologue I've done in my life. Erm, I only finish until high school and I've never been taught how to write a monologue before...so I hope I get this right =]

Forgiveness. A foreign word in my life. A vocabulary that doesn't exist in my dictionary. An action that can save life. However, it isn't something that I will understand. How can you forgive someone for something he had done, something that destroyed your life and changed you into someone you don't even recognise? How can you forgive, be the better person, and continue living in a better prospect when that someone still has power over you? How to let yourself free of this power when you don't even know how to forgive?

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Week 12~Part 1:

“You’re a witness of this car accident, sir, is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you mind giving a statement about what you saw, please?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Well see, this woman, she was driving pretty fast, right? And I’m just walking along the side of the street, watching her. She’s pretty hot, you know? Well, all of a sudden, there’s this screeching sound and the car turns and SLAMS into the other car. It was like hockey or something, and this other car was the puck. Then, the cars start spinning and spinning, they’re totally out of control, and there’s smoke and everything. I was like ‘They’re going to explode!’ and everybody just started running around. It was crazy, man. I’ve never seen anything so crazy in my life. Like, never.”

“Right… Thanks sir.”

“Hey, no problem.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Ma’am, you were a witness to this car accident, correct?”

“Oh yes.”

“We’re asking you to please give a statement about what you saw, if you don’t mind.”

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I'm just exploring. Where are the writing prompts? This looks interesting!

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The workshop and prompt is posted on the Insider every Monday. Here's the link to this week's: http://blog.wattpad.com/post/29825511068/wattpad-workshop-series-week-13 I look forward to seeing your writing! @MommyMagic

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It was a beautiful day. The bright sun seemed to elude everyone that things were safe, and nothing could harm anyone. It only caused the devastation to be amplified.

Mindy was sipping her latte waiting for Holly when it happened it was right in front of her. It was so fast that she couldn't even process what was happening. The chirping of birds was replaced with the wailing of sirens and the acidic smoke burned her nose.

"Oh crap, crap, crap, crap," Mindy said as she fumbled blindly for her phone, her eyes never leaving the scene. She dallied 911 as fast as she could with shaky fingers.

Amiss the smoke exited two figures. Both very distressed. Both very angry. Only one caught her eye though. He was tall and broad, the smoke billowed around him like a dark cape. His beautiful features pulled into a scowl as he surveyed the damage.

"Have you lost your freaking mind?" he yelled The cries of a siren drowned out the reply from the other man who was straightening his suit. The cop car pulled up right in front of Mindy and two uniformed me strode out. A beacon of calm in the midst of chaos. One walked up to Mindy and began to question her.

"Ma'am you witnessed this accident? Is that correct?" he said, cool indifference covering his voice.

Mindy wanted to slap him.

'Well duh! I'm the one who called 911. I didn't just happen to stroll up and stop walking right in front of a wreck," Mindy took a deep breath and tried to remember that she was talking to an officer and not an idiot, though the line of distinction was very fade. "Um, this guy was going like, I don't know, seventy? And the red car pulled a fast one around the corner and they just smashed together, they might as well've tried to jam their foot into a shoe three sizes to small. The the driver of the Cadillac jumped out and started losing it. That's all I saw,"

"Thank you ma'am," he said when he was sure she was finished. Mindy had a suspicion that he didn't like her.

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Here is my week 4, finding a hidden door paragraph:A sigh escapes my lips, and I feel the dusty floor shake under me as the door slams behind me with the force of my shove. With not a glance back, I sink into a sitting position in the middle of the floor, and let my head rest on my knees. Upstairs I can hear the angry calls of my parents. Like always they want me to talk about it, to work it out with them, but again I push them away, wanting the darkness of the basement instead. The basement is always my refuge, the comforter and silent listener to my problems that no one else seems to understand. Slowly, after sitting there for longer than I knew, I began to drift asleep, just to be jerked awake by the movement of uneven footsteps racing around me. I raised my head quickly, something was wrong, none of my family ever cared to look here, and the footsteps certainly didn't belong to them. In the very corner of my vision, I caught a flash of movement. Turning ever so slowly I faced the spot. Just then, silver eyes flickered open and stared into mine, I slowly advanced toward them but they turned and disappeared, and I hurried to follow. Behind a wall of forgotten boxes, a small space opened up, and the track looked well worn with tiny prints left in the dust. In front of me, the prints ended, and I saw something that made my eyes widen with disbelief. A small door, engraved with beautiful symbols was set into the wall, and slowly began to swing open before me, as if by magic. I realized at once that I must still be asleep, troubled with dreams caused from worldly problems. I pinched myself hard, creating a pink welt from my long nails. As I peered through the door, another almost familiar world opened up to me, and I realized I couldn't be dreaming. Instead, my dreams were becoming a reality.

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Week 12-Part 2 (sorry for the gap between them!)

“Of course, yes! Not at all. I was driving the speed limit, which is what, seventy? Seventy-five? Well, I was being very careful when I noticed this woman in a red car coming up closely behind me. I know for sure she had to be going at least ninety. She must have gotten impatient with me, because she sped right by. In fact, she gave me the finger, too. Well, it wasn’t too long after that before she seemed to lose control of her vehicle, and she hit another car that was driving through the intersection. Both vehicles start spinning out of control, and some stranger on the sidewalk starts flapping his arms around about something, clearly causing a public disturbance, because people started running around. I parked my own car safely on the side of the road and got out to help and dial 911.”

“Well, you did a good thing, ma’am. Thanks very much.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure! It really was.”

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Week 11: Elevator dialogue

"Well, Mrs McIntyre, guess we're gonna be be stuck here a while. Reckon they'll be callin' out the elevator menders."

"Thank you, Jenkins, we'd better keep calm then. And you are?"

"Umm, I'm Todd Davies, I live on floor 15, you probably haven't noticed me..."

"No, I don't think I have. Well, getting stuck is a grand way to get to know your neighbours. I just hope the lift engineers won't keep us too long. Poor Pooky is in the penthouse and he will need his afternoon walkies soon."

"Last time I was in a lift what got stuck, we was there for near enough two hours."

"Two hours, Jenkins! Surely not!"

"Err, Mrs McIntyre, I, umm, wanted to say I'm a great admirer of your business."

"Oh, how perfectly lovely. It was left to me by my late husband. Of course, poor Roly ran it into the ground, but I've got some good people now."

"Err, yes. Do you think you might have an opening for an accountant?"

"Send your CV to the office, they'll look at it."

"I'll be blowed, we're stuck at floor flippin' thirteen! Scarce credit it!"

"Oh, umm, gosh, probably shouldn't admit this, but I'm scared of the number thirteen."

"Hmm, triskaidekaphobia, my great uncle Hugo suffered from it too. Dreadful time of it he had. Unable to play bridge as there are thirteen cards in a suit. Nonsense if you ask me."

"I'd an uncle what was scared of heights. Almos' like he could see the future, it was. He went an fell down a lift shaft an killed himself."

"Now, don't tease the poor man, Jenkins. I'm sure we won't be long. Ah, what did I tell you? We're off! Fancy a cocktail, Mr Davies? Perhaps you could walk Pooky for me?"

"Umm..."

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Here's my week 5, mysterious letter story: The day had been long, the night before short, and the only thing I needed at the moment was sleep. The bags under my eyes were a dark purple, a sure sign I was more than tired. After a few preparations for bed, I walked into my room, so glad to see the comforting blanket spread over the top of my bed. Just then, when I least expected it, a loud knock came at the door and got on the last of my already frazzled nerves. With a hideous scowl on my face I flung open the front door, and looked around to see who was there. Instead of a person standing there waiting for me, a neat letter lay on my welcome mat. Glancing around to see who could have possibly left it, I snatched it up, and stomped inside, a bit curious as to what is was. On the back my name was printed in curly but legible writing, with no address, mine or the return address. I cautiously opened the letter, and pulled out the piece of paper crisply folded inside. At first, I looked at it with complete confusion; all it was, was a perfectly white page, with not a speck of writing. As I studied it, my anger grew. I was almost sure that it had been a trick, but I was wrong, soon the page lit up as if it was an impossibly thin screen. An old weathered face flicked onto the paper and I gasped in surprise. A strange look came across the man's face, and he started to speak, “Agent Louise?” My name was Louise, but he had it wrong. I stared back at him in horror, and I could see he realized his mistake. “I'm sorry you had to go like this,” was the last thing I heard, when the screen flashed impossibly bright, then let me sink into the darkest dark. After that horrible day, I was never seen again. Though it was rumored I moved, or went insane, I'm not there to tell them the truth. Now, I don't even know who I am, or who I was.

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@MommyMagic Oh! Hello! I recognize you. I remember reading something of yours once, but I can't remember why I didn't finish . . .

Well, welcome to the Workshop :D

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Hello @Silently . Very nice to meet you. No worries on not finishing whatever you stumbled into. I won't profess to be the next Tolkien. ;) I just write for my own entertainment . . . especially of late.

Rather hoping these exercises will get the engine revving for a story that's stalled on me. I've decided that I need to do a little character development. *Crossed fingers* Here's hoping!

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Week 13- Part 1

"Ma'am, you were present while this accident took place, correct?"

Christine looked at the officer blankly. She didn't register if she gave him a nod or a twitch. What she wanted to do was curl up into a ball.

"Ma'am. Ma'am. Are you okay? Would you mind telling me what exactly happened?" The officer asked slowly, treading soft waters with this woman.

Then Christine snapped. "Look, officer...." her eyes flicked to his badge, "Officer Jones. I was walking on the sidewalk when i-it happened. All right? There....there was a black Escalade, and I thought it looked like a nice ride. The guy in it winked at me. The nerve of the guy! He winked! And I shot him a quick glare, just a quick one. A-and then he turned at the wrong time, slamming into another car. They tumbled together and skidded across the road, till they couldn't anymore. And damn it. I'm so sorry. So sorry. Oh God. This was all my fault. Please, Jones. I-I mean Officer Jones, don't arrest me. I'm so sorry. Why'd he have to wink? Why?"

The Officer blinked, then he scrambled to write all of this down. "Umm, Miss? It's okay, the driver is recovering in a coma. Haha, now we want him to wink. Errr..."

Christine wasn't laughing.

Officer Jones timidly scratched the back of his neck. "Forget I said anything, Ma'am and uh, thank you for your time."

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WEEK 13. Part 2

___________________________________________________________

"So I take it you were here during this accident, Ma'am. Would you mind telling me what you saw, exactly?" Officer Jones asked.

Rochelle straightened her glasses. "What I saw exactly?" she repeated.

Officer Jones nodded slowly. "Yes, what you saw exactly."

Rochelle pointed to a spot that was void of any debris. "The black Escalade had stopped there, making a parallel line with that line. Constable? Are you looking where I'm looking? Then at that point, do you see that point? He made a sharp ninety degree turn, constable. Completely irrational if you ask me. If he had been paying attention to the road, instead of that short skirted bimbo then maybe, just maybe, constable, the man would have missed that poor elderly woman in her car and they wouldn't have flipped over, rolling like a pig in mud. I'm disappointed with this generation, constable. Hopefully that elderly woman made it. Did she, constable?"

Officer Jones tried taking in all of this information without stopping so he wouldn't forget. He flushed when Rochelle gave him a stern, pointed look. "Oh, uh. Err... repeat the question?"

Rochelle spoke slowly, deliberately. "Did grandma see the light? Did the nanny survive? Is she alive? Come on constable, stay with me here."

Officer Jones warily sighed. He didn't get paid enough for this job. "That is information that I am not of liberty to discuss. Only members of the deceased may know that critical information."

Rochelle straightened her glasses once again. "So she's dead? Hmm..that's unfortunate. Anyway, I best be going. Farewell, constable. I hope you find everything fitting in your investigation."

Officer Jones blinked. Did he just reveal the information? That woman was so strange.

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This is my week 13: “It was horrific,” I began hesitantly. “I’ve never seen such a spectacular car accident. I wasn’t paying particular attention to the road, so I suppose I’m lucky to have got out the way in time. I dread to think what it would be like to be trapped under that lump of plastic and metal when it collided with the wall…” I sensed myself slipping off topic. “As for the cause, I couldn’t say. I think the tire just wore through, though I couldn’t say for sure. I heard the explosion, and suddenly the car was spinning towards me. That’s all I could say.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Your help is much appreciated,” the policeman waved me on, then summoned the next witness. My stomach filled with dread when I saw Ashley’s young face, pale, terrified and even guilty looking. I watched her carefully. “Could you please explain to me what you saw tonight?” the policeman asked.

A small whimper escaped Ashley’s mouth. “I… didn’t see much. I mean, I heard something, but…” she paused, attempting to gather her thoughts. “A gunshot. I’m sure. Then the car, it was going…” she stopped again, thinking, “away from me. Yeah, away from me. And passengers, they called out for help, but there was nothing I could do. It went straight into the wall by the school there, like you can see…” she smiled anxiously.

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Week 13 – slightly modified :

Blood and snow. Merry Yuletide indeed.

Constable Denet trudged along the snow covered lane, his lantern faintly illuminated the way to the Unicorn’s Horn Tavern as the twilight grew. He pushed through the crowd to bend down and examine the body. “Who found this one?”

One of the militiamen spoke up, “We got two witnesses – the proprietor and a bouncer.”

Denet sighed – no marks on the body. No obvious cause of death. “Where’s Malcom?”

“Inside.”

Denet entered the tavern and plodded to the bar. “Malcolm.”

“Eh? Oy, Constable. Glad t’see you.”

“Let’s talk.”

“Eh? Oh, aye. We kin use the back room.”

Denet sat across the table from Malcolm. “So, you saw the whole thing?”

“Not exactly, nae. I was tendin customers an I looked up – thought I saw a flash a light or something. Probably wouldn’t’a seen anything otherwise. Anyways, I was lined up with the doorway an I saw the backend of a rider gallop past. Chumley was at the door an rushed outside, so I followed. Twas too much noise for me t’hear anything outside. When I got there Chumley was leanin over Old Jonesey – he was sprawled out in the middle of the lane an it was all quiet. Not a mark in the snow cept where Jonesey was. .. leastwise I dinna see anything in the light spillin out the doorway.”

Thank you Malcolm. Send Chumley in, would you?”

“Ya wanted ta see me ser?” Chumley stooped as he entered the room, his bulk filling the doorway.

“Yes. Please sit and tell me what happened tonight.”

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part 2 ==

“Well, we wuz pretty full up ‘n all. I wuz cover’n the door so’s I had me back t’it. The old man tottered past me say’n g’night n’all ‘n then I hears the wagon barrel’n down the street ‘n then the old man cried out, so’s I run out t’see whut the ruckuss wuz about. Didn’t see noth’n cept the old man ly’n in the street. I tried t’see if he wuz still alive when Malcolm done come out.”

== so, is Chumley readable?? or confusing? [340 words]

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@cybersavant I found the entire scene readable. Chumley's dialect was no more comfounding than Twain's renditions of a southern dialect.

If I were to ask anything, I would ask that you show your characters interacting a bit with their environment. You've given us a snowy scene outdoors, nicely depicted. You tell us of a pub and a back room, but their descriptions are blank in my mind's eye. Similiarly, I don't know how Chumley twitches, shrugs, clears his throat, peers sternly in the eye, kicks back or in any other way, moves.

Anywho, know that you weren't really asking my opinion, but there it is, all the same. The dialogue is colorful. I supppose that was the point of the assignment.

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@MommyMagic thanks for your reply - it's helpful. i know Malcolm, but not Chumley so much yet; plus i already went over the word limit

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hahahahaha! @cybersavant Yeah, word limits bite!! I haven't tried my hand at this yet. I imagine that my attempts will be . . . lacking. :) Oh well. No effort, no improvement!

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Week 13: Accident Monolgues

"What's my name, Officer? Dorothy Matthews, Dotty for short. I'm a waitress. I live above the laundromat on High Street. Yeah, I saw the whole thing. Was waiting at those traffic lights. The biker, what's his name, Larry? Larry was overtaking the bus in the layby when it pulled out and whacked him. Don't know how the driver missed seeing Larry, must have been in his blind spot. Yeah, the bus had its indicators on. Well, Larry was off and bleeding and everything. Me and that man, Rod, pulled the bike off Larry and we carried him onto the pavement. Sat with Larry's head on my lap until the ambulance came. Oh, gross! My uniform's covered in blood! What's my boss gonna say? I've only got this outfit. No, Larry wasn't unconscious, he was shouting about how his bike was messed up, so I'm sure. You got a girlfriend, Officer?"

"Oi, Cop, my name's Rod Croombe. It's my mate that got knocked off his freakin' Harley. Me and Larry were just cruising down to the coast for some R&R, and this is far as we got before the bus pulled out and walloped Larry. Bus driving school obviously didn't teach the stupid bastard to check his mirror before pulling out. Nah, the bus weren't bloody indicating. After the bus sideswiped him, I pulled up my hog and dragged Larry out of the road with some help from that little lady and someone musta dialled a meat wagon. Ain't going nowhere now, 'cept chasin' the damned ambulance to A&E. Larry's going to go ape when he sees the way his hog's bin trashed. Are you going to arrest the driver? I bet you're takin' his side, aren't you? Filthy cops, can't trust 'em far as you can chuck 'em."

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Week 13.

This is before Matthew comes to know about his, this date being set up by Owen.

Part 1:

My name is Matthew Jones. Buddy, I swear that I didn’t see anything except the crowd gathered around there. Yes, I went to see what it was, but saw nothing, except heard some people, “Go for it Dan.” It’s none of your business to know what I was here for. Yes, I was there after the crowd dispersed. Yes, I saw the two guys. They were bruised, and their clothes were covered with blood stains. No, they didn’t see me. I was very far. The crowd and those two guys ran away as soon as the police sirens were heard. Why should I run? I haven’t done anything wrong. No, I’m not coming to the police station. I have my rights. I said no. I’ll sue you, you whatever if you continue to harass me to go to the police station.

Part2:

Anne Taylor. Yes, I saw a crowd gathered there, watching those two fight. No, I didn’t go near. I was afraid. I was waiting here for one of my friend. His name is Matt. Yes, Matthew. What do you mean you have met him? It is going to be a date, but I haven’t met him yet. He’s on the other side? Can I go now? What? You want me to come to the police station? No, sorry sir, but I cannot. Don’t you get it? I don’t want to miss my date. Yes, you can have my cell number. I’ll come later to the police station, if it is necessary. No, I don’t remember their faces. Yes, I’ll see if I can bring Matt to the police station too. He told no? Then I am sorry. I won’t be able to bring him. No sir, it was my duty.

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Week #1 (Sorry to be so far behind!!)

Writing prompt: Imagine that your character’s imagination is affected by something that’s happened to that itty-bitty bit of brain we’ve been talking about. How does your character think now? How is their imagination affected? How does it operate? What does it dream? What does it invent?

Character: Travis

They say that something is wrong with me. With me. How can something e wrong with me? Can’t they see the way the lights flicker on-off-on-off, strobing all day, so bright, I can see it behind my lids? Can’t they hear that high pitch hum? Electric insects, buzzing and pacing in my ears.

They see nothing. They hear nothing. This room, so small that I’d only fit twice if I lay foot-to-head, is a cube. Twice as tall as wide, a rectangular prism. They say this white room is empty. There is nothing to see. Nothing to be upset about. But they are blind. And deaf.

I rock in time to the monotonous song. Eyes squeezed shut, I rock. Open the hands, close the hands- fast and faster- like the strobe over me. Something inside my chest coils tighter, strangling my lungs. I pant. I rock. Back and forth, I move when there is nowhere to go. The flashing pinches my eyes. The walls warp and constrict. The scream that escapes my throat darkens the electric insects, but just for a moment. I can’t scream long enough, loud enough, to silence them.

Nothing will ever silence them.

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“Hello Mr. and Mrs. Eaton. I am glad you could join us.” The police officer says with a smile. “it’s not like we had a choice, when your neighbors house blows up in little pieces you kinda have to call the police” Mrs. Eaton spits the words out. “Can you explain to us what you saw exactly?” Mr. Eaton starts “Our neighbors the Jefferies were always mysterious and always kept to them selves. But last night when we heard a strong bang coming form their house, we got worried and I decided to go and check on them. Therefore I went there and rang on the bell, when Mr. Jefferies answered the door he looked hazed like he just witnessed a murder. I asked him if everything is alright, he nodded and closed the door quickly like he was trying to hide something” “What about you Mrs. Eaton? Have you seen anything?” “Yeah, when Dave walked over there to check on them, I told him not to, it’s not like they would do it for us, but what can I say my Dave is a sweet heart. He would do good deeds just for the hell of it. Anyway, I was watching him form the second story window in our bedroom. When he rang the bell, all the lights in the house suddenly went off and two masked men ran out of the back door of the Jefferies house, they drove away in a big black jeep. When Dave got back, we were both looking out side of the window and I was telling him about what I just saw, when suddenly the Jefferies house blew up in pieces. It was such a rush I couldn’t believe it” “Have either of you seen anything else, or catch the license plate of this car?” the officer asks annoyed but Mrs. Eaton’s amusement toward the whole situation. “No, I didn’t even think to look at it. Sorry” Mrs. Eaton replies with the same ignorant smirk of disdain. “I haven’t seen anything else sorry officer” Mr. Eaton politely replies back.

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Great work with the first voice - breathy and fast-paced all the way through, clear and easy to hear. Very nicely done. I like how we catch glimpses of the story within the words used, yet it doesn't feel like you're forcing the story in there. I look forward to the second one. Good work! @Lopsided

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@alissende You've brilliantly captured how self absorbed most people are when they speak! Most people are simply dying to talk about themselves and you've artfully got this down with both of these distinct voices. Neither of them is very worried about the boy who fell because they're so caught up in their own lives and opinions - it's a cynical view, but one that any observer of other people can't help but come to. You've done a really good job of managing to subtly comment on this while doing this exercise. Nothing nit picky today - just positive feedback. Very good work.

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