JJ
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JJ asked in Arts & HumanitiesBooks & Authors · 1 decade ago

PLLEASSE HELP! If you have a sense of what god writing is, will you please read my monologue?

Project: Choose a character from a book, choose an event, and write a monologue decsribing their charcter, feelings, and actions.

Book Title: Chasing Yesterday, Book One: Awakening

Author: Robin Wasserman

Character: J.D.

Intro: A few weeks ago, a young girl was found in the middle of a mysterious explosion at an abandoned warehouse area, with no memory of her past and who she was. Police and ambulance services couldn’t identify who she was either, so she was called Jane Doe, which then was shortened to J.D. She was sent to a hospital to take care of her physical injuries, and afterwards she was sent to a juvenile service centre. Recently, a woman, claiming to be her mother, took her away from the centre to her home.

*Monologue starts* J.D: I don’t understand. I remember how things work, how to walk, how to talk, and all that. But I can’t remember my own name! The doctors say I’m approximately 13 years old. But I’m actually two weeks old. These past two weeks are all I remember of my life.

Everyone’s saying I’m really lucky. Yeah. Real lucky for surviving a huge explosion with just some bruises, a concussion, and no memory of your life. Retrograde amnesia, the doctors call it. Pretty fancy word for a black hole in your head that sucks all your memories out.

I’m tired of waiting for someone to fix me and figure out what’s wrong. The doctors at the hospital told me that I’ll slowly start remembering; naturally recovering the memories on my own. I really I want to become normal again. I want to get my name off the news channel and the newspapers. I don’t want people thinking “Oh, there goes the poor, lost, crazy girl,” wherever I go.

Now that Mrs. Collins—my mother—has found me, I’m hoping I’ll start remembering soon. She told that my name is Alexa Collins. Everything is so strange, so unfamiliar. Our house is a small, two storey building. All of the houses on this block are practically identical. It’s a typical, family friendly neighbourhood—a nice place to grow up. The house is incredibly neat and full of brightly coloured furniture and well designed decorations. The house is kept so clean it looks like no one lives here. How am I going to live here without messing the house up? I’ve already made the tiles in the front hall all muddy when I entered. Mrs. Collins—my mother—is very caring and kind hearted. She even gave me a necklace as a welcome home present. For dinner, mom is apparently making my “favourite”—baked ziti splattered in tomato sauce, and sweetened chocolate milk to drink. She honestly wants be to be comfortable and at home here. If only she knew how hard I’m trying…it’s hard enough getting my mind to think of her as my mother, and myself as Alexa. It’s even harder trying to remember my past; struggling with my own brain.

Alexa’s room is really girly. Everywhere you look, there’s pink, pink, and more pink. I can’t imagine being this girl in my past. I just don’t feel like I ever was Alexa Collins. I feel a little strange looking through the room; Alexa’s belongings don’t feel like mine. A shelf in the corner is packed with glossy, shallow story paperbacks with happy endings. The bulletin board above her desk is covered in photos, each one showing giggly girls posing cheerfully for the camera. And her diary— I hope it’ll bring back some memories and help me remember…but nothing. The entries are all the same: happy descriptions of shopping trips and parties, complaints about homework and family, problems with friends, and worries about if her outfits were keeping up with the season’s trends. Alexa’s life—my life—was so simple, so normal. Problems were so trivial, and solutions came quickly. But shouldn’t seeing all of this bring up some memories, something from my past? None of the events come remotely close to the visions and dreams I’ve been having. And how could Alexa end up in the middle of a chemical explosion kilometers away from her home?

Sometimes I hear this music in my head that no one else hears. I think I remember it from somewhere…when it plays, I’m no longer myself—I sort of become a third person watching from above. I see frightening things—raging fires, accelerated explosions and people getting killed. A cold voice speaks to me and orders me to do stuff. I feel like I’m burning and out of control, and then, in a flash, the music ends and the scary scene dissolves. The nightmare stops.

Mom says she’s wants me to go to a family friend tomorrow, named Dr. Styron. He’s a psychiatrist, and she says he’ll be able to help me recover the memories. But Dr. Fisher, my doctor from the hospital, said I wouldn’t need a checkup until next week, and that I would recover on my own. But my mom isn’t so sure, and she wants to do as much as she can to help me. I guess I just want to get better for her as much as I do for me. What choice do I have? Maybe Dr. Styron can really help me. My life has been taken away from me, and I’m determined to get it back.

is it good

3 Answers

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  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago
    Favorite Answer

    Hi, just dropping by to say hi and thanks for the helpful post on my question!

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  • 1 decade ago

    If the character is slowly going to start accepting her old life, make it more gradual. She can't just suddenly call her 'Mom' when she's been calling her Mrs Collins. Start those changes slowly.

    I've never read the book but it was quite good.

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  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    Umm... that sounds like the first pages of the book in your own words.

    (I think... it all sounds familiar)

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