It’s been a while since my last post, over a year in fact. It’s been quite a time, one in which I put my university degree on hold, but now that I’ve restarted, it’s time to update my blog and get back into the flow of writing again. To that end, below is a monologue that I wrote for the drama department at Blackpool & The Fylde College. It was prat of a series of monologues for the Talking Deads production. Unfortunately due to to time constraints the project at the college was shelved with a view to commiting the performance to film sometime in the future. I also read it out to peers at The Blackpool Horror Society, and was well received by the audience. One of which said it was a perfect example of a true monologue.
The brief for the assignment was to produce a monologue that was to be no longer than ten minutes performance time. It also had to have a minimal set and as few props as possible. To that end I wrote Chloe, a slight twist on the serial killer trope which was to be performed under a spotlight, no set, and with only one prop – A knife.
I hope you enjoy the script.
Copyright (c) Simon Jay 2021.
The following is one act to be performed as a monologue.
The stage is in darkness and clear, except for a woman stood in solitary under a single overhead spotlight lit in blue. Her name is CHLOE and it is clear she is to be the sole focus of the audience.
She is dressed smartly (blouse, skirt, jacket) and in her hand is large carving knife, the kind used by Michael Myers from the Halloween movies. She is holding it lightly – she doesn’t know it’s there – almost as if it’s an extension of her arm. The knife is coated in blood. It is important that the knife be kept in hand and Chloe be unaware of it until the appropriate scripted moment.
Chloe is a talkative, bubbly person but she’s also a bit ditzy in a charming lovable way. She is usually a fast talker.
She is stood with her head down, her body relaxed, almost as if she fell asleep stood up.
She suddenly looks up to the audience, she seems sad but very much awake.
It’s funny but even now, I don’t feel anything. Oh, I don’t mean physically, no, that stopped earlier. I mean emotionally. I can’t remember if I ever did. You see, right at this moment there is a knife slashing across a throat.
She makes a slashing motion across her throat using the hand that hold the knife.
The movement of the knife is in sublime slow motion, except it isn’t, it just seems that way. Do you know what I mean?
Pause, as if expecting an answer.
Savour every moment.
The spotlight suddenly changes to white and Chloe becomes more active, bubbly, more alive. She wants to tell us her story.
This morning I woke up at seven a.m. I jumped in the shower and spent fifteen minutes scalding my skin under the hot water. Well, not really scalding my skin, that would hurt, but you know what I mean. Anyway I get out, dry myself with one of those large, expensive, fluffy towels – the bloody thing almost drowns me, but I love how it feels – and head to the kitchen. I grab a bowl from the cupboard then I spend a whole two minutes choosing what cereal I’m having. Can you imagine, two minutes, just for that, hah! Anyway, I choose Cheerios because it suited my mood.
Hang on, I’m giving you too much information aren’t I? Honestly I just can’t help myself sometimes. Sorry let’s speed things up a bit. I eat my cereal (mimics eating cereal), Get dressed (Mimics getting dressed) and I head to work.
I work in the city, which is a shithole by the way. I don’t know if you have ever been to London but if you haven’t, don’t. It’s dirty and miserable. The people there wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. In fact they wouldn’t even notice that you were on fire. I don’t live there. No, I live on the outskirts in a lovely little village. I just work in the city. Also, at the moment there is a serial killer on the loose, They’re calling her Slasher Sally on the news. She’s killed six women in the past three months. Fancy that, a female serial killer. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for equal rights…
Anyway, sorry, I’m off on a tangent again. So, I go into work, which is at one of those big law firms – I’m a legal secretary by the way – and I get in the elevator. I say ‘get in’ I really mean squeeze in. It was packed, crammed in like sardines we were. Anyway, at that moment I saw the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. I’d never seen her before, so I assumed she was either new or visiting. She was a little taller than me and waaaaaaay skinnier, she saw me looking at her and smiled. I blushed and turned away quickly. Before I did I noticed her long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, perfect cheek-bones, slender neck and magnificent pert breasts that sat perfectly underneath her gold blouse. I waited for the lift to get to my floor, not daring to look back, just in case she saw me. Finally the door opened and I frantically pushed my way through the other sardines to get out. I must have looked like a mad woman. Before I had the chance to glance back, the doors had closed and she was gone.
I didn’t see her again until the end of the day as I was leaving. She was waiting in the lobby. When I got close enough she asked if I’d like to go for a drink.
What? Who? Me? This plain Jane? I mean, my god, when a Jennifer Lawrence lookalike asks you out for a drink you don’t say no and before I could stop myself the words ‘fuck yeah’ had left my mouth. She didn’t seem to mind, in fact she laughed.
Anyway, she took me to the fanciest wine-bar in the city and then she suggested we go for a walk along the river. It was a beautiful warm evening and down by the water it was peaceful. As we walked she took my hand and when I didn’t object she gripped it more confidently. We walked on a little further until we entered under a bridge. I looked around, there was no-one, not a soul. This was the perfect place to do it. Secluded, quiet and above all, dark.
The mood changes and she becomes agitated.
It was quick, the knife appeared and quickly slashed across a throat (mimics the knife slashing across her throat) Things got confused, I didn’t know what was happening. I looked her in the eyes and she looked shocked, but that gave way to a broad smile. (She looks at the hand holding the knife.) The knife, the knife, there’s something about the knife.
She suddenly becomes aware of the knife in her hand and the spotlight turns red.
Oh my god, it’s me. I’ve slashed her throat, but there’s no blood, she just smiles at me. I look down and see my own shirt changing from white to a deep scarlet. I reach up to my neck and feel the warm liquid gushing from a slit where my throat used to be. It’s funny but there isn’t any pain. I fall to my knees, then to my side. I can’t move. I’m numb. I couldn’t talk, when I tried I just made this sickly gurgling noise. It was at that moment I realised I wasn’t getting out of this alive.
As I lay there, a pool of my own blood creating a macabre halo around my head, her face appeared in front of me, she was smiling, the moonlight glinting off the bloody knife. She opened her mouth to speak, ‘My name is Sally, it was nice to met you.’
That was the last thing I remembered before it went dark.
Spotlight fades to black