'Creative Writing Monologue – How did I end up like this?\r'

'How did I end up wish well this? Slashed up and leftfield to die in a part of Bristol that Tourist Information is in denial as to its existence. Why would I dismilitary personneltle consider agreeing to such ludicrous terms? How more times has my mother said peer slight of those upset Irish sayings that no- adept says or told you: â€Å"Dont talk to stranger,” or â€Å"Dont let your father be your role model or youll end up dead just manage him.” Well I bet my Mum n constantly envisaged me sharing my fathers grave to begin with her. Its looking more bloody likely with e genuinely minute that goes by.\r\nâ€Å" damp”\r\nIm eighteen! I should be with friends on the town, drinkable and trying cigarettes, not slowly bleeding to death. In its time this is the kind of road that would be exuberant of tourists who give the bouncet afford to go abroad and requisite a cheap seaside holiday; well Bristol seems to postulate fallen to bits, now its nothing mor e than a grimy alleyway. Im not even sure if I brought this situation upon myself; just another one of those sinless victims of inner city younker ingroups. I fuel already picture my mother on GMTV, enquire pointless question which were unlikely to be answered, yet when they are they draw an inevitable dead-end.\r\nâ€Å"Pause, Splutters”\r\nWhen youre approached by xii or so older boys you keep your degree down, make no eye contact and passing play on by. Except on this occasion they unopen in on me. I felt pin down like a helpless animal, my legs disacknowledged my brain which was rede them to run. They said they cherished me to perform some tell of task. As the group distri barelyed my duty I remained unplumbed and still, although my brain had commenced a battle I didnt argue. simply somehow, with turn out being told, I knew there was extensive peril with the task in hand. They spat threats at me though I had not even considered disobeying my assignment for one atomic number 42.\r\nâ€Å"Pause, Chokes”\r\nI gathered I was to be a courier and deliver bullys and not under whatever circumstances was I to be prevented from completing my task, no matter of what crossed my path: be it another gang or the police. I asked no questions as I expected to hear no answers (or if there were either †plainly deceitful ones). They all implied that the consequence for getting caught would most likely be death. At that I began to panic, taking deeper and deeper breathes, having this premonition of being brutally killed. I should have known at that very moment that this situation that Im in now was unavoidable.\r\nâ€Å"Pause, Chokes again”\r\nI just wish life was like one of those lame TV shows where the hero is on the threshold of death tho summons up the chroma to save him as well as the good looking girl that invariably accompanies them. I want just a few more minutes with my mother to make up for all that I have done. W hen I was young, my father gave me an option; he said â€Å"Wayne, are you going to be a Mummys boy or a Dads boy?” From that very moment I made a ending that would be my burden for the rest of my life. I was eer a Dads boy and followed a similar youth to that of my older brother Ashley; I would look up to Ashley †he was who I wanted to be. Dad was eternally showing off his first born, until he locomoteed out at the age of 15 that is.\r\nâ€Å"Pause, Single stock split”\r\nShortly after his departure my popping commit suicide. My life went downhill and every day seem to be a new low. I blessed my momma for my fathers death and taunted and accused her of pushing in front he jumped. Although it was not true it gave me great enjoyment hearing my mothers muffled tear and sobs from her room. My mother continuously loved and cared for me and was very compassionate towards me, both before and after my fathers death which is more than I can say for my father. My dad would often abuse me and as I cried he would tell me to man up and do him proud and it was my mother only who questioned the jumbo bruises scattered all over my body. Yet my mum was always there to feed me and put a roof over my head. But my eyes were only for my father so my world seemed to crumble as he made his long ominous adequate to the pits of hell.\r\nâ€Å"Unsteady Raspy Breathing ”\r\nSo as these boys told me my task in hand, ringing in my ears was the heavy of my Dad saying, â€Å"so Wayne are you going to be a Mummys boy or a Daddys boy. â€Å"So not only did I accept that I had no choice, I agreed, I saw it as a gifted opportunity to do my darling Dad proud and make up for the circumstance I could never live up to Ashley. I had my goal in mind and it never occurred to me the order of the danger and I never assumed I would get caught. So I was dismayed to walk into a group of men the gleam in their eyes told me they knew everything.\r\nâ€Å"Pauseâ €\r\nThey were smug, the kind of people when dad was alive he was obsessed with surrounding himself with. Those strong smiles and worn bashed up faces told me they had fought many wars before. But what shock me the most was the lack of fear and concern in their eyes. They did what they this not because they were forced to like myself, but because they embed it them adrenaline and they enjoyed it! As they redrew there knives from their pockets and slashed me I didnt resist or cry; I couldnt protest hearing my dads voice again, â€Å"Man up Wayne, man up.” I had had enough.\r\nâ€Å"Pause, Voice fades as he is demise”\r\nBut as this happened I couldnt help but smile to myself. I had seen who was stabbing me, I smiled at him and he smirked back, mocking me. Ashley, who I had looked up to as a child, had come back; maybe not the way I had hoped, but none the less for the past eight years since he left all I have ever wanted was for him to return. I dont hate him fo r doing it; he was living my fathers ideate and had done him proud more than I had ever done.\r\nâ€Å"Pause”\r\nIf I shift my weight I could probably see the name of this god forsaken alley. â€Å" ending road,” it probably refers to the nearly airport but I think it fits. The end of my journey, a short journey, but never the less an eventful one. â€Å"Terminal Lane”. Chuckles\r\nâ€Å"Closes Eyes, Dies”.\r\n'