By Kellie Powell
Hold Still is a ten-minute horror play about a painter who hires artist's models who remind him of his sister, who disappeared in childhood. It is unclear whether he killed his sister, or if the trauma of her disappearance has led him to kill an unknown number of paid proxies...
No, that wasn't real. That was - I was consumed by grief, after we lost you. It was too disturbing for such a fragile mind. I saw things - but it was merely my mind's attempt to explain your disappearance. I needed someone to blame and - for a time I even believed that I had killed you - can you imagine? A five-year-old child, capable of such a brutal - it was so vivid - and yet - of course it was only a twisted imagination...
Do you remember when we would have contests to see who could catch the most butterflies? You always won - you were older, quicker, more graceful, but the day you disappeared, I was winning. And I caught the most beautiful butterfly that I had ever seen - I showed it to you, and you took it from me, so gently - and then, you looked at me and you said, "I always win." And you balled your hand into a fist and crushed it to death. That's the last time - that's the last thing I remember before you disappeared. I used to wonder if you ever felt guilty. For destroying something so beautiful.
This monologue is from the ten-minute play Hold Still by Kellie Powell, published by These Aren't My Shoes Productions. If you would like to read the entire play, you can purchase an electronic copy (PDF) of the script for $5.00.
This monologue is brought to you by The Monologue Database and These Aren't My Shoes Productions.