By Kellie Powell
Drew attends her estranged father's funeral. When pressured to speak, she resists - at first politely, then firmly, and finally, she erupts with frustration.
DREW:
You don't get it. I've been afraid of my father all my life. I spent every waking moment trying to keep him from exploding. Trying to do everything just right - and not just believing, but knowing... that one day he would kill me. That he'd kill us all.
My first memory... is the day my brother spilled a can of paint down the stairs. My parents were painting the house. Ricky thought he was helping, but it was too heavy for him, and... paint just went flying, everywhere. I held my breath. I don't know why I thought that would help.
My father put his fist through the wall. I screamed. Ricky and I started crying. And the whole time that he... the whole time, he kept yelling at us to stop crying. I couldn't. I thought he was going to kill us both, and my mother couldn't stop him. I was four years old. Ricky was two.
And I have been living in that hole in the wall, ever since.
I can't forgive him. I won't pretend. So go read "Footprints in the Sand" if it'll make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Today my father's going in the ground. Except I don't remember having a father. A father couldn't do that to his kids.
This monologue is from the ten-minute play Richard Fisher's Funeral by Kellie Powell. If you would like to read the entire play, you can purchase and instantly download an electronic copy of the script for $5.00.
This play is also available as part of the Heartland's Rejects Collection, six ten-minute plays for only $10.00.
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