Week 9:Activity 2: Monologue: Feeling trapped

write a 300 word scene in which a character feels trapped in his or her surroundings with no immediate prospect for escape. For example the setting might be, a boarding school, a package holiday, a wedding at a relative's house a hated job which is a financial necessity. Show the feelings through the description of the places, not by naming the feelings.

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I walked into the ballroom, lifting up my dress a bit, making my walk alot easier as it lessened the risk of me tripping over the intricately crafted long hem. The dress was beautiful, but the cloth felt like it was made out of burlap. It was itchy and stuffy, and I felt pretty sure that the dress was not made for someone to move around in it. Especially not for someone who needed to move fast enough to avoid making small talk with everyone, AND try desperately to search for a place to rest her tired feet. An aunt was in my way, her mouth already open, ready to let me in the latest gossip. I avoided eye contact, backtracked, and went along another path. I continued my quest of finding my designated chair , hoping to finally sit, and relieve my aching feet, and maybe have a bite to eat. Oh, why did mom force me to wear these 3 inch heels? I'm sure my dress would have looked just as lovely with my flats. Not that anyone can even see my shoes underneath all these cloth.

I finally found my seat after having to stop, at least a dozen times, to exchange niceties with people I do not even remember. I sat down with some difficulty as the dress was tight and it tighten even more, threatening to burst at the seam. I relented, sucked in my breath and sat. Funny, when you come to think of it, the dress is not made for someone to sit around in it too. I promptly squeezed out of the heels as nobody would notice my naked feet underneath the table.Ah, it felt like heaven for my feet. But now my lungs are starting to burn as I can't draw in any breath, afraid that the dress would rip. I sighed, disappointed at society's way of ruling how a woman should look. All primmed up, wearing tight corsets and high heels.

I shifted my attention to the ballroom. One wall was lined with tall, looming windows with views of the gardens which looked darker than usual and filled with shadows. The chandelier was beautiful, oh yes, imported from a top antique dealer in Paris why would it be anything less than beautiful? But, the crystals of the chandelier seemed to be arranged the sharp points down, as if to make sure that should anyone be unlucky enough to walk beneath it, AND to have it fall down on the person, the injuries from the crash would at prove to be fatal, or at least cause a few months of comatose. There were flowers neatly arranged on each of the tables as well as along the corridors. The flowers were all natural from the forest, a request from the bride, as much as I loath to agree that the flowers did look fetching, I was pretty sure they were crawling with insects. Urgh.

The bride was all atwitter wearing her custom made silk dress, complete with an elegant white cap. Ironic though, I do not think this bride should have been wearing white at all. As I heard the wedding was moved to an earlier date, as something else was late. I looked at the groom. He did not seem like he was a first choice of the bride as he resembled nothing like the bride's previous conquests. Looks like the groom was her last resort. I wonder if the groom knows what he is signing up for.

Ah, looks like it's time for the bride and groom to leave for their honeymoon. I stood up with the rest of the crowd, smiled, and clapped.

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I made a poem before I realised we were supposed to make an essay. I kinda liked it though, so here it is -


The bride all atwitter with her white silk dress, complete with a whitecap,
Me, sitting idly, trying not to wrinkle my dress of burlap,
thinking that the groom,since the bride is in her 30's,is most probably stopgap.

watching the bridesmaids, flocking around the bestman, trying to entrap.
watching the bride's mother with a cat in her lap,

siting and wishing there would occur some mishap,
maybe somebody would soon be victim to kidnap,

sitting and staring at the table trying to make a secret exit map,
realising everybody's looking like they are about to snap,

sitting and flipping my gloves repetitively against my kneecap,
hoping somebody would stop the classical music and put on some rap.

hoping everybody would soon stop their yap,
feeling like giving out a few slaps,
straining to control myself, as the best man,my friend, is a good chap.

hoping to get out of here asap,
but stopping to smile and clap.