Loveless Murder

A Stage Play by Jonathon Wood

A man is found accused of a murder he did not commit, but instead performed awhile back. Interrogated by two officers he tells his story of love, sin, and murder. (3-4 Minutes)

[Introduction]
You sit there accusing me of murder, and I understand. I do. You're simply doing your job, but have you any idea what it does to man to be accused of killing his own wife, damning his own life? It destroys him!
I remember the day I had left. A business meeting, I had told her. She believed me, as she always does. I arrived to New York, and made my way to the hotel room I would be staying at. I walked through the door to be met with sin. Sweet, glorious sin. There she stood, her name was Alexis. I let myself fall victim to her demonic remedy of false love, and joy.
Then my phone vibrated, it was my wife. What an inconvenience. I answered with joy, of course not towards the woman I had grown to ignore. It was a routine call, checking to make sure I had landed safely. She didn't seem to notice the distance in my voice. "I love you", she said with that angelic voice I had grown to hate. "You too", I said hanging up the phone. I couldn't even tell my wife I loved her. All I could say was "You too", and hang up. As if she didn't exist, as if she wasn't worth it, as if her life meant nothing to me. So I sinned that night, and slept with Alexis. Then made my way home the next morning.
I walked through the front door of my home, and said mockingly "Honey, I'm home". No reply. I didn't think anything of it. Perhaps she had gone to see one of her friends, or went to gather supplies for dinner. I made my up the stairs, only to hear the television blaring from our master bedroom. I let a grin spread across my face, and walked into the room. There she lay, still, lifeless, like an angel. I crawled into bed, and whispered "Morning beautiful", but she didn't reply. It was then that I had noticed the cold blood that covered my hand. The blood that soaked my body, and stained her once pure skin. I grabbed her, and held her close. I refused to let go, and cried out with anger.
I know it was wrong not to call your officers, but I couldn't. She was dead, and I knew they would only steal her away from me. So I just held her, and cried. It wasn't long until your officers bursted through the door, throwing me on the ground and reading me my rights. They stole her from me. Now I'm here, being interrogated by you bafoons. You accuse me of murdering my wife, my life, while the real killer runs out free. Officer I've committed no crime, except the crime of not loving my wife. I didn't murder her physically, but I might as well have mentally. I stopped loving her, I stopped being with her. I stopped doing all... So yes... I did murder her! I muttered her long before she died though. So throw me in prison, lock me up, but find the damn person that killed my wife. Do it now, quit wasting time and find him.

© 2013 Jonathon Wood

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Featured Review

JLD

The emotional impact of this monologue is huge. I feel like I am right there with him, feeling everything. And that moment when she is gone, and he can't have her anymore. The guilt and grief are all there. I only found some minor grammatical errors. "I arrived in New York" would be better than "to New York". "Then my phone vibrated, it was my wife." should be two seperate sentences. 'Bafoons' is spelled buffoons. I think you meant to say "murdered her long before" at the end, but you wrote "muttered her long before". Other than that, I really enjoyed this piece, especially the opening lines. Great job!