Monologue of Spider

Eeeeeeeeeew, yuk, I dont want to sit following(a) to HIM, Miss, thats so unfairI went through so many com ments like that solely told(prenominal) day. Everyone pattern that if they were put next to me they would catch my give a directioncast disease.Ive never had a proper friend. You k instantaneously, one who would give you their last Rolo, or spend hours trying to excuse the homework to you, even if you didnt get it by the end.All the years through infant give lessons, thence primary school and then secondary school were hell. My school grades were always bad. The teachers would say that I was lazy and couldnt be b differented to do the work, when truly that couldnt have been more(prenominal) wrong. I tried so hard, I really did, that my mind just couldnt c oncentrate. The words got muddled up on the page and letters switched around. All of this made it pr runically impossible for me to read and write. save I was thought of as idle and sluggish, because my speaking was almost immaculate.(Spider walking up a path)My bad grades were just an early(a) reason to spark take out an argument between my parents. They used to love each other. It was fine when I was very pure, I had no worries in the world and a loving mystify and father. whence, when I was a little older, six or seven, maybe, my father had an affair. The affair only lasted a little while and my mum agreed to take my dada back, but they were never the same again. Dad would come back from the pub very late, maybe even very, very early in the morning, stinking of beer and fags. accordingly mum would start an argument with him.I used to hide in my room whilst this was going on. I would crouch under my bed-sheets, and hum to myself, trying to thwart out the shouting and screaming going on below me.I left school as soon as I could after my GCSEs. I didnt get any good marks in them either. My life was over. Would anyone actually notice if I just curled up and died?I had no qualifications an d no college or sixth form to go to. Not that I would go anyway. I had put up with bullying all my life, college would be just the same, dreadful comments, no friends, not being able to get to sleep, dreading what the next day held.The next few years of my life wasted away to nothing. I had no job, and not having any qualifications meant I wasnt going to get one either. I just stayed at home, with mum nagging at me every day, telling me what a failure I was. I tried not to pay any attention. I think it made her feel better to take out her petulance on someone. I didnt take anything she said personally.Then, one morning, as I stared into the mirror, I stepped back and besidesk a look at my life. Was this really what I valued? No job. No friends. No life. If I did die, I think less than 20 people would turn up to my funeral. That thought really scared me. So, I decided I was going to do something with my life. Anything, just so I could say that I had done something and everything hadnt been a complete waste. I made the biggest finis of my life. I sold my pride and joy, my beautiful, red Harley Davidson. It was inclined to me as a gift by my granddad, just before he passed away. Granddad never thought I was a failure. He viewd in me, always encouraging me. I was devastated when he died. You have to move on though and thats what I am doing now.I almost cried as I parted with it. I managed to get quite a good price for it though. That day I left my home for good. I left mother a note on the kitchen table, which simply saidMother, I am going away to make something of my life. Maybe I give come back to visit some day . . . Love you always, Gregory.I left home, armed with the 2000 I got for the bike and with my life in a grimy hiking bag.* * *Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of British Airways, I would like to wish you a pleasant flight. If at any time you require assistance, please excite the red button above your head and a flight part will be with you soon to help. Have a nice flightI sat on the plane and stared out of the misty window. This was finally it. I had left all my problems in Bristol. Time to start a new(a) life. I hadnt thought nearly where I was going to go, I had just picked up a cheap, last minute ticket to Africa. I didnt know much about Africa, well, nothing really. Id watched a few documentaries back at home, but I hardly knew anything about it as a country.Five hours later I arrived in Morocco.(Four months later, Spider is now sat in a tree)I trudged through the wet, cold rainforest miserably for days on end. I lived on the sustenance for thought I could find, which was hardly anything.From the lack of food and what it was, I was experiencing excruciating hunger pains and I had a terrible bout of food poisoning. All this meant I was constantly in agonising pain. The only thing that kept me going, was the thought of how much worse it had been in Bristol. You see, mental pain hurts so much more th an physical. Tablets can not obliterate pain inside and somehow the physical pain felt slightly comforting. I guess it was the same sort of adrenaline you would get if you cut yourself.After struggling my way through the rainforest for a few weeks, I came across a town of natives.First of all I saw a group of little straw huts, with a fire blazing in between them. Around this fire, coloured African men with war paint on were doing an astounding dance. Whilst they danced they chanted an indescribable verse of strange sounds, which was accompanied by the steady beat of a large drum. I gazed upon them in awe, not completely sure what to do or think. My brain told me to range away, I had heard that natives do not take kindly to intruders, but my heart told me to stay a little longer and watch this fascinating ritual.Then, all of a sudden, a big chief native bellowed out something in African, which made everything come to a halt. The dancing stopped, the chanting stopped and the boomin g of the drum halted. I started to become very nervous and was just about to leave, when all of the natives started charging towards me My heart jumped into my throat, as I stood there dumbfounded. I tried to run but my feet wouldnt move an inch, they were getting closer and closer to me. Finally I started to run but it was too late. I felt my arms being twisted back as they grabbed hold of me. I struggled to get away but they were too strong. Then I felt a blow to the back of my head and that was the last thing I remembered.I woke up later that night with a thumping headache. It was dark and cold. I looked around me, then as my eyes adjusted to the light, I vaguely made out the hard walls beside me with one small snare looking out to the starry sky. I was lying on the knock down of some kind of cell, a prison-like cell, on top of some straw. It was then that I realised the full extent of my actions. Obviously, the natives had captured me and there was no escape, minus the tiny wi ndow about five feet above the floor, and the iron barred door.What would they do to me? I asked myself, shaking at the thought. If only I had stayed back in Bristol, none of this would be happening now. I could be sat at home, reflexion the television, back with all my problems . . . No I thought again. I came here to get away from all that. Anything is better than that, even if it does mean being eaten live(a) by natives.(Spider is now looking quite upset, the shot is of him sat by a river)After that I must have dropped off. Strange how that happened in the given circumstances. I guess I was lovely tired, I hadnt had a decent nights sleep for ages. Everywhere I tried to sleep was freezing and damp and believe it or not nothing had been as comfy as that straw on the floor.I was awoken again by a deep, loud voice. I assailable my eyes startled and saw before me a very large man with a very big spear and a plate. My eyes widened with fright. feel gruff, he then placed the plate on the floor, which had what looked like a collection of small oranges on and shoved it along the floor to me.Man eat food now, he said, then grunted, and stomped out locking the door behind him. I sat there, my emotions mixed with confusion and fright. Should I eat it? It could be poisonous. Then again, the other option was to die from being eaten alive so . . .I opted for eating the food. Besides, I was so hungry.I grabbed some and shoved them in my mouth, hardly bothering to chew. They actually tasted really good. They were the sweetest things Id eaten in ages. The plate was soon empty and my stomach growled for more.For a while I just sat there thinking. The sun shined brightly through the little hole in the wall and I heard the chirping of hissings from outside. Then, all of a sudden, one bird flew straight through the tiny gap and banged headfirst into the wall on the other side of my cell. It fell to the floor its small body motionless.A wave of sadness flowed over me as I s tared at the poor creature. Then I heard a little cheep, cheep and the bird hopped up onto its feet again.Thank goodness I thought. It is saved. I looked at it again and as it tried to fly away, only one wing would work. It twisted and turned frantically trying to get away, but sadly it couldnt.It soon ran out of energy and flopped to the floor again. I went over and saw its tiny chest beating, its wing was obviously broken. I studied around me for anything that would help the bird. I spotted a latch on that looked quite strong and I gathered up some of the hay off of the floor. I then carefully attached the twig to the birds wing with the straw, to act as a kind of splint. The little thing was now too exhausted to be frightened which was good. Now aware that its wing was better, the bird stood up and tried to fly. At first it was just small jumps, which progressed to get bigger.I heard loud footsteps approaching the cell door and I backed towards the other side of the room. It was the same man as before, he had come to collect the plate. As he unlocked the door and came in, he saw the pretty bird hopping around with my attempt of a splint on. He stared at it in amazement.You help this bird? he questioned.Yyyyesss, I stammered, shaking like a leaf. He looked surprised.Man is good, he help bird, he said. Then did what I presumed to be a smile, I wasnt too sure though. Then he left.A few minutes later, the man from before came in again, but this time followed by another member of the tribe.You will come with us now, the new man said, in an even deeper voice than the first one. They led me out of the cell and took me to the place where I had first laid eyes on this village. It was pretty early in the morning, so there wasnt a fire, but everything else was pretty much the same. I was greeted by the faces of at least fifty natives, all cover in war paint and wearing native dress, staring at me like I was some sort of alien. I felt so out of place and scared. Whisp ering went on between the audience as I was led up to the front. Then, everyone went silent as the steady beat of the drum began once more. All of the tribe bowed down, as who I assumed to be the chief came out of one of the biggest little huts.He was wearing a attractively ornate head-dress, accompanied by long, beige, cotton robes with tassels coming off. He walked solemnly up to me and stared at me straight in the eye. The whole tribe was silent now and even the drum had ceased its beating.Man, you trespassed onto our land. Punishment for trespassing, is death he said, almost shouting at the end. Everyone gasped and started their whispering again. I just stood there trembling.But he carried on you have shown great kindness and selflessness in helping little sacred saskarpelli bird. Therefore your punishment has been lifted. You will no longer die I sighed a huge sigh of relief and my heart returned to its normal pace.And, he started again, As a show of our gratitude, I would lik e to make you an honorary member of our tribe, he smiled and the crowd started shouting and cheering. Before I knew it I was being dressed up and having war paint painted on my face. I spent the whole day with them, chanting and dancing, like I had seen them do the night before. It was truly the most amazing, strange and scary forty-eight hours of my lifeThe next day I bid my farewells and carried on my journey. I had a full stomach and plenty more food to keep me going on my way until my next adventure . . .