Opening Monologues Novels & Stories

He looked surprised. Miriam whispered, "It wasn't supposed to open." Eleanor nodded. "Not yet." A deep metallic groan echoed through the valley. The enormous door shuddered. Then... Slowly... It began to open by itself. The sound reverberated through the mountains. Like the awakening of something that had slept for generations. Samuel stared in disbelief. "No one touched it." The Auditor smiled faintly. "No one needed to." From somewhere inside the mountain... A calm female voice echoed through hidden speakers.

{EDMONDO'S POV} * * The heavy door creaks open, and the weight of silence falls over the room like a guillotine. I step inside, my boots hitting the concrete with a deliberate rhythm. Each step echoes off the cold, unwelcoming walls. My arctic is supposed to be sacred; a fortress of solitude where silence reigns and whispers dare not tread. But now, it’s polluted. The air feels different, tainted by… these people. I don’t ask what’s going on. That would imply I care. Instead, I pause in the doorway, my gaze sweeping over the room. “Well,” I say, my tone light, almost amused. “I didn’t know we were hosting a circus tonight. Where’s the clown?”

I respond, my voice steady as I lock the script's subtext into my mind. Caedmon nods, quickly turning to instruct Garran. The pack stewards sound the horn, and the recording crystals ignite with white light. The other performers step back into the shadows as I glide onto the stone floor, my hands lifting the heavy hem of my skirt. Unlike the quiet grace of yesterday, this scene demands a violent burst of raw energy. The moment my eyes lock onto the male lead, my human chest heaves, and a shattered, breathless sob tears from my throat—a sound so hollow and heavy with sorrow that it echoes through the stone hall.

Elder Anton lectures on honour, hope, and reproduction, but I am too caught up in my misery to care. "Elara Montgomery!" My name echoes over the courtyard, and all the she-wolves look at me. "Pay attention," Mindy whispers urgently. "He called your name, get on stage." Oh, shit. Why do I have to be first? I take a deep breath and walk onto the stage with wobbly legs. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this. The mantra repeats and pulses through me as I stand next to elder Anton.

My hands trembled violently as I gripped the microphone, though it felt unbearably heavy. The crowd below was a dark, suffocating blur. Countless eyes stared up at me—some full of mockery, some indifferent, and others gleaming with malicious joy. I parted my cracked lips, my voice coming out raw and raspy as I began to recite the script Sebastian had given me the night before. "I-I'm Theodore Langley. I'm a shameless scumbag…"

William Shakespeare The Merchant of Venice, Act 4, Scene 1 PROLOGUE I open my eyes and am immediately assaulted by a rogue swarm of butterflies in my stomach. A lazy grin stretches across my face and I can’t help but let out a sigh of contentment. Despite the crazy circus in my belly, I have never been happier. The day I have been working towards all month has finally arrived; my wedding day.

Ophelia’s POV: I didn’t think. I didn't hesitate. I threw my entire body weight against the door, desperate to hear the click of the latch. But just as the sliver of moonlight from the porch was about to vanish, something slammed against the wood. Probably his hand. The force of it sent a jarring vibration up my arms, rattling me. "Too late," a voice rumbled, followed by a sharp click of a tongue. "Should’ve checked the peephole before opening the door to the big bad wolf."

If I must strip, then I will make a damn unforgettable show of it. "Do it! Do it! Do it!" Ellean starts the chant and it is soon taken up by Alec and Marina. "Oh I'll do it alright." I say and grab another shot off a nymph for courage. The shot hits the spot, loosening up my limbs. I spin around and start to march for the bar and then my legs forget their function and stop and my jaw drops as I stare unapologetically. A group of wolves just walked in through the door and he is right there at the hilt, a walking, talking god.

I wanted to be among them; I wanted to feel those around me and what their reactions were to what I have to ask them. When noon comes, I smile as everyone looks to the stage, but no one walks out. I let a little more time pass and listen as the murmuring starts. I then lift my head to the sky and let out a loud howl. Everyone around me jumps and steps back. I lower my head and look around me as I then say, “Welcome Romulus Guardian. I called you all here as there is a decision to be made. And this decision is bigger than just me.”

The actor proudly lifted his chin, commanding their attention, and spoke the opening lines of the play: Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. As the actor continued his long monologue, introducing the play, Caitlin was overwhelmed by his clarity of voice, by his precision, by how the actors performed in this day and time. It was truly an art form. The play unfolded, the narrator followed by a large, rowdy group of actors, who played out an opening fight scene in a crowded marketplace, quickly establishing the rivalry between the two families in the play: the Montague