I wrote this for a creative writing class in college. The assignment was to pick a character from a movie or book and write a dramatic monologue from their point of view. I chose to write mine from the perspective of Alex Corvis (he's the main character in The Crow: Salvation...it's the third Crow movie, if you haven't seen it it's actually pretty good). So without further ado:

"It’s interesting to jolt upright in a prison freezer. You touch your hand to your ruined face to feel the warped bruise. In all the trauma you have no recognition of your fate. 'What happened?' Flashback to your own execution. They say that electrocution doesn’t hurt, that you’re rendered unconscious before pain has a chance to register. They lie. The pain is unimaginable…believe me. They slap a mask on your face and connect you to a labyrinth of snaking wires. You give your last words. 'I loved Lauren…I still do…I’m innocent.' She was innocent. Fifty-three stab wounds for trying to protect her father. Conviction for loving her. Hear the protestors’ cries. 'People here are protesting the execution of a kid just turning twenty-one. A kid who had a tough life.' Last rites. The flip of a switch. The electric fire begins snaking through your veins with 3,000 volts of fury. Every neuron cries out for the searing pain to stop. You convulse with lost hope. In theory, twenty seconds later, you're at peace. Silent darkness.

Your head aches with the memory—every detail is renewed. A rustle of ebon feathers silently instructs you to get to the mirror and peel. Have you ever peeled off your own face? It’s a hell of a way to start the afterlife. So you pick at the rubbery flesh; hear each piece fall to the cement floor with a 'squish.' It’s not as easy as strip off the dead and be renewed—you’re no mythical firebird. Your reflection is a mask that emerges, reminiscent of the twisted grin of Tragedy. Comedy is on vacation.

You get out of the prison. Climb the barbed wire. Look at your ruined, torn, hands heal themselves instantly. Like your mortality, your veins and skin stitch themselves back together. Glide off the roof with borrowed wings. You know you have to follow this black bird. Something innate has instructed you that the crow is the reason you’re back. 'Sometimes, the crow brings a soul back to set the wrong things right.' You go to the evidence room. Apparently you’re officially a detective…but it’s never that simple. Locate your own file. Flashback: fighting with Lauren, being knocked unconscious, a knife you’ve never held, murder, trial, execution. Why can’t you just die? 'I thought I’d be with her now.' Your mission is clear. Vengeance. Justice. Truth. Take the witness list and 'your' knife. 'Exhibit AC-005.'

Memory is not a friend. You remember you loved her. The flashbacks become more painful to bear. The day at the junkyard. Lauren as Bruce Lee. 'Your Shaolin style is no match for my kung fu.' You tell yourself to stop reminiscing. If only it was optional. 'Your flying crane style is no match for my drunken tiger kick.' You beg for the stream of consciousness to stop. 'Your mad monkey love is no match…' You wanted to be with her forever. 'Only forever?'

Life is a game of chess. Checkmate is not supposed to be temporary—it’s the end. Your king was down and the game was over. Now you find yourself playing once again. You want to be with her. 'Forever.' You don’t even know what you are anymore. An angel, a murderer, vengeance and justice incarnate. Where did you come back from? 'Big bang, primordial ooze, divine hand of a benevolent creator? All possibilities. Although, recent events have given me doubts about the benevolent creator.'

The man with the scar—he’s the king. If only you could get away from the grief. Lauren’s family deserves to know the truth. So do you. The fact that you’re 'alive' will shock everyone else as much as you—it’s not everyday that you have a conversation with a walking corpse.

You pick off the pawns one by one. Dutton. Erlich. Larkin. Toomey. The ever-present flashbacks let you see Lauren’s fate. 'The cops find her in the junkyard and grab her, hold her down. She struggles to get free and runs—they follow. Captured again. She grabs Erlich’s gun and shoots him in the foot. Steel flashes in the moonlight. Fifty three stab wounds.' You fall over, wracked with grief. Every 'crime scene' has your calling card—a crow in blood. It takes a while for the guilty to realize what’s happened; I guess karma doesn’t play catch-up very often. It’s funny. No matter what, they try to shoot you. You put the gun in your mouth, pull the trigger, and feel the gaping exit wound close. Still, they feel the need to try. Eventually, it becomes amusing.

You know you need the man with the scar. 'Raised, V-shaped slashes.' He’s the king. He put the knife in your car. He had Lauren killed for witnessing dirty cops laundering dirty money, blood money. Framed you for a fall. Damn, society’s backwards. You go on, killing your way to the top. Only when you find your king can you be with her. 'As cliché as it sounds, the truth really will set you free.' Show no mercy. Your motivation is ever-clear. You’re back for vengeance, for justice, for love. Then eternity."

i found this quite enjoyable to read but since i haven't seen the movie and am not familar with the character i can't really comment on other stuff regarding this piece