"What's My Name?" was written by Sandie May Joyce, a.k.a. Sandie Angel
Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
My god! What an awful sound! It pierces through my eardrums and I can feel it pounding on my brain!
Where am I? It seems to me I'm in a school hallway, but how did I get here? I thought I had finished school a long time ago already - I don't remember having enrolled in school once again? What is the name of this school? Is this a college or university?
Oh, nevermind. First things first – Who am I? I don't seem to remember my own name!
First, I need to find who I am.
There are many faces I can see in the hallway, but most are strangers to me. They all come in at the same time to open their lockers, talking with each other. They smile, they giggle - they seem happy enough. Well, I might as well enjoy being here.
Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
Oh, no! Here comes that awful sound again! Where is this sound coming from? I can’t stand it! I hold my hands up to cover up my ears.
"STOP IT!" I shouted into the air.
For a moment, everything and everyone stood still. Everyone looked at me strangely as if I have gone insane.
Now, what’s my name? I need to think real hard.
Mary? No! Carol? No! Josephine? Yes! Just let me be Josephine, and everyone can call me Josie! This name sounds good to me!
"What's your name?" I ask the student next to me.
"I don’t know," she answers.
Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
"What’s the name of this school?" I ask one of the other students in the hallway.
"I don't know that either," he answers.
I feel like I don't belong here - like I have just stepped into a rip in both time and space, only to wind up where I don't belong. My head is empty of any knowledge, any memories.
Suddenly, I see a familiar face.
"Oh, David! I'm so glad to see you here! It seems like you're the only one whom I can remember, and whom I know in this place," I call to David as he walks down the hallway, and I remember him and I remember his face.
"Can you please tell me where or which class I'm supposed to go to? I don't remember what class have I signed up for. I need to go to my class."
Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
David suddenly bends his knees and kneels on the floor. He and everyone else begin scrubbing the floors in the hallway.
"David, no! We didn't come here to scrub the floors! Has everyone gone insane? Why are you all scrubbing the floors?"
Okay now? I hope! It seems like I have been scrubbing this floor too for ages!
I see David still on his hands and knees and scrubbing and scrubbing. Beads of sweat pouring down from his forehead. By now, he had taken off his uniform, stripping down to his tank top. The muscles on his arms flex with his every move, glistening with his sweat.
Scrub! Scrub! Scrub!
"Well, excuse me! Who has assigned us to scrub these floors? And why does it seem like all the students in the whole school are here scrubbing floors?" I repeat a little more sternly this time, demanding an answer.
From David, who looks at me and responds, "Josie, I don’t know. All I know is that one minute I was opening my locker, and the next minute here I am, I'm down on my knees, scrubbing this floor. I don't have a clue why we are doing this!
"Isn't it odd? Do you know what else doesn't make sense, David? I know I have finished school years ago. But somehow today, I am here in this mysterious school. But where are the teachers? Why are we in the hallway, scrubbing floors instead of sitting at a desk, in a classroom?"
"We need to go to the Principal’s office and demand an answer. Josie, but I can't seem to be able to get back up from the floor!" David says.
"Me neither! I'm so tired of scrubbing and I cannot even stop. It's like I'm being forced to scrub the floor."
"Look at them all! All of these students act like they're all in a trance. I don't think they are even aware that they are scrubbing the floor!" I said.
Both David and I are now sweating profusely. My uniform has become glued to my skin.
Scrub! Scrub! Scrub!
David's arms are glistening, his tired veins rising up just beneath the surface of his skin. The brush in his hands is beginning to wear away and his fingers are practically scratching the floor. All the others are practically scrubbing the floors down to the nubs of their hands.
Some with more fragile nails began to wince in pain as the floor began to bleed red with their blood.
Scrub! Scrub! Scrub!
"STOP IT!" I scream out loud. "EVERYONE STOP SCRUBBING! THIS IS INSANE!"
But no one, including myself, seems to have heard me. Everyone is still scrubbing.
I suppose we must be in an episode of Friday The 13th or Twilight Zone?"
Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
"Here comes that annoying sound again. David, can you hear that annoying sound?"
"David? David?"
David doesn’t seem to know I was talking to him. Like everyone else, he is now too pre-occupied in scrubbing the floors.
"I DON’T WANT TO SCRUB FLOORS. I AM TIRED AND HUNGRY AND NEED TO TAKE A BREAK! I WANT to SIT DOWN AND EAT!" This time I'm really crying out loud. I shouted into the air at the top of my lungs.
Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
I tilt my head to listen to the sound.
Suddenly, we are now in the cafeteria. I suppose it's time for us to have lunch! It seems to me everyone is here. I still don’t know anyone's name yet, except for Davids.
Well, David. The guy looks like David anyway, except that now he has changed his name to Brian. Very strange! Isn't it? Don't ask me why, I'm just as puzzled as you are. Brian is now sitting at another table talking with some other students.
What's for lunch? There isn't anything on our plates? If we are to have lunch, shouldn't there be something on our plates, at least?
Somebody, please give us something good to eat! We are supposed to be eating our lunch now.
Oh, great! Now I have food, lots and lots of food on my plate! I don’t know what this is. The food seems delicious. I took in one bite, then another... and another...
The food on my plate seems to me it's never going down! I have been sitting here eating for hours, just trying to eat up what's on my plate. My stomach is so full now I feel it might burst any minute!
Please, somebody! Make me stop eating!
I look around the cafeteria. Everyone here is still stuffing food into their mouths. Their stomachs are becoming huge! David (no, Brian) is now looking like a big fat pig! His face has become roundish, and his nose is now looking like a pig’s nose. At this moment everyone in the cafeteria has a round face and a pig’s nose!
PLEASE, SOMEBODY! STOP! STOP US FROM EATING!!! I shout into the air again.
Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
STOP IT! STOP THAT NOISE! WHOEVER YOU ARE MAKING THAT NOISE, PLEASE STOP!
Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
* Stop *
David tears the paper away from his typewriter! This story is becoming ridiculous and he doesn't think it is going to work! He is not going to put himself into the story and then torture himself and everyone. Either he is David or Brian, it will not make a difference!
Ah! Just scrap it!
He rolls the piece of paper into the shape of a ball and aims for the garbage bin.
* Into the garbage pail it goes! *
Just like a skilled basketball player, David aims so well. The paper ball just flies right into that garbage bin!
It's time for him to get rid of this typewriter, he is not used to writing his stories by typewriter! It's old, and it belongs to his grandmother.
Tomorrow he will go to the shop to get his laptop back. He hopes it will all be fixed by that time. He must make sure the virus is gone before he takes it back. It's an old laptop which he has been using and many good stories were born from that little ole laptop. He doesn't care! As long as it is virus-free and it helps him to do his work he will just settle for that.
David knows himself is a damn good writer, but he is unaware that whenever he writes his characters would come to life.
David gets up from his chair, walks out of his room, closing the door behind him. He needs to go somewhere to rouse up some inspiration.
* The curtain falls *
Copyright (c) Sandie May Joyce
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Great job in keeping the suspense! It captivates me from beginning to end. I couldn't wait to find out what that rata-tat-tat sound was all about. Great job in winding down to the end which left me go "Ah!" and I was totally satisfied". Well-done, Sandie!
Gavin
Reviewed by Patricia Lieb
12/6/2020
Quite interesting, Had to finish reading because I got so into the writing. Rat-a-tat-tat.... Had to see how the author would pull it off, which she did very well. Thank you Sandie May Joyce for the play/story.
Reviewed by May Yu
12/1/2018
You didn't indicate it was a play, but when you say at the end the curtain falls then I'm assuming this must have been a play with the narrator speaking and the people acting. Great job on this!
A fine story with a unique perspective. It drew me in and made me wonder. Was that a jackhammer? What was happening in the hallway didn't match a jackhammer. Was it an automatic rifle? Sure sounded like it. Scrubbing the floor to remove the blood, fit right in with the idea. And then came the whammy, it was a typewriter. Typing away on paper until your finger nubs bled. The only thing worse would be dipping a quill into ink and writing three words for the dam ink ran out.
Am struggling to write this with my voice dictation system balking as I write. Still two levels of technology above the old typewriter.
Your words took me on a trip through a few dimensions, Sandie! For SURE, this is full of the macabre, Sandie style!
Love ya!
Jane
Reviewed by Danny Underwood
11/5/2018
Intriguing story and very unique, as only Sandie can write this kind of story. I'm assuming it is a play because you mentioned at the end that David got out of the room and the curtain falls. Well-done, Sandie!
This certainly did have the makings of 'The Twilight Zone'. I enjoyed the transition which shed light on "rat-a-tat-tat". I have a recurring dream where I'm back at school teaching, and the students aren't responding to my directions.
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