Nameless

• Ryan Childs, Grade 10, Kellyville High School
• Short Story
• 2014

Excellence Award in the 'The Text Generation 2014' competition

I can't stop thinking of my name; I think it was Shaun, it rhymes with worn. A few letters, that's all that differs me. A few sounds, that's all that singles me out. A few twists of the tongue is all that stops me from being just another white pawn on the chessboard. White, like the room I'm in, the gown I'm wearing. I've been told it is my talents, my interests that make me different. But when someone calls me, they don't call "Violin!" or "Books!" they call my name. How can we call it original to have different talents and interests, when everyone has different talents and interests? It's all the same. All that changes is your name. So what's going to happen when I forget mine? What do I become when I am nameless? I cannot forget. So I keep thinking of my name, I think it was... Shaun... It rhymes with torn. Yes, I remember when she used to call my name, that sweet girl with the blonde hair and blue eyes. Blue, like the sky outside my window, the lake down below. I think I loved that girl. She seems important. She used to look at me like I was her entire world. I've got too many memories in my head, it's like a bookshelf that is so full that the books are stuck and I can't pull one out, only read the covers. All the people here have the same name, doctor; I think it is they all wear the same clothes. I've had so many come into my room. Especially the day that the beeping wouldn't stop, they all came rushing in here, like someone's life depended on it. I couldn't tell any of them apart, that is the power of names. That is why I cannot forget mine. I cannot forget my name. I think it was... It rhymed with something... Shaun. Yes that was it! Only, that was not my voice, it was too high, too sweet. There is someone else in my room. Some girl with blonde hair, talking to one of those people who have the same name as all the others. I think the girl is crying. I feel a tear stream down my face, strange, I don’t remember feeling sad. I don’t remember holding the girl’s hand as tears rolled down her face. I don’t remember her arms around me as I whispered goodbye. I don’t remember anything, just an empty void. There was something I needed to remember, something that I told myself I could not forget. It rhymed with gone.