A sketch by Jean-Pierre Martinez
Light gradually fills the room. A couple is sleeping under a sheet. A pounding sound is heard, followed by three knocks. The man startle awake and fall out of bed. Dressed in striped pyjamas, reminiscent of prisoner attire, he rubs his ribs wincing, before looking around as if recognising nothing. He looks at his pyjamas, surprised. He gets up and searches the room for an exit but finds nothing. He freezes upon noticing the spectators watching him. Shaking his head as if dispelling a bad dream, he returns to the bed and comes face to face with the woman, also in striped pyjamas, who has also started to wake up while his back was turned. They both scream in terror upon seeing each other.
Her and Him – Ah!!!
Her (covering her chest with her hands) – What are you doing here?
Him – What about you?
She gets up as well and performs a similar routine to his earlier, while he watches.
Her – But… where are we?
Him – No idea…
Her – Do you even know your name?
Him (mimicking a no) – And you?
Her – If we’re at summer camp, there’s probably a name sewn on a little tag inside your pyjamas. Let me see…
She approaches him and tries to look behind his pyjama collar. He recoils, but eventually lets her.
Her – Oh yes, there’s something written! I can’t read it! Take that off, let me see…
He finally agrees to remove his pyjama top. He is now shirtless and visibly uneasy. She leans over the tag and reads.
Her – Adam…
He looks perplexed, rubbing his ribs mechanically.
Her – Are you injured?
Him – It’s nothing. Probably cracked a rib falling out of bed. (Pause) And you?
Her – No, I’m fine…
Him – I mean, you might also have your name on a sewn tag somewhere. Let me see…
He approaches, but she stops him with a firm gesture.
Her – We’ll deal with that later!
Him – At summer camp, you think…? There’s no one around…
Her – We might be the first…
Him – Or the last… (They explore the surroundings separately and face each other again.) Haven’t we met somewhere before?
Her – In your dreams, maybe… So, you really see no way to get us out of here?
Him – Hey, we’re not married, right? Why should it be my job to get you out?
Her – Excuse me…
Him – Well… What do we do?
Her – Do we have to do something…?
Him (determined) – I hate staying idle. I go back to sleep…
Backing up his words, he go back to the bed.
Her – Well…
Him – Maybe it’s a nightmare… And when we wake up, it’ll be better…
Her – Or worse…
They are about to lie down again, a bit awkward about sharing the same bed.
Him – Do you have a preferred side?
Her – No…
Him – Well, I’ll take this one again, then.
He lies down on the same side as before.
Her – Habits form quickly, huh…?
She lies down on the other side but doesn’t seem eager to sleep.
Him – Can I turn off the light?
Her – I would have liked to read a bit, but we don’t even have the script for the play…
Him – I’ll turn it off then. (He looks for a way to turn it off.) I don’t see a switch… (The light gradually dims.) Oh, there it is! (He turns to her.) Well then… Until another day, I guess…
Her – That’s right… Until another day…
Blackout.
Her – Should I set the alarm?
Him – Isn’t it Sunday tomorrow?
Her – There’s no alarm, anyway…
Black.
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A sketch from the collection Lost Times Chronicles
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)
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