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    Senseless
    Senseless
    Senseless
    Ebook141 pages1 hour

    Senseless

    By TJ Davis

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Senseless is a collection twelve stories and a poem that examine the multiples meanings of the word. The Grim Reaper needs flowers. Two doctors try to quantify pain. An elderly couple tries everything to keep their marriage exciting. A museum worker deals with boredom. A young man introduces his girlfriend to his suspicious parents. A stranger walks into a bar. A husband must describe his newborn baby to his blind wife. A boy begins to lose his hearing. A food taster loses his sense of taste. A man wakes up dead. A dental assistant gets a job in Transylvania.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTJ Davis
    Release dateApr 28, 2018
    ISBN9781985119406
    Senseless
    Author

    TJ Davis

    TJ Davis is an international teacher from Minnesota. His published writing includes five collections of short stories, two novellas, and a travel memoir about his three years living in Myanmar. His short story “Itchy” finished in the top 16 of the Discovery Channel’s “How Stuff Works Halloween Fiction Contest.” His works have also been included in the Chicago Center of Literature and Photography and Moloko House. He currently lives in Sofia, Bulgaria.

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      Book preview

      Senseless - TJ Davis

      Senseless

      Copyright 2018 TJ Davis

      Published by TJ Davis at Smashwords

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Table of Contents

      Acknowledgements

      Senseless

      Pain Scale

      Death Visits the Florist

      Grandpa Joe and Grandma Barbara

      Museum

      Fencing

      Bar Fight

      Seeing Eye Dad

      Hearing Loss

      Ear, Nose, and Throat

      Backlife

      The Vampire Dentist

      Twenty to One

      Acknowledgements

      Thank you to Marianna Manavis for such an awesome book cover and the inspiration for the first story in this collection. Thank you to all the English teachers of ACS, past and present, for shaming me into improving my grammar. Thank you to the screaming baby upstairs that kept me up at night and able to think about what happens next in these stories. Thank you to IJ for all the hard work you did. Thank you to the Sofia school board for calling a week of classes off so I could finish this. And, of course, thank you to all of my students, friends, family, and readers for supporting me.

      Senseless

      A war. A mother. A son. A knocking. A window. Running. Crying. Hiding. Shushing. A sunset. Cold. Squeezing. Fear. Crying. Hugging. Sleeping. Birds. Gray. Walking. Sunrise. Walking. A rumble. Raining. Hiding. Crying. Walking. Stopping. Crouching. Eating. Walking. Walking. Stumbling. Walking. A forest. A trail. A sound. Stopping. The incident.

      A stillness.

      A horse. A trail. A border. A bribe. A trade. A forgery. A boat. A crossing.

      Through the smudged window, Amirah watched the black top hat glide toward the doorstep.

      The sun divorced the sky, and the cold descended like a blanket of needles. Inside the single-room home, Amirah and her son stayed close to the fire. The wooden structure's walls were full of cracks. When the wind gusted, they could feel it clutching at their bare feet. But the fire was good.

      A stained wooden table and two chairs were the only pieces of furniture. Two straw mattresses hid in the shadows. Besides the glow of the stove, the only other light came from a fat candle on the table. A few shelves on the wall supported wooden, metal, and ceramic bric-a-brac piled haphazardly, threatening to topple if the walls should shake. Amirah cut carrots for a thin soup that was bubbling on the stove. Davin sniffed the air expectantly but returned to coloring in his notebook. He clutched the colors in his ten-year-old fists. Whatever he was making, it required big, sweeping strokes. A quiet guilt hovered around him.

      The contents of the shelves rattled at the knock.

      The last time she had heard such a forceful knock, she had nearly thrown Davin out a window before sliding through it herself. But that was months ago and a thousand miles away. The urge to flee came once again, but she ignored it and approached the knocking.

      The door creaked open with her pull, and she saw an impossibly skinny man in a pinstriped suit.

      Amirah? he asked, peering over her shoulder toward the kitchen.

      Davin, she said over her shoulder.

      The boy came to her side.

      My mother doesn't understand the language, he said to the man. Davin was accustomed to saying this. He'd learned the language quickly, harvesting more words every day. Even if he owed his mother everything (his original life and this one) he still felt ashamed that she needed to communicate through him.

      I'm from the municipality. I need to talk to her. May I come in?

      He's a government worker. He wants to talk to us. You should invite him in.

      She waved him in and closed the door, but only after darting her eyes to check if any of the neighbors were watching. The man was short, and when he took off the black top hat he revealed a shining, bald head. The floorboards creaked underneath the trio's slow progress to the heat and light of the iron stove. The man brushed the top hat, even though it was spotless.

      Amirah pulled out one of the two kitchen chairs and pointed to it.

      Thank you.

      What's his name, she asked her son.

      Please, sit. What's your name? Davin asked.

      Havishore.

      Mr. Havishore smiled oddly. His mouth widened, but his lower lip dipped, causing a drop of drool to shine. Havishore slurped up the drop with a soft sucking sound. Davin remained standing, for there were no other chairs. He saw his home through Mr. Havishore's eyes, and the overflowing shelves and meager furniture made him want to give excuses. At least the floor was spotless. His mother swept whenever she felt nervous.

      Amirah pushed aside a pile of metallic kitchenware and dishes until she found what she was looking for. She poured water into a kettle and said one of the few words she knew. Tea?

      That would be wonderful, Havishore said, nodding his head. He leaned over the table to get a better look at Davin's drawing.

      It's a fire, Davin said, showing the man his freckled smile.

      So it is, he said, placing the top hat on the table. How long have the two of you lived here?

      Davin looked at his mother, who stood wiping her hands on the single towel they owned. She transferred the bubbling pot of soup to the floor and placed the kettle on the stovetop. Almost six months, Davin said.

      And how are you finding our country?

      Are we enjoying this country?

      It's awful, she said.

      It's an improvement, Davin translated.

      And your former country. Do you miss it?

      Do you miss home? Davin asked, genuinely curious and enjoying this chance to talk about the time and place they ignored every day.

      She pursed her lips and fetched three cups from the cupboard. The cupboard door popped open when she tried to shut it.

      There's no point in missing it, she said to the wall. This is our home now.

      Davin recited her answer faithfully.

      I've read the papers, Mr. Havishore said, swiveling his head around the room. Dreadful business what's going on over there.

      Dreadful, Davin said. Letting the word swirl in his mouth. Tasting it and finding it fit. Every new word must be kept. It was the most important task he had. Their lives depended on it, whether he wanted them to or not. He lifted one foot up so he stood like a flamingo and scratched the bottom of his bare, dirty foot. The nails were cracked and caked with dirt.

      The water in the kettle began to roil. Amirah took it off the heat and poured three cups of tea for them. Mr. Havishore thanked her and waited for her to sit down before speaking again.

      I'm afraid I'm here to deliver some bad news. He sipped his tea. You are in a lot of trouble, Davin.

      He says we're in trouble.

      Why? What have you done? Amirah asked.

      I haven't done anything, Davin said.

      You broke a boy's arm at school today, Havishore replied gravely. The boy's father contacted us. We need to take you away.

      What is he saying? Amirah asked. Mr. Havishore's tone alarmed her. Her son's silence terrified her. She waited for the translation, but Davin pretended not to hear her. He curled his toes.

      It wasn't me. There must be some mistake.

      The boy said it was you. Your teacher said it was you. Some classmates of yours said it was you.

      Who?

      That's none of your concern. You need to come with me. Pack your bag and say goodbye to your mother.

      He wants to take me away, Davin said, finally looking at his mother. Seeing the aghast look on her face made his stomach feel like a snake was slithering in his guts.

      Mr. Havishore took out a pipe and used his slender fingers to stuff it with a dark brown, almost black, substance. He lit a match and took deep puffs, turning the enclosed space into a dark cloud. The smoke was sweet, like the underside of freshly peeled bark.

      My son, Amirah said, pointing at her chest, grabbing Davin by the wrist, and pulling him beside her.

      Mr. Havishore puffed and puffed. He looked back at Davin and made the soft sucking sound again. Do you like it here? Do you eat every day?

      Before Davin could respond, Amirah slammed a fist on the table, making her teacup and saucer shatter on the floor. My son! She pointed a calloused finger at Havishore. No go. You go!

      The smoke was stinging her eyes. Her fingertips were tingling and the room was beginning to lose focus.

      I want you to repeat what I'm about to say to your mother. Do you understand me? Mr. Havishore's cold eyes bore into the boy.

      Davin nodded but drew closer to his mother so his hip was at her shoulder.

      Your son hurt another boy. He needs to come with me. We have laws in this country, and you can't hurt somebody and not expect to pay the consequences.

      A

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