Damp Walls

By Arash Mohtat

It has been for years that many delusions had been appeared on the wall one after another in this cozy cellar bath, the favorite one of Dr. Johnson. From the time that the drunken slouch Jack the mason forgot to put the second coat of his mud on the back of the wall possibly during one of his up keeping quack tasks, the wall started to absorb water.

That might have happened some time back in late 60’s when he made another excuse to cover up his sleeping over habit when he did not appear at work the other day. It was one of those long winter nights in St. Louis, Missouri that the fancy gesture of juicy wet mud suddenly stopped and got frizzed in the arteries of the cold wall. It was like when an outcry of freedom gets rapidly hushed with the volley of bullets. It would be a scent of calm solidity diffused in the humid air like an acrid aroma of amnesia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arash Mohtat
• Release date: Jul 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476271743

Arash Mohtat

I did not live Damp Walls myself to the end, I had experienced some parts of it here and there but I had dreamed it as a movie getting framed in front of my eyes many times. I wish that I was able to share that frame with my readers. My bigger wish is to see it as a movie on the screen.The characters are not real but they can be found around us. There is a specific moment in the book that I had shared it with Arash and actually that initiated the story of the book.

Book preview

Damp Walls

By Arash Mohtat

Copyright 2012 Arash Mohtat

I did not live Damp Walls myself to the end, I had experienced some parts of it here and there but I had dreamed it as a movie getting framed in front of my eyes many times. I wish that I was able to share that frame with my readers. My bigger wish is to see it as a movie on the screen.

The characters are not real but they can be found around us. There is a specific moment in the book that I had shared it with Arash and actually that initiated the story of the book. I had left this to my readers and I offer a good gift to whoever that come with the closest guess. You can share your ideas and also your guess through the book website(http://damp-walls.com). Also, you can find more about my new works in there as well or through my twitter account.

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To Sheila and Ayla

Dirty cold water has been jerking around the swollen dark blue blotches under the rot on the walls for years. With each bath shower more and more water had been reserved and waited for the right time to follow their unavoidable fate slowly and slowly. The trace of the pores on the cold walls had always been making different patterns some very familiar and easy to believe and some not. Under the glory of sunlight in windy cloudy days of early springs when with each elation of wind some spongy clouds shifted to one side of the tepid sunlight beams and make the images on the wall like the delusion of a lean young girl lolling on her swollen breasts and dark womb surrounded by miserable disabled tiny worn out elephants accompanied by laughing donkey clown heads steering on her tits while a hungry calf is sucking her gouty breasts to observe more out of the splashes of livid milk.

It has been for years that many delusions had been appeared on the wall one after another in this cozy cellar bath, the favorite one of Dr. Johnson among all the other baths in the house even those that have more modern look. From the time that the drunken slouch Jack the mason forgot to put the second coat of his mud on the back of the wall possibly during one of his up keeping quack tasks, the wall started to absorb water. That might have happened some time back in late 60’s when he made another excuse to cover up his sleeping over habit when he did not appear at work the other day. It was one of those long winters night in St. Louis, Missouri that the fancy gesture of juicy wet mud suddenly stopped and got frizzed in the arteries of the cold wall. It was like when an outcry of freedom gets rapidly hushed with the volley of bullets. It would be a scent of calm solidity diffused in the humid air like an acrid aroma of amnesia.

During the cold prolix patience for summer to come, watching the thin neighbor boy making love to his shaggy girlfriend through the tiny window which is clung to the bathroom ceiling would be probably the only yummy pastime habit in this small college town close to St. Louis, Missouri. However, all that would have been stopped some day and today Sept 25, 2007 is the day. This would be the day that Dr. Johnson had a thought of replacing the old US map which was hung on the wall for many years with a new and better looking one. As far as he remembers, the map was always hung there. Who puts the map up there probably is not clear to him. He might be forgotten that it was himself or somebody else who put it up there. Why now, he suddenly noticed to the yellowish color of the map probably because of absorbing more humidity over the years, is also not clear. However, the importance is probably not the reason of that; it is more because of what was hidden behind it. Scales of old paint layers are falling down and soon the water will find its path out. Small pits are now visible and dirty cold water will finally look at the sun lights again. All would see the refraction of light again; all water that had been crowded for years in that dumpy hollow in the back of the eminent wall. All that has been doing for years was just whispering slowly in between the vowels of sudden drops into the pit but there would be more to come.

Soon Dr. Johnson would be back home from his academic trip and would be prepared for his private bath