Thaumaturgic Tattoos

On a very busy street, on a very busy day, voices rang throughout a very busy building. 

Music rang through the ears of men and women sitting on a bench waiting patiently for their turn. 

Some people were laying down on their stomachs, while others were placed upright, eyes pinched shut, and hands filled with heartbeats from the continuous squeeze of their nails digging into their skin.

Outside the door in bright neon lights hung a sign;

“THAUMATURGIC TATTOOS”

“Alrighty, my coworker over there can help you at checkout. You did great! Don’t forget to take care of that tattoo okay? You don’t want any complications or infections.”

The blonde haired tattoo artist waved goodbye to her client as she prepared her station for her next customer.

As she cleaned her area, and disinfected her tattoo gun, her coworker and best-friend, Albie, walked up to her.

“Florence Asa Grey.” She spoke in a voice so profound anyone could have mistaken her tone as sounding furious.

“You have been working all day! You need to take a break! When’s the last time you’ve had something to eat?”

My eyes glanced over to the half eaten pop tart sitting on a book by my desk but before I could speak in my defense she cut me off.

“Don’t you dare say anything about that pop tart Asa Grey.”

My giggle pulls a smile out of the phony frown on her face. 

“Okay, okay. Go ahead and schedule the rest of the appointments for later. We’ll take an hour break.”

She paused her walk to the waiting room as my voice hit her ears like the sound of an alarm clock. 

“Hey and don’t schedule them too late. I still have 8 more tattoos I need to complete before I meet my quota for the week.”

She groaned in compliance and I prepared myself for another one of her fits.

“Asaaaaa why can’t you take a break? You always have to meet your ‘special quota’ before you can be done for the week! You never take breaks. You deserve to rest.”

I hide my frown behind happy eyes and a sigh of longing escapes from my mouth.

“I know, Al. Trust me when I say I wish I could take a break. These tattoos need to be done though. Besides, you know how passionate I am about our business.”

She looks at her feet and twiddles her thumbs. I can tell from the way she bites on her lip, she knows this isn’t a fight she’s going to win.

“I know Asa.” She finally speaks. As she turns to leave, she lets out a sad mumble under her breath; “I just wish you were as passionate about our relationship as you are this business.”

Florence sat there in the loud but empty silence. If only she could tell her friend the truth.

 Maybe she?- 

No.

She wouldn’t get her involved, It would be too risky.

For now, she lets false hope trick her heart into believing that Albie understands.

She’ll just have to ignore the urges to reply to each “I love you” Al says to her lying face, with truths about her secrets, and feelings.

      ****

Hours pass and the quiet tattoo shop is no longer filled with customers and laughter, only dead silence.

“Alrighty Asa, you’ve just saved the world once again.” She looks at the meter on her tattoo gun below, the gun she won’t let anyone else touch.

“That makes 25/25 tattoos.” She glances at the meter making sure the numbers are right before quickly snapping her head back down to look again.

“What?!?! No, no, no, no! How is this possible? I’ve definitely done 25 tattoos in total this whole week!” 

The gun makes a loud thud sound as it’s dropped on the desk. She runs behind the checkout counter and checks the list of customers and recipients she’s seen this week.

Her eyes scan over each name, every letter, each syllabus biting her tongue.

“There!” She screams to the emptiness around her.

“We had a client cancel today and I forgot to tell Ali to schedule someone else!” She bit her nails, a nervous habit she’s had since she was a little girl.

Her heinous habit isn’t the only strange thing she’s inherited from her mother. 

Years ago, back when her great-grandma was just a teenager, she had just started tattooing. She was the only person in her small town who knew how to work a tattoo gun.

Being a dumb teen who wanted boys' attention, she thought it would be funny to “accidentally” mess up a girl in her class who had asked to be tattooed. She tattooed crude and rude remarks on her skin. 

You see, the girl who had asked to be tattooed was deemed a class ‘freak.’ Rumor had gotten out that her parents were witches.

Late at night, a strange knock appeared on her front door. Her parents opened the door and looked below them. Sitting in a basket sat a black envelope with red letters engraved on the back, it read;

“FOR ELEANOR”

Half asleep and not really thinking, her parents headed up the stairs and slid the letter under her door.

Upon opening the envelope and pulling out the letter, ink as black as the night soaked into her hand.

The letter read;

“DEAR ELEANOR,

YOU HAVE MESSED WITH THE WRONG FAMILY.

YOU HAVE MESSED WITH THE WRONG PERSON FOR THE LAST TIME.

FOR GENERATIONS TO COME, YOUR FAMILY WILL BE CURSER.

IF BY THE END OF EACH WEEK, A TOTAL OF TWENTY-FIVE TATTOOS ARE NOT PLACED UPON THE SKIN OF HUMANS OTHER THAN YOURSELF, EVERY TATTOO YOU’VE EVER DONE WILL COME TO LIFE AND DESTROY HUMANITY.

                          -THE CLASS ‘FREAK’

With tears running down her face she ran to show the letter to her parents, but it had melted into ink and soaked into her skin.

Since then, generation through generation has been filled with the art practice known as tattooing. No one has dared go against the witches demand, tattooing has since just become a regular practice in the family.

My mom taught me about the curse as soon as I turned eighteen. I took over her practice when I turned twenty, it’s all i’ve ever known.

Sometimes I wonder if the curse is really true, if the threats made were ones compiled of hatred filled promises. Maybe they were just the words of a sad, hurt girl, who just wanted to look cool and make some friends.

I glance down at my watch and the little ticks of the clock mock me.

“Think, think. Who would let me give them a tattoo at this hour?”

My heart skips a beat and forms a thought in my brain. I grab my phone and click my only pinned contact. 

“Hello?” A sleepy voice echoes through the phone and reaches my heart sitting in its cave.

“Hey Ali, I’m so sorry to wake up but, I was wondering if you’d, maybe, just, consider, letting me tattoo you?”

She laughs and I can hear the tiredness leaving her body.

“Asa it’s 11:48, you need to sleep. Do you wanna come sleep over at mine again? Are the nightmares back?”

My face goes red at the accusations, and the urgency of my situation makes its way into my voice.

“God, no Ali, I'm not having nightmares again! Please just, I’ll explain everything if you come over. It will just be a small tattoo. You wanted a tiny cat tattooed on your finger anyway, yeah? Just let me do that for you.”

The way her voice quivers shows me she’s conflicted on what to do. She’s never yelled at me before, but she always calls me out when I'm wrong. I hear her breath on the phone and expect to get chewed out but instead she lets out a sad “Okay.”

The sound of the dial click has the same pace as the potential tears dripping down her face. 

After an eternity of three minutes, I hear a car door close outside the shop.

“Ali, thank goodness you’re here!” 

I go in to give her a hug but she takes a subtle but sincere step back.

“Yeah, let’s just get this over with. I’m tired.”

Her voice sounds like the end of time, patience getting angry.

“Yeah, okay” I mutter, following her to the blue leather seat where she likes to sit.

The silence between us feels like a stranger walking into our home. She doesn’t make conversation while I sanitize my station, a practice she always excels at. There’s never silence around my Ali.

“Florence” She speaks, causing my heart to drop at the sound of my first name being spoken by the kiss of her lips.

I nod at her, enticing her to keep going.

“I need to put in my two weeks notice, I just don’t think tattooing is something i’m passionate about anymore.”

My gun falls to the floor as my hands instinctively empty all heavy possession in my hand.

If I was holding my heart, I surely would have dropped it too.

I go to grab her hands, and she looks surprised.

“You dropped your gun.” she speaks softly, her crisp voice sounding like the change of summer to winter.

“I don’t care about that! Ali, what's gotten into you? You love this practice?” My grip on her hand grows tighter, as if I let go she’ll get up and leave my life for good.

“No Florence! I don’t love this practice! I-“ she pauses tears trying to escape her throat, words trying to stay put. “I love you.” 

The silence between us isn’t a stranger anymore, it’s not patience getting angry, it’s patience finally getting what he sowed. 

“Ali.” I sigh, not wanting to go past the point of no return, a point we had already reached the first moment I held her hand in mine.

“Don’t say anything.” She lets her tears silently speak for her.

I go to open my mouth again but she cries out once more interrupting me.

“Don’t say it. Say you don’t like girls, say you don’t like anyone but please, don’t say you don’t love me.”

My heart beats spell her name as I once again get interrupted by her sobs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

Her lips are soft and sweet, she tastes like my favorite candy. 

Her tears fall on my face, and I take some of her sadness so she can share this rainy day.

We kiss, and she finally lets me hold the sun.

“Ali, I love you too.”

I hold her face and our hearts meet.

Heart to heart.

After a moment filled with honesty, and love, I glance down at my watch.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

A minute until 12:00 am.

I throw my face in my hands and let the tears I’m holding back drown me.

“Haha! I can’t believe this. I finally get to kiss the girl i’ve been wanting to date and the worlds gonna end!”

She cocks her head and lets out a nervous laugh.

“Hey, the world isn’t gonna end because you didn’t meet your quota!”

Her words of reassurance just assure me more of my fate.

“I’m cursed Ali. Generations ago, my great-grandma did a really mean thing. Her parents, who were deemed witches, cursed us.”

Her head hung low as she let out a sigh. She began to tell her everything.

“So yeah, I'm cursed.”

The silence spoke for itself, or so she thought.

“Asa?” She spoke softly.

No response came out.

“It’s 12:25 am”

A breathy noise of relief escape her throat.

“W-what?”

She looked at her clock and just stared. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved, angry, happy, or scared. 

Even thought she should have felt confused, or maybe even a little frightened, her feelings only felt haunted by one thing; love.

“Ha.. Haha… Hahaha… Hahahahaa!”

Her laughter tickled their ears and pulled a giggle out of the blue eyed girl in front of her.

“Let’s go home Ali.”

“Home.” Ali thought to herself.

“Home.” Asa’s thoughts echoed back.

The very quiet shop, on a very quiet street, filled with the empty sounds of nothing, sat still through the night.

That was until about 3:00 am, when the tiniest cat, the size of a finger, hit his tail on the window.