I was invited (well, not personally, but still…) to join the Fandango’s Friday Flashback!
Fandango scrolls back, every Friday, and gives a second chance to a post he had published on the same date, years before. I thought it was a great way to remember some of the stuff I did a while back, and I decided to participate…
So here it is!
Written on November 25th of 2016, here is yet another piece of fiction that I came up with for November Notes. I really miss the challenge, which used to be hosted by the fabulous Sarah Doughty.
I hope you’ll enjoy it (again), and I wish you’re safe and well, wherever you are…
As he entered the tattoo shop, a chill went down his spine. He wasn’t afraid of needles, that had never bothered him, and his canevas-like body was there to prove it. But it was different this time, and he walked solemnly to the guy’s booth.
“Play with ink all you want kid, but always give yourself a year to be sure you want a picture to be part of you…” It was one of the few lessons his father had passed on to him, and although it had itched him to break the golden rule several times, he had always respected it. And the old man was right.
This time was special, but he was even more satisfied with himself for resisting the temptation to rush to the tattoo parlor. Everyday of the last year, he had promised himself to be here today. And here he was, at last.
The whole year through, she had taken him on a roller coaster of emotions. Somedays he had felt like sky was the limit, and others he saw no point in going on. He had fought through the pain, and enjoyed the moments of grace, and there was no doubt in his mind that she was the love of his life.
After twelve months of ups and downs, he just knew she was “the one”. He had laughed at the fools who promised to love forever… Now he knew all those songs, those movies and those books held some truth he felt blessed to experience… He felt blessed to be one of those fools, at last!
He took off his shirt and stretched on the booth’s chair. As he applied the stencil on his neatly shaved chest, the artist warned him one last time.
You’re sure about this, man? You know how I hate to do names… The font is pretty bold, and I’d hate to have to cover it up when she leaves you in a couple of months…
He grinned at the stupid question… He wasn’t one to take his tattoos lightly.
Go ahead, bud. This one’s a sure shot…
Closing his eyes as the needles started scratching his skin, carving her name across his heart, he sighed. He embraced the pain of her identity being inked into him. He couldn’t think of any better way to make his peace with bringing her to her last rest… 365 days ago.
In response to November Notes Writing Challenge by Sarah Doughty of Heartstring Eulogies and Rosema from A Reading Writer .
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