Inked Memories (Dedicated to Ri), chapter 1
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I stared at the reflection that stood before me in my full-length mirror. Sunlight fingered its way through the curtains, and my blonde hair shone a rich, luminous, golden colour. My eyes twinkled like stars but were as calm and blue as the ocean. But one feature I couldn't tear my eyes from was the newly inked tattoo resting on my hip. The tattooist at 'Skin Art' had done a great job. The curves of the symbol were perfect. They were drawn so beautifully and passionately from just one look what the Japanese symbol suggested-Love, but it meant more than love, it was loving memory.
I had two other tattoos too, done by my closest friend since we were kids, Keira, she was like a sister to me. We had a dream, to open our own tattooing business, which finally came true a couple of years ago. We'd play music together in our breaks, me on my red and black electric guitar, and herself on her chequered bass. She loved that bass; I bought it for her on her 16th birthday, she said it was the best gift she ever received.
So when we first opened our tattoo shop, she wanted to try out her artistic skills on me right away. She began drawing a snake coiling itself around my ankle, its scales becoming alive and slithering across my skin; it was truly remarkable.
Another tattoo, (which is my favourite), is a horseshoe on my left shoulder. Keira said she tattooed it on me so I would be forever blessed with luck, and as a reminder of her, so that no matter how far or where I go, that she'd always be with me, and as she scratched the picture into my skin, she sung "Poprocks and Coke", which we called "our song".
Two days after she had completed the horseshoe, she died in a horrific motorcycle accident. I survived with only a few cuts and a broken arm, but the impact on Keira crushed her ribs and impaled her lung; she died in the ambulance.
I treasure the horseshoe because it saved my life, and it's my only living memory of her, but why couldn't it have protected her too? I lie awake almost every night wondering why it had to happen.
I turned away from the mirror, picked up my electric guitar and began playing "Poprocks and Coke".
I decided the next morning I had to start fresh, a new beginning; it's what Keira would've wanted. So I headed back to 'Skin Art'. The tattooist who I saw yesterday was there again; I figured he must've been the owner of the store.
He smiled when he saw me walking through the door and said, "Hey! How's the new ink?" whilst gesturing to my hip.
"It's great, thanks," I replied. "It's amazing, it looks better than what I ever imagined!"
"Glad to hear!" He smiled once again.
I took a deep breath and walked forwards slowly.
"Could you do me a favour please?" I asked.
"Sure!" he said again...still smiling
"Do you have any jobs going here? I used to own my own tattoo business before...erm...an unforeseen incident, and I'd like to carry on working as a skin-artist."
The smile suddenly disappeared and a serious look creeped across his face. He let out a loud, heavy sigh, slammed both hands down on the counter, and shook his head.
"Well, I can tell you straight from the look of ya', that I don't think you'd be cut out for holding the sissy's hand when he gets a piercing done! So that's why I'm gonna say yes, you may work for me, but you have to be a full-time tattooist, piercer, and my new work mate in this joint."
I hung my head and replied, "Oh, I see, well, I better go the...wait, di...di...did you just say I could WORK for you??"
"Welcome aboard!" he laughed, welcoming me with open arms.
I was shocked. To tell the truth, I was more than shocked, I was overwhelmed. I felt like a big balloon ready to burst; I didn't know what to say but wear a stupid grin on my face and stand there. Eventually, I managed to whisper, "Thank you, sir."
He pointed at me and replied, "Now, don't go giving me that shit, just 'cause you're new. The name's Tim, and that's it. God, the cheek of some these days," he laughed aloud, took hold of my hand, and then shook it vigorously.
I giggled, and added, "Yes sir...I...I mean Tim!"
Finally, I thought, I could start over once again, pick up from where I was. I had a funny tingling feeling in my left shoulder that this was going to be very, very good.
I had two other tattoos too, done by my closest friend since we were kids, Keira, she was like a sister to me. We had a dream, to open our own tattooing business, which finally came true a couple of years ago. We'd play music together in our breaks, me on my red and black electric guitar, and herself on her chequered bass. She loved that bass; I bought it for her on her 16th birthday, she said it was the best gift she ever received.
So when we first opened our tattoo shop, she wanted to try out her artistic skills on me right away. She began drawing a snake coiling itself around my ankle, its scales becoming alive and slithering across my skin; it was truly remarkable.
Another tattoo, (which is my favourite), is a horseshoe on my left shoulder. Keira said she tattooed it on me so I would be forever blessed with luck, and as a reminder of her, so that no matter how far or where I go, that she'd always be with me, and as she scratched the picture into my skin, she sung "Poprocks and Coke", which we called "our song".
Two days after she had completed the horseshoe, she died in a horrific motorcycle accident. I survived with only a few cuts and a broken arm, but the impact on Keira crushed her ribs and impaled her lung; she died in the ambulance.
I treasure the horseshoe because it saved my life, and it's my only living memory of her, but why couldn't it have protected her too? I lie awake almost every night wondering why it had to happen.
I turned away from the mirror, picked up my electric guitar and began playing "Poprocks and Coke".
I decided the next morning I had to start fresh, a new beginning; it's what Keira would've wanted. So I headed back to 'Skin Art'. The tattooist who I saw yesterday was there again; I figured he must've been the owner of the store.
He smiled when he saw me walking through the door and said, "Hey! How's the new ink?" whilst gesturing to my hip.
"It's great, thanks," I replied. "It's amazing, it looks better than what I ever imagined!"
"Glad to hear!" He smiled once again.
I took a deep breath and walked forwards slowly.
"Could you do me a favour please?" I asked.
"Sure!" he said again...still smiling
"Do you have any jobs going here? I used to own my own tattoo business before...erm...an unforeseen incident, and I'd like to carry on working as a skin-artist."
The smile suddenly disappeared and a serious look creeped across his face. He let out a loud, heavy sigh, slammed both hands down on the counter, and shook his head.
"Well, I can tell you straight from the look of ya', that I don't think you'd be cut out for holding the sissy's hand when he gets a piercing done! So that's why I'm gonna say yes, you may work for me, but you have to be a full-time tattooist, piercer, and my new work mate in this joint."
I hung my head and replied, "Oh, I see, well, I better go the...wait, di...di...did you just say I could WORK for you??"
"Welcome aboard!" he laughed, welcoming me with open arms.
I was shocked. To tell the truth, I was more than shocked, I was overwhelmed. I felt like a big balloon ready to burst; I didn't know what to say but wear a stupid grin on my face and stand there. Eventually, I managed to whisper, "Thank you, sir."
He pointed at me and replied, "Now, don't go giving me that shit, just 'cause you're new. The name's Tim, and that's it. God, the cheek of some these days," he laughed aloud, took hold of my hand, and then shook it vigorously.
I giggled, and added, "Yes sir...I...I mean Tim!"
Finally, I thought, I could start over once again, pick up from where I was. I had a funny tingling feeling in my left shoulder that this was going to be very, very good.
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