The man limped as he entered Skin Arts tattoo parlor. Hector only noticed because the shop was empty that early in the afternoon. Men didn’t generally come in wearing a suit and tie. He flipped his magazine closed, stuffed it under the counter, and yawned into his hand.
The man’s face didn’t move for a few moments — long enough that Hector thought of a mask, not a flesh and blood face. Then his eye twitched, a small movement, just a flicker.
“I’d like a tattoo,” the man said in a steady, calm voice. A banker’s voice, Hector thought. The man reached into his suit coat and produced a folded bit of paper, worn and slightly yellowed. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I need to know if you can do it.”
The look on this man’s face — the steady blue eyes and clean skin — made Hector feel dirty, gave him the sensation that he should scrub his own tattoos with steel wool until he scratched through the dermis and peeled away the pigment. What did he want with a tattoo? Hector took the paper and unfolded it slowly. From the stains and softness of the paper, many other hands had done the same.
Three letters: E.G.M. The font was wide, plenty of black ink if the man wanted a fill.
“Any color?”
The man shook his head. “No. Just the letters on my leg, in black.”
Hector quoted a price, and the man seated himself in one of the chairs. Such a simple job would take less than an hour, and the man hadn’t even haggled when Hector boosted the price for the fill. He gathered the works, his needles, the iron, and laid them out next to the chair.
“You can either roll up, or drop the pants completely.”
The man nodded, and his fingers tugged at the cuff on his pants, revealing a prosthetic leg.
Hector gawked. Was this a joke?
“Is there a problem?” The man’s voice was smooth, not the least agitated or upset.
Hector’s head swung slowly from side to side. “I… I don’t think… ” He stood from his stool, nearly toppling his tools. “I can’t ink a fake leg, buddy.”
The man frowned, the first time he had shown any emotion on his mask-face. “I see.”
Guilt boiled in Hector’s stomach — he couldn’t explain why, but the man hung his head and looked so disappointed. “I’m not trying to… y’know, dis’ you or nothin’.”
“I can find someone else who can.” The man shrugged and started to pull down the pant leg but stopped mid-calf. His eyes locked with Hector’s. “I assure you this isn’t a joke. I’ll double the price.”
“Look, I can’t promise anything.” Hector’s head swam with the promise of twice the fee.
“Will you do it then?”
A pause — time crawled at a snail’s sprint. Hector nodded. His brain screamed no, but his fingers felt the money. Hector quickly traced the letters on the prosthetic leg before he decided otherwise. Count the cash, he told himself, who cares if this guy is a nut job. He opened a fresh needle package, and clicked on the gun. The machine buzzed. His forehead started to sweat and he brushed away a few stray beads with the back of his hand. With a deep breath, he pressed the rapidly vibrating needle against the smooth artificial leg, and it gave like flesh. Hector jerked the needle away.
“Is everything okay?” The man’s voice sounded distant — not in pain, but something else.
“Fine — fine. Just getting a feel for…” Hector waved the gun toward the leg. He pressed in again, and started making the first line of the E. A tiny bead of blood trickled from the dark mark — more than Hector was used to seeing from real flesh. His eyes glanced away to the man’s face; the mask didn’t break. Hector swallowed the bile that burped into his mouth, and resumed work. Perspiration continued to work its way across his face — he hadn’t sweat as much since his first job.
“The initials, someone close?” Hector asked. He wanted to fill the room with something other than the buzz of the machine. No money is worth this, he thought.
“No.”
Something in the man’s tone made Hector wish he hadn’t asked.
“Ellen,” the man said. “Her name was Ellen, and she was seventeen.”
Hector blotted his forehead with the back of his left arm. He stopped momentarily and soaked up a little blood with a gauze pad. When his fingers touched the prosthetic, it was smooth and plastic.
“She was driving the other car.”
Hector leaned back from the tattoo; the E was done as was half of the G. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Can you finish? No one else was willing to do this. I’ve tried most shops in the city.”
The parlor was silent save for the buzz of the tattoo gun for a few, long moments. Finally, Hector rubbed his face and nodded.
“Good,” the man said. “There will be more blood — but I want you to finish, no matter how much pain I’m in, no matter how much I ask you to stop.”
With a deep breath, Hector bent forward and pressed the needle into the artificial leg and tried to focus on the ink through blurred vision.
Aaron Polson is a high school English teacher and freelance writer. He currently resides in Lawrence, Kansas with his wife, two sons, and a tattooed rabbit. His short fiction has appeared in various places, including Reflection’s Edge, GlassFire Magazine, Big Pulp, Johnny America, and Permuted Press’ Monstrous anthology.You can visit him on the web at www.aaronpolson.com.
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July 8th, 2009 at 1:24 am
And? Then what? Enjoyed the story and it was well written, with intriguing characters, but VERY unsatisfactory ending. Did you get bored, Aaron?
July 8th, 2009 at 2:10 am
Must agree with Lucy. I was just getting into this and then ……
July 8th, 2009 at 3:35 am
This story is huge. I loved the way it ended almost leaving the reader gasping; maybe it’s the first chapter of something bigger…
July 8th, 2009 at 4:40 am
Loved it. This is the first story I’ve read here I liked enough to leave a comment. Unless I’m under the wrong impression and the man did not cause the accident that killed Ellen, the ending was perfect.
July 8th, 2009 at 4:56 am
Too much left hanging. A plastic leg that bleeds? The man admonishing him to keep going no matter how much he asks him to stop, even though he hasn’t flinched nor shown any emotion? There’s a creepy vibe here, but it’s not well developed enough for the reader to know if it’s well-executed urban horror or accidental.
July 8th, 2009 at 5:43 am
I agree. This is fantastic, but I need to know more–much more!
July 8th, 2009 at 6:08 am
I think the entire story is here. My mind has raced with the thoughts how to finish this and I can only think of one way it does end. It is a very sweet piece.
July 8th, 2009 at 6:15 am
“Hector thought of a mask, not a flesh and blood face.” Could it be something about the smoothness of the skin makes people, including Hector, think falsely that the skin is artificial, the leg is added/attached to the body and not an integral part? Could it be that the leg was real all along but unrecognized as such because people were caused to expect dirtiness as reality?
Stories as puzzles are not my favorite kind of stories, but if I read one, I do like to learn the answers. Maybe there are some very few writers who are just searching for compliments, but does anyone have suggestions for analysis regarding understanding a story to assist readers (and sometimes writers)?
July 8th, 2009 at 6:28 am
Amazing story, Aaron. I LOVE the way it ended. (if movies can get away with endings like this, why can’t stories???)
July 8th, 2009 at 7:01 am
At first read I was wondering why the story ended so abruptly. Then I got to thinking about his accident, killing 3 people, his face is a mask and seemingly, the only “real” thing about him that bleeds is the leg he lost in the accident. It seems the tattooing is a sort of “self-flagellation.” I thought it was a great and thought-provoking story.
July 8th, 2009 at 7:39 am
What can I say? A real “grabber.” A prosthetic leg that bleeds, strange, but that seems to be part of the appeal. Five needles!
July 8th, 2009 at 7:41 am
A good story. It’s touching to see that he would tatoo the initals of the girl he killed into his leg so that he wouldn’t forget her.
July 8th, 2009 at 8:11 am
Nowhere in the story does it say anyone died. It mentions the initials are those of someone else, “She was driving the other car.” Is it about voodoo and sticking needles in one flesh to pain some other flesh or brand the other distant flesh with initials? The story also doesn’t say the initials were hers; just that they had connection with her, Ellen, the other flesh.
July 8th, 2009 at 8:13 am
Hard, sad, and resonant. Loved it.
July 8th, 2009 at 8:32 am
Now, the author could easily come into the commentaries, and tell us that indeed he had it in mind that the man killed several people in a car accident, and wants to atone by making Hector sick also. Then we all could lean back relieved that the author has removed the tension by solving the puzzle for us in an absolutely definitive way. The solution requires the personal entrance of the writer to resolve it, since the answer is not specifically written into the story. This proves that stories need writers to bring them to solution since writers are the unquestionable authorities regarding what they meant to say. Now, this is harder to fathom –stories (if there’s still a world out there) also need readers to read them.
July 8th, 2009 at 8:39 am
Painful to read. Heart touching. Grabs the emotions.
July 8th, 2009 at 8:47 am
@Roberta – every reader will bring a different viewpoint to the same piece of work. The enjoyment in the reading is to see what a piece can mean to you as the reader, and that doesn’t take the writer to come aboard and tell in detail what he meant.
July 8th, 2009 at 9:09 am
I keep thinking about this one. For a while, I was thinking that maybe Aaron should have *ended* it with the revelation about the initials. But then I realized that’s completely wrong. That’d be some “Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark” garbage. The story’s not about the accident; it’s about choosing to live with the pain. It ends just right. Solid stuff.
July 8th, 2009 at 9:55 am
Hummmm. A well dressed professional kills someone in a car wreck and wants to suffer so he has someone tattoo his prosthetic leg . . . Sort of a ‘Seven Pounds’-meets-’The Twilight Zone’ piece.
I must say that I was favorably impressed by the writing. Everything was well crafted to draw the reader into the story and wonder what the heck was going on. I was thinking, ‘Ah, something eerie and creative’– and then the bubble popped. Poof. Just nothing. No explanation and an erroneous comment about ‘not stopping no matter how much I ask you to stop. If he wasn’t reacting with the job 1/2 done, why would he be in pain at the end? The only one seemingly in distress was the inker.
Anyway, the build-up showed real talent and I enjoyed the piece right up to the very end.
July 8th, 2009 at 10:15 am
Oh my! Gorgeous, surreal, you make me think – I like.
July 8th, 2009 at 11:12 am
I was loving this piece until the last paragraph. Great, creepy vibe, but I really think the reader needs a little more explanation at the end. As people have said–why does the plastic leg bleed, why might the guy start reacting, etc.
July 8th, 2009 at 11:49 am
The prosthetic leg part confused me. I had to go back to read and make sure the Banker wasn’t having the stump tatooed or something that would logically bleed. The most confusing part was the total lack of reaction from Hector. A guy’s prosthetic leg starts to bleed and your “normal” character doesn’t have anything more than a little acid reflux? I had a hard time with that.
I don’t doubt for a moment that the Banker killed Ellen. I thought it was hinted at it (yellowed paper) and you may have even tried to use it, but maybe her initials could have been written on the back of a newspaper photo of the wreck.
My only “writing comment” is concerns the paragraph that starts with “The look on this man’s face — the steady blue eyes and clean skin — made Hector feel dirty…” It only occured to me that this was odd in light of the fact that the Banker is the one who is clearly “soiled” from this terrible incident. Is his self-inflicted suffering so noble that it actually elevates him? Eh…too deep for my pea brain, but something that I mulled over.
In any case, good writing, good story; the “mood” as somebody else pointed out is well constructed.
–John
July 8th, 2009 at 11:51 am
Way to grab us reader/writers. You got us seeing it; leaving it open and letting us come to our own conclusions. And the best part, we want more. Fantastic job.
July 8th, 2009 at 12:00 pm
It starts out by engaging the reader but then I thought that its too vague and ambiguous. This story does not have enough information in order to answer any questions. Definitely a cop out. Like bob says, why would the man’s prosthetic leg bleed? Not only does it not make sense, there is no significance to it. “no matter how much pain I’m in…” I got the vibe that he felt no pain at all.
This isn’t even a story…
July 8th, 2009 at 2:25 pm
I really liked this. Too bad you forgot the second page.
July 8th, 2009 at 3:43 pm
An enjoyable, creepy read. Well done.
July 8th, 2009 at 3:56 pm
LOVED it : )
July 8th, 2009 at 4:39 pm
I liked it, but I still would like more – it’s creepy and full of tension, but I think it has the potential to really horrify people if just a little more was put out there.
July 8th, 2009 at 4:56 pm
This story really grabbed me. You’ve really got an original idea but it left me wanting more, an explanation. I think that’s a good thing, just not sure whether or not it’d be better if it was explained.
July 9th, 2009 at 7:17 am
[...] INKED – by Aaron Polson (everydayfiction.com) var uri = ‘http://impgb.tradedoubler.com/imp?type(img)g(16606726)a(1667511)’ + new String (Math.random()).substring (2, 11); document.write(”); Share and Enjoy: These icons link to social bookmarking sites where readers can share and discover new web pages. [...]
July 9th, 2009 at 10:29 am
Extraordinary and tight. An awesome example of the wonders a story can work when our brain has to work harder for a better reward. You manage to paint an entire story by capturing a moment in just the right way. Well done, Aaron!
July 9th, 2009 at 12:44 pm
Aaron, amazing story. Very gripping, even the ending. I love it when the reader is allowed to use their own imagination – if they have it – to finish off a story in their mind.
It’s perfect.
July 10th, 2009 at 7:16 am
Like many here, I also loved this story up until the end. I like stories that tie up loose ends–but I also like stories that leave loose ends and make the reader wonder. The loose ends left here, however, aren’t making me wonder; they are making me feel confused, almost cheated. If I am left to wonder ‘what next,’ that’s great–it means that I feel involved enough in the story to want to imagine a next chapter, so to speak. But if I am left to wonder ‘what is actually going on here,’ that’s when my confusion ramps up, and I get ticked off. Oh well.
July 10th, 2009 at 8:42 am
At the risk of raising hackles, I have to wonder what, exactly, is supposed to happen “next.”
The man gets a tatoo to remind him of the woman he killed in a car wreck (killed, maimed, injured, take your pick). His internal suffering is so acute that his prosthetic leg feels pain and bleeds. He gets his tatoo and leaves. That’s the story. While the story is told through Hector’s POV, I don’t think Hector is the story. It’s this guy and the unusual thing going on with his leg. After he gets his tatoo, it is over.
Could we follow him out the door and see what happens next? Sure. We could see how this whole experience makes Hector into a devout Christian–he’s seen a miracle!–and he closes up the tatoo parlor and becomes a monk. Heck, I don’t know, it could go anywhere. But you could stretch any story that doesn’t end with the main character pushing up daisies. The story is about this moment, this strange, supernatural moment and then it’s over. It’s flash fiction. Sometimes that’s all you get.
–John
July 10th, 2009 at 10:00 am
J.C. – I think you found the perfect ending for this smorgasbord of absurdities. Although it doesn’t answer the other questions, it rounds it out the string of “what-in-the-worlds?” with a funny flurry and an “I’m getting out of here!”
This would make a good short whatchama-callit silent film with sound.
July 10th, 2009 at 10:07 am
J.C. – I think I just remembered the whatchama-callit. Wasn’t it Mike Sennet film?
July 11th, 2009 at 12:24 am
A great, weird story from start to finish.
For me, I enjoy flash stories that don’t have a definite ending but leaves this reader wondering.