Furious Fiction August edition has come and gone and this month I had a blast. This months prompts were as follows…
- Each story had to include, word for word, ALL of the following SIX descriptions:
COLD AND GREASY
SCRATCHED AND WEATHER-WORN
SWEET AND PUNGENT
- One of these six descriptions had to appear in the first sentence of each story.
And here is ‘Ink Immortal’ which may have been a little on the cheeky side…
The idea of being an ink-stained chick had always appealed, but I could never summon the courage, I never liked needles. Today that changed, I had ten minutes until my appointment and I shuffled around at the front of the shop steeling myself.
It was the perfect choice, everyone said they needed to be timeless, something you should be happy with forever. Rock stars never went out of fashion. I mean, the Rolling Stones were still getting around, weren’t they? My mind drifted to Rick, and I broke into a goofy grin, he was amazing, there was no way I would regret this.
I took a shuddery breath as I checked the time and pushed the door open. The place was a little dingy, but Sophie told me he didn’t ask for ID. I rang the bell and stood at the counter trying to peer around the curtain.
My first thought as he emerged was this guy looked the part. Intertwining designs covered him, a veritable collage in every hue, his head shaved to display tendrils drifting up into his hairline.
“You must be Jessica.” He smiled and held out a hand. “I’m Chris, we spoke over the phone.”
I nodded and wiped my brow with my sleeve — it was warm outside and I didn’t see an air-con anywhere. “Sorry, it’s my first time, I’m a little nervous.”
“Of course. Come through and I can talk you though the process.”
I followed him past the curtain and he waved me toward what looked like a dentist’s chair, scratched and weather-worn. I had already sent him pictures of what I wanted and he showed me a stencil he had prepared.
“It will be clearer once it’s on.”
I squinted, the text slanted, it was hard to make out. The design was classic — a simple ‘I heart Rick’ — I pointed to a spot on my shoulder blade. He nodded and explained how his gear worked.
The tattoo gun was shiny, silver, but to me it looked malevolent. I perched on the chair with my face pressed down and he smeared cold and greasy ointment on my skin.
“It will help the needle glide.”
I winced as I heard the gun start up, the sound shrill, piercing. I gritted my teeth as he started, tears stung at my eyes. The surrounding air was close, I could smell him, sweet and pungent.
It let up after what seemed an eternity, and he held a mirror up to my raw shoulder blade. I squinted then scrambled in my bag for my glasses. My brow began to bead with sweat, my hand trembled as I slid them on, surely I was seeing things. The design — the R looked like a D — It didn’t look like ‘I heart Rick’… Mum would kill me, how was I going to live with this?
The shortlisted Furious Fiction August entries can be found here. As always, I would encourage people to sign up and join me in next months comp.
Check out my July entry here