FORBIDDEN TATTOO

BY: RAE A. COSTA

10/02/2000

I was nineteen years old when I first felt the needle against my skin. For an instant it had been an overwhelming feeling – a mixture of pure joy and dangerous rebellion, of absolute freedom from society’s expectations and of true self-discovery. I was a thousand miles for my mother’s rule, sailing aboard The Midway, and giving the Unites States Navy my life.

We docked at Subic Bay on the morning of October 10^th. We were young and restless for shore leave. Our pockets were full of money and our heads full of stories told by the senior sailors. It seemed an eternity before we disembarked and felt land for the first time in months. We floated along the streets in our reckless euphoria, visiting every bar and strip club that existed. There were three of us, Kennon, Rob, and myself. All of us naïve and inexperienced in life. We were adults viewing the world through child eyes.

Our money left us quickly along with our senses. It was nearing three o’clock in the morning when we finally headed back toward the ship. Our pockets were empty, but our heads crammed with experiences that were worthy of being told over and over again without ever needing embellishment. In our haste to return before we passed out, we took a left instead of a right and ended up in a place that we had been instructed by our superiors to avoid.

The only light came from the moon and from the soft glow of candles inside the shanties lining the gravel road. Dark shadows loomed on both sides of the street and muted voices and sounds surrounded us. There were no street signs or taxi’s to return us to safety. We walked huddled together arguing softly about which way to go. Dogs barked as we passed hut after hut. Our nerves buzzed, but in our drunken stupor we did not realize the true horror of our situation. People like us did not enter into such neighborhoods and expect to emerge with new friends. I silently prayed that we would live to see the light of dawn.

Keenon, who’d been walking a step ahead, stopped so suddenly that I bumped into him. His face was normally the color of night and I could only see the whites of his eyes and teeth when he spoke, but now, he was as pale as my blonde little sister. His eyes were as huge as saucer plates and he looked ready to bolt at the slightest noise.

“What’s that?” He whispered. His Naval graduation ring reflected the moonlight as he pointed.

At first I couldn’t see through the murky darkness, but then I did and I too almost bolted blindly through the night. A huge dark blob with two blinking purple eyes wavered and swayed in front of us. We froze. We stood like statues in the middle of the street as shadows gathered to watch us. I knew we should turn around and flee, but the blinking eyes fascinated the hazy drunken part of me. I moved forward as if hypnotized.

Keenon clutched my sleeve. “What are you doing?” He nearly screamed.

I shrugged him off and continued on. With each step, candles inside the shanties were extinguished until I walked in utter blackness. My gaze never faltered from that of the blinking purple-eyed monster. I felt my friends fall into step behind me. Their nervous and hushed protests went unheeded. We were afraid, but too proud to admit it. Keenon held my shirttail like a child holding his mother’s apron strings.

I strode forward with chest puffed and head high ready to conquer the world, but really only to keep my fears at bay. When no boogiemen jumped out of the darkness and the monster raged no sudden attack, our steps became less tentative. As I neared, laughter shook my chest until I could contain it no more. It rattled and echoed loudly in the stillness. More shadows had emerged from the shanties to watch our arrival. Their laughter echoed ours, but only briefly, then deathly silence followed.

Behind a large tree swaying in the breeze were two purple neon lights flashing TATTOOS TATTOOS. Our scary monster was unveiled. We chuckled nervously to hide our embarrassment and fear. For me, surviving the night and gaining a tattoo to flaunt it seemed heroic. I imagined pulling open my shirt and showing those cocky senior sailors just how I had cheated Death.

Cobwebs clung stubbornly to the shadowy reaches of my mind. Had I been fully sober I would not have dared it, but there was no rationale left to argue against such an irresponsible act. I had survived the purple-eyed monster and I would survive this night! I was indestructible! And I was stupid.

“Shall we?” I offered moving toward the tattoo parlor’s door.

“Are you crazy?” Keenon and Rob protested in unison.

I paused as if to think a response to their absurd question. “Yes.” I replied. “Yes, I am.” I disappeared inside, leaving my friends to the night.

I was assaulted immediately by a strange and pungent odor. I thought I smelled fish, then burning hair, then black licorice incense tinged with vanilla. A tiny candle flickered near the door and I reached for it. Holding it with one hand and shielding the flame with the other, I moved deeper into the room. The smell was overpowering and I grew dizzy.

The walls were covered in tattoo ‘flash’. I reeled as images of all kinds pulsed and reached out for me. The room seemed alive with movement and sound. Demons squirmed on one wall, while dragons and snakes hissed above me. Jaws of skulls with knives plunged into their brains chattered incessantly, while flaming broken hearts shrieked. Babies in wombs moaned and naked women wiggled provocatively.

The smell was suffocating and I gasped for breath. Images pressed in, closer and closer. My heart thudded against my rib cage, threatening to break free and my pulse thundered in my ears. I dropped the candle and ran. Aliens and deformed faces with crippled limbs ripped at my clothing. Tiny lizards and cockroaches clung to my shoes. Butterflies and bats tangled in my hair, while flying insects slapped against my face.

I swatted and kicked and my fists cracked against disfigured bone. I screamed, but wasps flew into my open mouth, stinging and biting. My tongue swelled and red ants tumbled out my nose and burrowed into my face. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t breath. Then blackness.

Buzz. Buzz. My eyes flew open. I was reclining in a tattered leather chair with an old Filipino man leaning over me. Long, straggly gray hair hung limply over his face. Buzz. Buzz. I heard the needle before I felt it. Ink burned into my skin and I tried to push the needle away, but restraints held my hands. I arched my back, but the old man placed his hand on my chest. Buzz. Buzz. The needle continued to prick and burn. I was helpless.

Just as quickly as I felt the pain, it was over. The old man smiled a mouthful of rotted teeth and set the silent needle aside.

“It is done.” He said in broken English and released my hands. He held up a cracked mirror for me to see his work.

About three inches wide and running from the base of my collarbone to the vee between my nipples, a skeleton holding a knife was crouched as if ready to spring upon its victim. A tiny bullet hole in its forehead dripped blood onto the knife and its broken jaw hung loosely from one side. It was inked all in black except for the bright crimson blood.

I screamed in revulsion. “What have you done!?” But the old man only smiled and nodded. I shoved him aside and lurched toward the door. The flash now just harmless designs on the walls.

“You will stay.” He said, but I heaved open the door and stumbled outside.

Keenon and Rob huddled together near the purple-eyed monster, their eyes wide and fearful. “We heard screams.” Rob said. I pushed past them and headed away from the tattoo parlor.

The street was deserted. The shadows that had watched our arrival were gone. The blinking purple TATTOOS TATTOOS sign fell dark and the door lock clicked behind me. I still felt dizzy and bile rose in my throat. My chest itched and burned. Blood oozed from the tattoo and spotted my shirt. My friends and I hurried down the abandoned street with only the moon as our guide. Our shoulders bumped together as we kept vigilance on the shanties and surrounding shadows. We were completely sober and completely scared.

I held my hand to my chest to ease the burning. Suddenly, I felt a tremble beneath my skin, and then it was gone. I scratched, but the burning intensified. There it was again. A slight twinge and rippling sensation as if the skeleton was moving. I scratched frantically with both hands. More blood oozed and trickled down my stomach.

I smelled fish and hair and incense. I smelled burning flesh. It took me a moment before I realized it was my own. The bones were dancing. I tore away my shirt and grabbed at the skeleton. My nails clawed into my skin. I screamed in agony as burning flesh fell away in blobs. I ripped the skeleton from me and flung him to the ground. He tumbled once, and then crouched like he had been on my chest. I screamed again and again.

The tiny skeleton leapt over me and landed on Keenon’s shoulder. Keenon screamed in absolute terror as the tiny knife slashed at his face and neck. He twirled in circles swiping at the illusive aberration. He clung to Keenon’s shirt with one hand while stabbing with the other. Blood squirted in a long arc across the street hitting one of the shanties. I pushed Keenon to the ground and stomped at the skeleton dancing crazily around Keenon’s lifeless body.

Skeleton-man grabbed onto my pant leg while I kicked and shook trying to free myself of him. He scurried up my leg and I felt his knife drive deeply into my stomach and slash downward. The skeleton crawled inside my gaping wound and continued to hack at my intestines. I dropped to my knees and screamed. The skeleton emerged holding my liver over his head in victory. He took a bite then threw it to a pack of dogs whimpering in the shadows.

Rob stood dazed. In just an instant he had slipped over the edge of sanity and tumbled into the grips of lunacy. His empty eyes mirrored those of the skeleton.

“Run Rob! Run!” I croaked.

Dogs growled and yipped and the shadows swayed at the edge of the street, laughing and urging the skeleton to violence. “Run.” I whispered.

The skeleton skittered over to Rob and sneered. Its broken jaw clacked in unison with the laughter. Rob gazed down at it without truly seeing. His reality had left him. The skeleton took several steps back and then drove upon Rob with a ferocity that sent up a chorus of cheers from the spectators. The knife slashed and tore at Rob’s tender flesh. He opened his mouth to scream, but his terror never made it past his lips. In one swoosh the knife ripped him open from neck to navel, his guts spilling into the street.

The tattoo parlor door opened and the old Filipino man stepped outside. The skeleton ran towards him, its bony feet clicking against the gravel street. He paused as the old man nodded in approval, then scurried inside. The door closed and the two purple neon signs flashed on and off and on again, blinking and enticing the next sailor to experience a horror never imagined.

It was nearing three o’clock in the morning and the only light came from the moon and from the soft glow of candles inside the shanties lining the street. A group of sailors wandered through the darkness laughing loudly and pointing at the blinking purple-eyed monster.

With every step a candle inside a shanty was extinguished. As the sailors passed, I blew out the flame from my own candle and emerged from my shanty to watch their arrival.

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