The needle poked my skin at awkward angles and I tried my best to hide my discomfort; trying to keep my arm still. The artist was pretty quiet, minus their sighs and mutterings every now and again. The music that played in the background was music I had never heard, but sounded pretty "country" like. I contorted my face as it hit a sensitive spot on a scar. "Scars, what funny things," the tattoo artist spoke in a wise-sounding voice. I earned the scar from a brawl I stepped into to separate back in the day; and I wish I never did. My no-brained actions always caused me to earn unnecessary scars; I always acted upon my feelings. The cold tip pressed against my should blade and on instinct my arm flew around, the back of my hand connecting solidly with the gorgeous face of the artist. "Fuck..." I muttered before I continuously apologized.
CITEȘTI
Short Stories
Proză scurtăAlmost 200 short stories to get your blood pumping, your skin crawling and your mind racing. Nostalgic, interesting, current, real-life experiences in a creative form. *disclaimer: some of these short pieces reference issues such as mental illness...
