Zana

The Tattoo Parlour

Hail hammered down, beating furiously on the old iron rooftop.

A corroded drum.

Part of a winter orchestra.

Made up of whiny violin walls and chirpy triangle windows.

Inside the tiny tattoo parlour, a needle sang, hitting the high notes.

A violet and green baroque composition.

Skilfully conducted by slender fingers.

Another masterpiece.

By Angelique.

Velvet drank whisky and watched as the buzzing needle pierced Miss Fly's pale skin.

She looked up and mimed something with her eyes.

Pain?

Pleasure?

Both were expressed.

Silent words escaping quiet lips.

He loved this intricate creature with the looks to die for.

A thorny thief of a girl.

Like an exotic, long stem black rose.

That grows wild.

Stealing hearts as quickly as she plundered dockyards.

Miss Fly possessed the killer combination of stealth and sexuality.

Her delicate black lace bra straps lay unhinged.

Like their owner.

The bruised face of a sultry temptress was slowly taking shape.

A boxing Helena tattoo.

Inked up against the ropes.

The hail stopped.

As suddenly as it had started.

Outside a truck backfired.

Twice.

Its growling engine shook the night relentlessly.

A rabid wolf.

Hunched over its kill.

Snarling.

Velvet knew what was coming.

The heavy wooden front door of the tattoo parlour swung open.

Framing a frenzied Gamma.

Who stood cradling a limp, mud streaked body of a broken and battered young woman in her arms.

Miss Fly leapt up from the table.

Her shoulder pinpricked, minuscule droplets of blood mixed with vibrant colour.

She ran over to Gamma.

Together they carried the muttering road kill inside and placed her on tattoo table.

Velvet softly brushed a matted strand of wet hair away from the young woman's scratched and bleeding face.

She was delirious.

Her trembling voice was shrouded in a heavy accent.

Eastern European?

Perhaps.

"I am stuck in my body. Help me", she repeated over and over again.

Around her neck hung a dented heart shaped locket.

He turned it over.

Feeling the chill of cheap metal.

The thrill of fake gold.

Inscribed in a spidery scrawl were written the words-

To Zana, love always, Father x

Bang!

Miss Dali took a heavy swig from the freshly popped bottle of La Malice.

And giggled uncontrollably while she drank.

Spilling liquid mischief down her chin.

Angelique put down the tattoo needle and snatched the champagne bottle from her hand.

Gamma turned and catlike with claws extended, pounced.

Landing onto Miss Fly's naked shoulders.

"Happy New Year everyone!" She roared.

Waking them from a living nightmare.

Where a strange girl now slept.

Tossing and turning.

In the tiny tattoo parlour.

Amsterdam.

January 1st.

2000.