Tattoos

• Mikayla Parker, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2015

From the day we were born, we have had 2 dates tattooed into our arms, one is the day we were born and the other indicating the day we leave this earth for good. My older twin brothers’ date was 3 months ago, 3 months ago they left us for a better place. My parents were gone not long after I was born. Apparently its a sight to see. Death that is. Sparks and Dust, what was once our body turns into a substance that will leave this world and appear in a better one, one that is described as heaven.

My ‘date’ was supposed to end yesterday, but here I am, still breathing, defiantly not dead. The weird thing is that the numbers are fading. I can’t ask anyone about it, I cant show anyone. I’m terrified to know what would happen if anyone found out. So I am about to fake my death. I will run away, find a new place to call my home.

Legend says that there are others like us out there, that don't have natural tattoos, they live every moment of their lives not knowing when they will die, if its tomorrow, next month or in years to come. My plan is to find them, find the people who I am now like, who I belong with.

Chills are racing up my spine as I approach the boundary. I don't look back incase it looks suspicious, I need it to look like it was fate. The buzz of the boundary line is imprinting in my mind, making it hard to remember the plan that I fabricated. One more step, is all it will take.

“Hey” I hear someone call out. “Stop!…. wait” he puffs as he draws nearer. Its now or never.

I put one foot over the boundary, my heart starts racing. Quickly, I tell myself. But its too late, he grabs my arm, tingles erupt through my body. With the momentum of his body against mine, we both spill into the darkness of the exiled land. My plan starts working, the trip wire I had hooked up triggers. Sparks and dust appear in the air, making it look like I have died and I am disappearing.

The boy still has my arm as he drags me into the sheltering trees out of view from the others.
I don't glance back, I know that they saw, I know that they wont come and look, they never do. I look up to see the boy looking at me.

“Why did you do that?” he asks quietly.

I stay quite, he still hasn't let go of my arm, I look at where my tattoo is in hopes that he hasn't seen, but that was my second mistake. He looks closer.

“Where is you tattoo?” he pries, “wait” he looks closer to see the faint markings. “Yesterday?” he asks.

“Yeah”, I look down “Yesterday” I say.

“Mine too!” he points out whilst rolling up his sleeve.