The Tattoo

• Belle Harvie, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2022

The needle pierced my skin again. I swallowed the screams that burned my throat. The tattooist flicked her indigo eyes in question, lifting the inking pen.
“I’m fine,” I muttered gruffly. “Just finish it.” She gently pressed the pen against my forearm as I looked away, hiding the dread that bubbled inside me. I never knew how low of a pain tolerance I had until the tattooist grazed her pen against my scarred skin. And the last two hours has been, the least to say, exhausting. I guess I was lucky it was a quiet day, due to the Summer Solstice; if I screamed, I wouldn’t have the whole town calling me a girl for the rest of my lonesome life.
“I’m going to grab more ink. Don’t break anything.” The indigo-eyed woman murmured, removing the ink pen and placing it down. She swung open the curtains for the tattooing chamber and strolled out. And I just lay there, waiting for her return.
I waited for her, and soon, waiting became annoying. How long does it take to get more ink? I didn't have all day for one tattoo. Frustration boiled under my skin.
“Hey, you still there, lady?” I blurted. And regretted it. The tattooist abruptly appeared.
“‘Lady?’ I’m no lady compared to a man with a low pain tolerance.” She squeezed the ink bottle. “I went to town. We ran out.” Then she muttered something about insufferable men. I didn't bother saying anything as she put the new ink into the pen and went back to work. Without warning. I hissed.
“Warning?!”
“No.” She murmured. I arched my back in pain, holding a breath. I guess I had it coming. “You here for the Summer Solstice?”
“No. Passing through.” I groaned.
“A traveller?” I nodded my reply. “Just like the legend…” I drew a blank face. I know the legends of every town. None were of a traveller.
“Legend?” I asked.
“Our people have said for over a millennia that a traveller will come here, to our little town, during the Summer Solstice and find their first lover.” ‘Not me then,’ I thought. Not me. “It’s weird, I know.”
“It’s not me though, la—”
“Jinni.” I blinked. Her name? “Yours?”
“West.” Silence.
“Your tat’s done.” She lifted her pen and stood. “It’ll be about forty gold coins and ten silver coins.” I rolled down my sleeve, stood and handed over the payment. I almost walked out the door, but Jinni grabbed my arm. “Why the tattoo?” I knew she’d ask. Jinni; the curious tattooist. I sighed. Great, here comes an immense amount of questions.
“It was the day I was cursed to be eternally unloved.” Jinni slowly let my arm go, her face painted with horror and…sympathy?
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well, it’s true.” Jinni just stared at me as she lifted her shirt. Revealing a large tattoo that lay on her lower abdomen. A tattoo of ‘8 May 1490’.