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TATS

Evil Ink

I am a canvas of souls with stories untold – cerulean swirls of color and others too, etched in my skin… to live again.

Behind every tattoo,

There’s a mystery

Behind every mystery,

A drama unfolds.

Behind every drama

Life presents itself.

What would you do

If you

went inside a tattoo…

PROLOGUE

My names Adam, Adam McMicheaux, the last names a tongue twister and derives from my family’s Creole descent. For the most part, I’m a good guy, quick-witted, funny and kind of good looking… I’m a college student, mid-twenties and creative writing is my major.

I’m compelled to share my story with you, journaling my life out loud and exposing myself to the world. But, I’m going do my best to convey it to you as it unfolds from my memory. But please note this occurrence I experienced is a lot to take in, it’s fascinating and bizarre… but most of all, amazing as shit.

Something’s gliding through the woods and I hear it – it belongs here, the thing familiar with space… it’s the wind. I’m shivering through this intense breeze, freezing my ass off. My mind is blank and I can’t think for shit! Get it together, get it together I tell myself, but the winds have an ominous feel, frightening even. I’m anxious about being here and I just want to be somewhere safe, so I tap into my last real memory… Nana’s house and I go there.

Nana’s my mother’s, mother. I’m in her guest bathroom with an overwhelming sense of sadness and it dawns on me, momma’s no longer here! She was in a fatal car accident and I’m actually here for her funeral. I check my reflection in the mirror, fumble with my tie and my eyes fill with crocodile tears and linger on my eye lids. A huge sink holes in my heart and a great big lumps in my throat, I guess you could call this an anxiety attack.

There’s a knock on the door and it’s my father. Dad’s in his mid-forties, a deeply intense man, mildly handsome, I guess it’s where I get my good looks from, but he’s also extremely stubborn.

He calls out to me and enters. When I turn to him, my tears pour out. Dad streams a river, too and we hold tight. Fatherly duties kick in and he helps me with my tie. He say’s, “Come on my boy your grandmother fixed a wonderful breakfast and you need to eat, we have a big day ahead… momma’s awaiting our last visit.”

“Alright dad, I’ll be right down.”

Still in the moment, dad clutches my shoulders. “One day you’ll experience love… a wife, a life and all that in between.” His head drops into an abyss and rises slowly, “A soul mate.”

Dad and I really have a strained relationship that goes back a few of years now, but I feel bad for him, he’s all torn up and me, too for that matter. I think about my parents together and try an cheer him up. I turn into my ole jovial self, “I compare all my women to momma. Must be cute, smart and funny with beautiful eyes! Look right here dad.” I tap the inside of my shoulder. “I’m a get a tat, it’s gonna have angelic wings with Ma’s name on it.”

“That sounds good son. Now get yourself together, we leave for home after services and it’s going to be a long drive.” He inhales defeat and exhales strength. He straightens and exits the bathroom.

I finish getting dressed, splash on some cologne for momma and head downstairs. Dad, nana and papa sit in the belly of nana’s massive country kitchen drinking coffee. Nana jumps up and hugs me and I’m overwhelmed again.

“LET’S EAT DAMMIT! It’s gonna be alright!” Papa’s enormous voice blares out and startles a fart out of me… tickles the manners out of everybody. We partake in nana’s wonderful breakfast and share momma memories. And with that, we start out for momma’s service. Our small talk heads out the door and as soon as I step on the porch, I’m snatched from the memory. No more nana’s house… capoof, gone. I’m back in the ominous woods with the wind howls.

Engulfed in this new dimension, I’m in another realm. It’s like me and my spirit are split but one, standing back to back – me in this world and my spirit in another. My eyes snap open to the rustling of trees and I realize this is not a dream.

I’m perched on an open ridge that flares out to blue skies. Dawn-dappled light seeps through crepuscular rays, hazy but bright and ripples through the landscape.

You know it’s impossible to see the wind, but I’m lookin right at it. Its a blur at first, but then images begin to sharpen. Outlines of silhouettes, I guess you could say apparitions. They blanket the sky.

Millions of the em’ move with natural motions of velocities, with atmospheric circulation beyond imagination… I actually studied weather last year and this is exactly what I studied about wind.

The silhouettes breeze through leaves, one right after the other, swaying trees the same way you see when there’s wind there. They hurl themselves through the sky, some do acrobatics. Some linger in place twirling, mimicking tornado like occurrences.

Their faces aren’t quite visible, but the form is there. While some give off an angelic presence, others are ambiguous. No color, just silhouettes… and it’s BAD ASS for real!

Silhouettes swirl around me, one shoots straight through me, whoosh, leaving an eerie and violent presence, both beautiful and mesmerizing.

Another silhouette breezes by dragging its finger across my eyeball, a tear, wet and thick follows and rolls down my cheek.

They continue flirting with me, tossing my hair and lay hands on my face, whistling with their lips perched, wheeew, wheeew, the true source of the wind.

Oh my goodness, a big one, it’s headed straight for me… Ew SHIT! He embraces, clutches me in a body hug and I feel the cold come off its spirit, it chills me to the bone. He whispers in my ear filling me with a knowledge and explanation of how this is possible.

“Our spirits are free to roam the earth, to be a part of the living… always. You know us as currents of air, better known as wind. Some of us are angry we’re no longer here and at times we are what hurricanes and tornadoes are made of.” He says this, talking in anagrams and his breath smells like dookie, but I easily flip his anagrams like a second language, “The Eyes” flipped, spells “They See.” They all see me, just like I see them.

Then other strange and menacing voices shout at me, “A rope ends it.” This actually flipped is “desperation.” Hmm… “A rope ends it.” Did they just suggest I hang myself?

More apparitions join the melee and they’re intensely vocal and come from everywhere, all taunting and talking at once by the thousands, and unfortunately for me, I can hear and understand them all, and NOW… I’m intimidated by their existence.

Somehow I feel my father’s hands sandwiched in between my arms, but I can’t see him. His voice is barely audible, faint in the distance, but urgent, “Adaaaaaam… Adam!”

This triggers a sense of urgency in the spirits as well. Their mouths move quickly, they whisper loudly amongst one another. And as if coming to some type of conclusion, their lips perch, cheeks puffed and they blow out, whew, whew eeeeeeew… a deep whistling, eerie as fuck. In an instant, it turns to a piercing howl, an ear-splitting cry! It’s loud as shit and on the verge of busting my eardrums.

I crouch over, grab my ears. The pain is excruciating... and then, the silhouettes stampede inside my body at what seems 1,000 mph, schwoop schwoop… diving inside me from all angles, schwoop, schwoop, schwoop… I’m riddled by impact and straighten as each one enters, like they’re building my character or something! OMG, it’s getting more terrifying by the second, good ones, bad ones, evil ones - I feel their spirits, like I feel my own!

My thoughts gather, my mind thrust back to replay. All the events that occurred up to this point… driving, looking at my dad, a beautiful face, a WOMAN and my memory floods back to me and then I hear my dad again, “Adaaaaaam!” The last of the silhouettes schwoop inside me, schwoop, schwoop, schwoop!

And I stand tall... buck-naked... in the middle of the woods... completely tattooed.

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