“The Tattoo” by Theresa Jacobs
Carson peeled the tape slowly from his skin, thankful his arm had been shaved, it was bad enough that the freshly etched tattoo was still throbbing. Letting the wrap drop to the floor he inspected his forearm. As promised the artwork was immaculate. Every line perfection. It even appeared 3D. He turned his arm checking each minute detail of the demon face.
Wanting to view it right side up, Carson moved to a mirror. The tattoo was rendered in shades of red, and he marveled at the reality of it. The tongue snaked out appearing to lick away from his flesh. The piercing, deep eyes, followed his every movement.
Carson leaned in closer, “Holy shit that guy’s a genius.”
“What?”
Carson jumped at Marshall’s voice, and laughed as he stared into the mirror, “I was talking to myself! Come see this.”
He heard grumbling, followed by heavy footfalls, then Marshall appeared in the mirror behind him.
“What man?”
Carson turned holding his arm out to his roommate, “Check out the tat.” He spun his arm left and right. “Cool, huh?”
Marshall grabbed his wrist for a better look. “Whoa, dude that’s the bomb! Creepy though. It’s so lifelike,” Marshall blinked, dropping Carson’s wrist he visibly shuddered taking a step back.
“Amazing, right?” Carson resumed staring at the demon.
“Uh, yeah,” Marshall backed away. “Let’s go play WOW. Jamie and Brian are on their way over.”
Carson nodded still staring at his tattoo, “Sure, okay. I’ll be right there.”
~~
It was another typical Friday night at the dorms – except for Carson’s new body art. As the hours passed, Carson had to fight the urge to rub at the tattoo. It continued to burn and throb, even while he was engrossed in the game, and his mind kept being drawn to it.
After a couple of annoying hours, he put down his controller and said, “I’m not feeling so hot guys. I’m going to go lay down for a bit.”
Popping a couple of aspirin, he ignored their childish taunting as he lay on his bed in the dark. Surprisingly he began to drift off even with all their earsplitting noise.
Enveloped in darkness, Carson’s left arm moved a couple of inches and a deep voice whispered, “Kill them.”
Carson moaned and turned onto his left side, sliding his arm under his head.
The voice came again, louder, “Kill them!”
Carson’s eyes popped open.
He was face to face with the demon tattoo. The flesh on his arm was stretched painfully taut as the demon’s skull protruded six inches above his arm. Claws had developed where there were none before. Elongated crimson nails dug into his forearm. He screamed, flinging his own arm away from his face, scrambling out of the bed as the demon tattoo bore its fingers deeper into his skin.
“Kill them all,” the hoarse voice rang through Carson’s head.
He tripped over piles of clothes on his floor, slapping the light switch on bringing blessed light to the dark room. “Wha’s happening?” he cried out.
The lights only made the situation worse. The demon growled, its eyes locked into Carson’s as it pulled itself further into form.
“Help me!” Carson screamed, tumbling out of his room and into the living room.
His breath caught at the new sights.
Coagulating, sickly blood was splattered on every surface. It dripped from the ceiling, and bathed the TV, which was still playing world of warcraft in the background. On the couch were the bodies of his three friends, or he would assume they were his friends, as not one of them had a head.
The skin on his hand pulled back so fiercely that he felt the tendons in his fingers snapping off. With a piercing cry, Carson looked down to see the demon out past its shoulders. His flesh was forming the demons developing body.
“NO!” he screamed, as his gaze wildly searched for a weapon. Spotting a butcher knife lying in a pool of blood on the coffee table, he pushed past the rotting bodies of his friends to grab it.
The demon laughed as it brought one foot up out of its unseen realm and hooked more claws into Carson skin. “TOO LATE CARSON!”
“You die now!” Carson growled plunging the knife into the tattooed face on his arm.
The pain was excruciating, but he didn’t stop. He hacked at his own arm until it severed completely and fell mutilated to the carpet.
Dropping the knife, Carson tumbled exhausted to the floor. His eyes came to rest on his friend’s heads, all in a neat row under the couch and he wept.
The fingers on his disembodied arm twitched.
Carson screamed in terror.
That was his first, and last, tattoo.
[bctt tweet=”OCTOBER TERROR 2018 Short Story Award – Entry #2 ‘The Tattoo’ by Theresa Jacobs @writerTheresaJ – Enjoy all this terrific, disturbing material you have in your hands, lots of horror stories at your disposal for your dark delight and vote! ” username=”theboldmom”]
On October 23rd we’ll close submissions and open a poll for the readers to choose their favourite one! You’ll have a week to make your choice and on October 31st we’ll announce the winner!!!
