Gone But Never Forgotten Tattoos Novels & Stories

I ask him. " On my back. And it says the heart can be darker too. And free drugs. I was seventeen then." He says and I smile. " Second?" " Omertà." He answers. " You know I actually thought that was supposed to be your first tattoo." " Nah. My dad never wanted me to have that in case I decided to leave the mob." He says. " And what does the Arabic tattoo mean? And why Arabic?" I ask. " I like them and the language. And the meaning; It means 'my soul is darker than night'. The other one is 'angels don't die'."

I never expected to see Sean again, and certainly not at my personal fashion exhibition. He had lost a lot of weight, and his presence was worn down. When our eyes met, there was a strange look on his face, something between a laugh and a sob. It was almost absurd. By then, though, my heart had fully healed. I could once again stand beneath the spotlight and speak to the audience, with poise and confidence that had always been mine. I had already climbed out of the lowest point of my life. So, I named this exhibition “Rebirth”, a celebration not just of my work, but of my own revival.

I couldn’t falter; I wouldn’t let him bleed out on my floor, not when every heartbeat felt like a silent plea for survival. I settled onto the cold linoleum, my heart pounding as I locked my gaze on his battered body. Every inch of him told a story, each tattoo a chapter of pain and survival. The bold double DD letters sprawled across his knuckles caught my eye first, a stark contrast against the bruises and blood. A tree, strong yet fragile, adorned his left forearm, whispering secrets of resilience, while the wave-like patterns on his ribcage danced dangerously close to his deep, ragged wound. But it was the quote etched on his right forearm that pulled at my heartstrings, resonating with

I'm sure that's the main reason why her boss respect and trust her intelligence. Blake noticed a strange tattoo at the back of the patient's neck while she was treating him and what baffles her is the fact that she has seen the same tattoo at the back of her father's neck before he died.The cause of his death is still unknown to everyone.The tattoo is the inscription of two blood axes crossing each other with a Greek word written beneath it.She can't speak Greek so she was unable understand what was written under the axes.She wanted to snub it but the thought of her father having the same tattoo before he died made her change her mind.She snapped it and decided to get the meaning of it from

I answer with a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something that would upset you,” he says contritely. I overlap his hand and turn my head giving him a soft kiss that he reflexively returns, “You have nothing to apologise for. It’s actually nice talking about them and remembering them. I got this tattoo, so I’d never forget them, and yet at the same time I try not to think about them and what I did to them. I guess I feel as though I don’t have the right to remember them and reminisce on my past. I took it so for granted and hated so much, and yet looking back all I can think of are happy memories and how lucky I was,” I say mournfully.

These two people have always been so kind to me, I cannot deny them anything. “Ask away.” His shoulders relax instantly, and they both smile kindly at me. “I noticed the beautiful tattoo on your back the other night. Can I ask if there is a special meaning for it?” I smile sadly, thinking of my tattoo. Before I met Grant, I would not even have considered telling them about it, but now, since I have already shared my story once I feel comfortable sharing it with these two, kind people. “Well, I got it done as a memorial of sorts. To remember my dad.”

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.

He reached for his t-shirt and pulled it over his head in one pull, every thought in my head instantly vanished, his back was turned to me, showing me the tattoo that covered almost the entirety of his back, a few scars here and there but damn, seeing his muscles flex was enough to make me dripping wet. I stared at his lower back, his thin waist that spread into an angular shape to his shoulder blade. My hands moved towards his back before I thought otherwise. I trailed from down to the upper part, following the pattern of the dragon. He went still under my touch. “When did you get this?” I asked absentmindedly. “Sixteen.” He paused. “After my mother died.” My hands stopped moving. I looked

"Morning, Naomi, Celeste." "Good morning, Mr. James. Is this for me?" Celeste rubbed the fuzzy bear, unable to stop touching it. "Of course. There are even more gifts inside it. They're all for you, Celeste." James smiled gently. "Can I take you to the amusement park today? There's a penguin roadshow today. Would you like to go?" Celeste looked up at Naomi. "Can I go, Mom?" "Do you really want to go, Celeste?"

“The tattoo she’s drawing on your skin will connect you to a bird. You can always send it information.” He held his hand out, showing me the tattoo on his arm. “I have the same one as well. This means the bird is reserved for just you and me. once our use of it is over, the tattoo will naturally fade away” The woman stepped back as she finished. “If you wish to convene it, all you have to do is speak its name, it will answer.” Her voice was gentle, yet carried an air of worship. She turned to my father, eyes searching for confirmation. He gave a slow, solemn nod, the weight of unexpressed memories shadowing his expression. A strange cold ran down my spine, the solemnity of their words sinkin