Realistic Broken Clock Tattoo Novels & Stories

"Someone is cleaning up their mess. Someone who didn't want me finding out who the real employer was." "Look at this," Zach said. He flipped the tablet around and zoomed into a grainy photo of one of the corpses. The man’s shirt had been pulled back, revealing a tattoo on the side of his neck. It was a serpent entwined around a broken hourglass. The ink was dark, the lines jagged and precise. I felt the blood drain from my face. The room seemed to tilt. I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing until the image burned into my retinas.

The left side of my face has a nasty jagged scar from my temple down along my jawline and stops before reaching my chin. I can't look at myself in the mirror without a gush of rage rushing through my veins. The first time I looked at myself, I was in the hospital and punched the mirror. Jessie ran in, freaking out and took my face in my hands. I flinched under her touch as tears fill my eyes. "I didn't fall for you for your looks Elliott, I fell for what's in here," she chokes with a hand on my chest. "Maybe, but I'll still have this ugly reminder of how I almost died trying to surprise you," I choke in broken sobs as she took me in her arms and rubs my back in comfort.

“But it’s more painful to work over the spine. The shoulder would be more comfortable.” I chew on my lip, considering it. I mean, I’ve just spent two weeks being broken, drowned, electrocuted and poisoned. Surely, I can’t balk at a tattoo? “Can you draw it out in the size you think would look best, with the runes worked in, and then we can, see?” I ask. “Absolutely. Give me about ten minutes.”

It took us so long to get her back, I was dreading losing her, but I wouldn’t keep her in the dark about it. Walk into the room and see Joker with a new tattoo on his forearm; it appears to be a symbol and a pattern of something ancient. Something you would think a warrior would choose for himself for protection. All of his tattoos made no sense to anyone but Joker. I doubt anyone would be brave enough to question him. Glancing over at Queenie, I see her left forearm has black lace starting to connect the empty spaces to complete her sleeve. It looked so real, like you could pick it up off her skin.

His six packs and muscular arms were perfect for his torso. The tattoos were splattered on his chest, the one that has the M symbol with a crown on it, has some words written on it. He turned around to drop the bottle, and that made me see the tattoo on his back. It was a tattoo of a large bird flying away from an arrow directed to it. He turned to face me back as he leaned back on the fridge, then I looked up to his face. I looked away but something caught my eyes. I saw those words clearly. Broken. I have a feeling every words and shapes that was tattooed on his skin has a deeper meaning attached to it. But two of those tattoos got me thinking. The M symbol with the crown on it and the wo

Thinking about it now, it makes sense why there was also just one broken window that seemed to change places every now and then, most likely Harken and his friends. "I didn't get to see their faces on the cameras, but I won't mistake the bodies of those kids who broke in, they had these tattoos as well, all of them had the same ones, one of them was the son of that awful tattoo parlor that used to sit up on the corner of the block. He always used his father's tools to give underaged kids terrible tattoos and demand money from them, he tried to trick my son and his friends, thankfully I raised him much better than that," Mrs. Marche rants on.

“Says the guy who has his girl’s name tattooed across his heart.” “Hey!” Theo points toward Brock. “I’m not the only one, have you seen Brock’s tat on his ribs lately?” Jax’s eyes fly wide as his head snaps toward Brock. “You didn’t…” Brock leans back, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Damn right I did.” He grabs for the hem of his shirt, yanking it up to reveal a tattoo inked on his side. It’s a detailed piece with a forest treeline and a wolf howling to the moon, and sure as shit, running through the middle of it is his mate’s name: Astrid. The forest design and the letter A look a little faded, but the rest of Astrid’s name is a shade darker, like it’s a fresh addition.

I paced around the room, trying to get myself and my thoughts together. "What would I do now? What am I supposed to do? What was I going to tell my dad or mom? This is fucked up!" I murmured, running my fingers through my hair. I went back to the mirror to get a good look at the mark. The mark was beautifully tattooed on my neck. It was a picture of a half-crescent moon and a large black wolf staring at it; its mouth opened as if it was howling at it. It was beautiful, and it complimented my skin. I knew the mate-bound was already strengthened. There was nothing that could break it anymore.

"Yeah, have it?" Skoteinó chuckled and removed his white smiley mask that revealed the tattoos on his face. The tattoo that attracts Raverine the most is the official insignia of Die Dark — a smiling skull with a bloody fang. The tattoos were all over his dark-toned face. He also had piercings on his nose and lip — a typical look of an outlaw.

Touching her tattoo, I ask her what it means. “I don’t know how to explain it. You’ll think I’m crazy if I do,” she says. “Try me. I’ve had my fair share of crazy,” I offer in response. “I had the tattoo done after suffering a loss a few years back,” she explains. Pointing at it, she continues, “You see this? It’s called a Nautilus shell. Can you see how it curls up into itself, almost like it’s never ending? For me, that represents infinity with no end and no beginning.”