Skin In Cursive Novels & Stories

I didn’t flinch when he moved—he wasn’t like Raven. “Here. Hold the pen like this,” he said, guiding my fingers. “S... E... L...” My hand trembled. I pressed the pen down and scratched out a shaky “S.” It didn’t look right. I frowned. “Hey,” Luca said quickly. “It’s fine. That’s great for a first try.” I looked at him. His smile didn’t feel fake. “Let’s try again. Just follow my hand.” I tried again. “E... L... E... N... E.” The letters were crooked and uneven. I looked at him, ashamed.

Worse yet, I never fold my clothes when I take them off. Confused, I stumble out of bed, utterly naked. My lower back smarts as I take each step forward, and when I itch it, it feels sore, almost like a bug bite. Scowling, I halt in front of the mirror, I turn slightly, letting my eyes skim over my now-tanned skin, admiring my curves, even if I’ve seen them too many times. But when my eyes land on my lower back, I scream. In black, grey and blue ink, beautiful, intricate patterns of floral and wing designs mar my skin, but at its centre, Zefiro name sits majestically in stunning calligraphy.