Tortured Soul Tattoo Novels & Stories

Slowly the pain ebbed away and my neck felt numb with the occasional stinging. “Hazel? There is something on your neck?” Lorena stopped dabbing the wound and I felt my neck. The burn was gone but I couldn’t feel anything. Everyone was staring at me now and Cassie handed me a mirror from he purse. On my neck, was a freshly done tattoo, of a blood red eye next to a black crescent moon, intricately designed, with every detail standing out. I rubbed at it but it didn’t come off. Maybe the ritual did work.

The click of the seatbelt seems to seal me into his control. He slams the door shut with a deafening clap, his powerful frame filling the car as he starts the engine. My eyes are drawn to the intricate symbol tattoos adorning his bulging muscles, and I cannot help but feel both intimidated and mesmerised by them as they start to writhe and twist, moving across his skin as if alive. “Why do your tattoos move?” I whisper, my face unconsciously inching closer to his. His dark eyes meet mine, sending a shiver down my spine. “They’re ruins,” he answers gravely. “Tobin cast them to ward off dark magic.” I can’t tear my gaze away from the pulsating marks on his skin. “But why do they move?” I wonde

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.”

He studied her expression before asking, “What do you want?” “A lot.” Azrael answered and jumped from the stairs, “You can give me a few.” she pointed to the Mark under his scapula, it looked like a simple tattoo if you wouldn’t stare into it, but in reality, it looks like a fresh burn Mark made by blacksmiths as it actually glows and burns, “Do you know any other celestials that live among humans?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stubborn man. I purse my lips and eye Liam once more. Like a mind reader, he picks up the iron bar and this elicits even greater fear in the young man. “No! NO! PLEASE NOOOO!” He is branded again, this time over his chest where a tattoo of a skull with a worm crawling out of its empty socket resides. He screams and reflexively draws himself toward the scorched spot, howling from the stinging pain even as his skin evaporates under the extreme temperature of the bar.

Without hesitation, I fetched my phone out of my pocket and browsed on the internet what it meant if someone had a tattoo of a scorpion on his wrist. Some images were displayed on my phone screen and even before I could read out the content behind the scorpion tattoo, someone already beat me to it. "It symbolizes the membership of a well-known dangerous gang known as the Gun fire men." A familiar deep voice rung out loud from behind.

“Skulls and bones signify death. Knives and waves signify the medium of death. Waves in the sense that the person died by drowning. Knives in the sense that the person died by stabbing or some other way.” “Sia mentioned that he tried committing suicide at some point.” “There you have it.” “Why am I seeing these things? Is it normal to see these things?” “For hellhounds, yes. The tattoos tell you how many times one has escaped death.” “And this information is needed because?” “If the tattoos have reached a certain number, it means that the individual in question is tired of life. And we, because we’re so merciful, we end their life for good,” he explained.

I whisper more towards myself. The tattoo is of no ordinary design. The intricate details almost seem inhumanly made. Swirls of dusty-grey storm clouds surround a midnight-blue sword. They begin at the handles and spiral throughout the golden blade. Behind the sword lays black and blue tip wings. Each feather tip is like a tempestuous addiction. The closer I come, I want to touch it. Visions of the wings wrapping around me, never allowing me to escape, consume my thoughts. I look up at Raquel and shiver, not understanding how a tattoo could be so powerful.

What we’ll do, I don’t know. I kneel upright, eyes glossing over the neat and intentional tattoos on his back. I take in his muscles and toned back. I have a feeling nothing’s going to feel soft. But back to the tattoos. There’s something written in a foreign language right in the middle of his back—the spinous whatever. Above it is a maze. A figure walks in the path, but there seems to be no way out of the maze. On the side of his ribs: ‘The way to the heart is a path full of thorns’

“Do you often drink this much?” “No, just when I know that the nightmares are going to be bad. The tattoo that I got tonight is for a K9 that gave her life for me. Protecting me. The memories are right there, just under the surface.” she tapped her head. “You see the five of us having fun, getting drunk, being a little too perverted.” She shook her head. “We’re trying to make peace with our demons.”