(c) 2001
They were used to the apprehension; they told me. Everyone�s afraid of getting a tattoo. It hurts, they said.
But I wasn�t afraid of the tattoo. Okay, I was, but only because it was for life. I would never be able to rid myself of the images drawn on my body, which means that I would be a member for life.
�Come, my friend,� the leader cried out as the room quietened. �It is time to begin the sacred ritual.�
The ritual. This was the last step. After this, there was no turning back.
The room burst into noise as the members began to chant and stamp their feet, circling around me.
The tattooist was whistling while cleaning his apparatus. The leader, standing tall before me, was mumbling strange words. They scared me. I didn�t know what was happening and I wasn�t particularly interested in finding out; yet I found myself strangely drawn by the rising chant around me.
They spiraled into a walkway for me, creating a tunnel. Some unseen force pushed me through the tunnel to the chair. This was it. My life was over.
As I was strapped in and the tattooist busied himself sorting through the variety of needles, I had flashbacks of my former self. I saw my home where my sister and brother lived. I saw my cat meowing in my ear at 3 am. All of my school friends crowding around me, trying to get my attention.
Collapsing with the news of my mother�s death. Running away and finding the group that I was now joining.
As the needle punched into my skin, I screamed. The members screamed also as if they were sharing my pain, before performing an erratic dance that expressed their true joy.
I tried to hold back my tears as the needle entered my skin, over and over again. The pain subsided as the area turned numb. I turned towards the leader who simply stared back at me grimly. He never took part in the gang�s shenanigans.
As the image began to form on my arm, the dancing continued. They were unable to stop as the excitement overwhelmed their child-like minds. Watching their dance made me woozy, and so I closed my eyes. But that only allowed dots of dizzying magnitudes to swirl around my closed lids.
The tattoo continued. I could now see the thorny vines twisting their way around my arm. Little droplets of blood were evident in various places, and one thorn was bleeding endlessly.
I tried to clear my mind, but the noises stalled me. I couldn�t think.
Suddenly, the annoying buzzing stopped and a warm bandage was wrapped around my arm. I looked up into the eyes of the tattooist. Grinning, he slapped the bandage.
�You�ll be alright,� he muttered as he began to wipe the bloody river running down my arm.
Smiling, I began to stand, only to collapse once more. Laughing, the members crowded around me, pulling at me and carrying me above their heads. Their infectious happiness spread and I too began to laugh. I felt no pain; only the euphoria that continued to burn its way throughout my body.
When we reached the fire, the gently placed me down with my back to the flames. Again, their quiet chanting filled the noise with its melodious sounds. The leader walked up to me and smiled. As the wailing chant increased into loud banshee yells, he kissed me on the forehead, signaling the completion of the ritual.
It was over.
