Levitation
You got yourself a tattoo and realised that you now have a superpower.
I looked at the fresh black inked infinity tattoo on my finger as sadness was clouding my thoughts.
“Let’s take a picture of the masterpiece for our Instagram feed and let me get some cling film to wrap that beauty up,” the tattoo artist said excitedly, bringing a Polaroid camera.
As my finger got wrapped up like those cucumbers in hypermarkets, I looked over the vast window and reflected on the urban surroundings. I had always loved Greentown, with its thirsty clubs and painful breakups that occur there, including mine. It was a place that encouraged my tendency to break up with every guy that I met. And that magic happened tonight too.
“Now, Missy, remember, tattoos are like superpowers. Once you get them, you get the power to be special. Literally. Like nobody wants your blood anymore. You are that special,” the tattoo artist said teasingly.
Walking out of the shop, the midnight breeze hit my pale face. The road was still wet from the 11 p.m. rain that never missed making an appearance. As I crossed the road, a silver car was coming towards me at lightning speed. Blank, dark, terrified, my mental state was.
BOOM. My petite body flew like a paper plane hitting the tattoo parlour’s window. That was the last time I was myself.
A few minutes later I woke up unconsciously. My body felt numb. Trying my best to get a glance at what was happening, I see people crowding around me, suffocating me. I slowly tried my best to stand, but once again I toppled down like a pizza tower. But this time, the fall felt different. My body barely met the grey cement pavement. It was like I was floating, or more like levitating in mid-air. People were even more shocked than I was. Some were even taking pictures of me as though I was some trickster.
Pushing gravity down my body, I stood right. My head was still hammering with pain. I assume that was the “concussion”. Not knowing what to do, I tried my best to run away from the scene as fast as I could. After all, too much attention is never good.
I spotted a park that was still open. Seeing a bench, I quickly settled myself before I floated away like a balloon. Cluelessly staring at the muddy puddle that was ruining my white converse, I tried to recall what happened. I went through a breakup that didn’t break me. Had shots of vodka that did not intoxicate me. A tattoo that didn’t hurt me. And met with an accident that didn’t kill me. What has happened to me?
Then I saw something tall in the distance, or maybe it was someone. My eyes squinted into a tiny line to see who it was. It was the figure of Jack Louis talking to a cop. Jack was the tattoo artist. That is when I remembered what he said. He told me we get some kind of “superpower or alien powers” after a tattoo. But my brain wasn’t in the state of accepting such a myth. Nono, that can’t be true. Can it? I just floated off the pavement. It should be real, right?
“JACK! JACK!” I shouted my heart out, calling to him. But he wasn’t able to hear me.
Once again, I was left alone in the dark park. My soul stared at the tall elm tree. My brain felt numb from the fall. Even so, it tried its best to map out a plan for me to reach back home safely. I put my foot down and started walking. But once again, my body floated in mid-air. I felt like a superman. Maybe I did get a superpower after my tattoo.
Levitation powers!
Trying my best to walk on my phantom feet, I headed back home. As I passed by the tattoo parlour, I saw Jack once again. I studied Jack’s tall, lean figure and his blonde highlighted hair that made his black eyes stand out. Taking a deep breath, I stepped in front of Jack.
“What you said is true Jack,” I began in an amused tone, “I never thought your tattoos carry such power”.
Jack gulped. He glanced at his reflection. I stepped closer to Jack, seeing a depressed smile on his face.
Jack glared at the empty road with all the wrath and said, in hushed tones, “Why does this only happen to nice people?”
I looked back at him, even more unstable. “Jack, what are you talking about?” I asked him cluelessly. Jack looked broken, his emotions raw like a witty, wonky wall. I could hear Jack’s emotions shatter into 3000 pieces.
Then Jack hurried away into his shop and came out with a bunch of flowers. He placed them down along with a picture of my finger tattoo with a note saying;
REST IN PEACE.
