The Words Written Upon My Skin (Chapter 1 Part 1)

For the interested parties, as you can see I decided to make this into a bit of a series.  I have no idea how long it will go on for.  I am writing this story, one word at a time, no planning involved.  As I continue with it I will post more about how I was inspired.  Enjoy!

New tat

Image by Little Orange Crow via Flickr

Chapter 1

I had an odd and foreboding feeling the day before it happened.  No rhyme or reason, just that an odd feeling like something bad was going to happen.  I checked my words numerous times, yet they stayed their happy, floaty, positive selves, flowing across my skin as everyone’s does.  Words, like love, joy, happiness, the ones I always have.  Some say there was a time when our skins were blank, that no words appeared and a spell or curse was laid upon us.  I thought that was insane and the people who believed it were crazy.

That was before, I know better now.  When I woke up, I still had a bit of that odd feeling lingering.  I just couldn’t seem to shake it, so I decided to take a shower and see if that helped clear things up.  It cleared things up alright.  When I walked into the bathroom, I got a good view of myself and I saw very clearly.  My words!  My words had changed!  I didn’t understand, my words were far from their usual positive, happy selves, they were negative and mean.  Where before I saw words like love, joy and peace, I saw hate, pain and anger.  I could not understand it, one word I could pass by like anger, everyone has a random negative word every now and again, but to have almost all of them negative?  I could not comprehend it.

I stood there staring at the mirror in horror for what seemed like eternity, though it could not have been more than a few minutes at most.  I heard my parents start to stir and it spurred me to action, well, panic at least.  I didn’t know what to do!  If anyone saw these negative words on me they would call the Editors.  One look at me and the Editors would lock me in isolation “for the good of all.”  One’s words were supposed to express how we felt and thought, right?  That’s what we were all taught.  All I could think was, “how could this be? I don’t feel these negative things!  Why have my words changed?”

My parent’s bedroom door squeaking, launched me into actual action.  I couldn’t let them see me like this, it would break their hearts, besides they only had two choices, turn me in to the Editors or help me run and hide and risk imprisonment themselves.  Either way I could not bear it.  As quietly as I could I dressed and packed everything I thought I would need.  Generic clothes, plain shirts and jeans that no one could recognize as mine, all the money I had saved from my part-time jobs, almost $5,000.00 and my diary.  Everything else, all my pictures, my books, my computer, I left.

I snuck out through my window onto the branch I would use as a walkway to my tree house when I was younger.  It was hard, I could barely see in the predawn light, but I knew the path well.  My family and I were very early risers, so at least I didn’t have to worry too much about any one seeing me before I made it to the train station two blocks away.  I had about 15 minutes till the first train cam by.  I was planning on getting on and hiding in the bathroom till I got to Waterville, the fourth stop, the last stop and the last town before the Outlands on the other side of the Great River.

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