A Town Called Big Nothing

Rufino rode into view on his white stallion. The streets emptied like the receding tide.

He was considered a desperado, a gunfighter who roamed the towns, working for anyone willing to pay. Sometimes he was a bounty hunter, sometimes a cattle rustler, sometimes an assassin. They knew him by his tattoos. On his skin were inscribed the names of each of his victims.

Everyone in town had reason to fear Rufino's arrival. He could be there for any one of them.

When Rufino rode away into the setting sun, every single inhabitant was dead and his skin was considerably darker.

The Black Dots, Part One

Every victim of the past month had been found with the same black dot tattooed to his or her forehead. We reported it to all the usual departments, thinking we must have a serial killer or cult on our hands. But each of the deaths appeared random, with a variety of causes and nothing linking them together.

The captain was mad at me so I was assigned the desk, going through all the case files. I was the one who discovered the connection, that all the victims had visited a certain pharmaceuticals factory on the east side before their deaths.

The Stakes

They sat across from each other at their favorite restaurant and it seemed everything was at stake.

She fussed with her rings and he rubbed at his tattoo and they said everything except the truth of their despair. It was easy to pretend their worlds were crumbling into ruins when what they really needed to say was that life had become a burden. It would be easier on their own but each wanted the other to blame and so they spun their lies into spit and tears until they realized nothing was at stake any longer except their favorite restaurant.

The Girl With So Many Tattoos

Brad saw her the first day of class and immediately fell in love. She was cool. She had tattoos on every part of her body. The tattoos made her an outcast as much as her attitude, but Brad loved her for both.

It wasn't until much later that he began to see the truth. She wasn’t tattooed. She was a tattoo herself. A living, walking tattoo, capable of speech, inclined to violence. She was the ultimate artistic rendition of pure vengeance.

Brad loved her all the more. As he told his friends, “True love is not concerned with surface things.”