As tattoos are changing lives

May 7, 2012 8:31

About four years ago, waiting for a bus with friends came up to us young people. Was a classmate of my friend. 25 years old, very thin, very tall, very heavy, with some crazy lights, look. On the road talking.

And that Artyom told about himself. In the 20 years left to serve in the army. As early as the year was married, his wife was pregnant. Sent him to the Far East. With him was a self-taught tattoo artist, who proposed to keep the memory of the service, traversed together.

So Artem shoulder appeared tattoo depicting the Devil. Full of the usual guitar strings blue. But there was something frightening. No, even terrifying. Silhouette depicts half-turned, in a raincoat with a hood, with a staff. From under the hood, you could see the terrible sharp look. As life. Related service was given quite easily, without any incidents. Artem wife safely delivered a girl and waited the return of her husband. With the arrival of Artyom nightmare began.

Once home, dear to each other people began to swear on any occasion. Daughter became ill to sleep at night. And this is all that Artem never very violent explosive character, always spoke quietly, thoroughly. As a result, the family fell apart within a year. Wife, declaring that he could not live with it, even in the same area, went with her daughter to relatives in Moscow, cutting off all communication later. Subject to change significantly. Started drinking and walking. He could not understand what he was guilty.

Immediately after the army went to work, the entire salary to bring home a penny, friends do not walk, do not drag behind skirts. Why? After some time, he became interested in mysticism. Imagined that can comprehend the mystery of magic. He rented an apartment, not wanting to live with their parents. Once, in the drunk, he brought to his lady of questionable behavior. Subject thought you need to put on Muzychka tougher, so do animals have sex.

He woke up in the basement, it sounded wild, tearing the ear hearing aids, music. His hands were scratched into the blood. On a brick, moldy wall, there was something written. His blood. Through music, he heard a "sign." Its scope wild fear. On cotton, not to listen to his feet, he climbed out of the cellar. The apartment was empty. He did not remember anything. Where did the lady, as he was in the basement, he said.

Topic moved to his parents and tried to forget this nightmare. Now let me tell what happened to him when we met. After much thought, inquiry, I decided to make a tattoo. Meaning, long thought over the sketch. I found the master, working at home, but was afraid to go to one. You never know. Artem has offered his support (he basically wanted to be with me as often as possible in order to put friendships in a different direction, but I was set to something else)

When the wizard has finished, Artem turned to him for advice on whether to kill his tattoo. Even the many types of master, pulled away from his tattoos. Rather big amount counted. On the way home, he said that if the expensive interrupt tattoo, he wanted her to continue. But how? He wanted to fill the second arm of the Archangel, and on his chest to depict "their battleground." I was wondering, why would he all of this. Topic explained that analyzing its twenty-five year life, talking to experienced people, he realized that his tattoo broke his life.

He felt that there was someone sitting, whispering something to him, not pushing for the most plausible actions, interferes with sleep. He can not look at myself in the mirror, because I did not stand their own views. He wanted to create some contrast, to try to protect themselves. Then, I thought it sacrilege. This is not a joke, draw on themselves a higher power. Honestly, I was scared. Our communication has come to naught. He called several times and asked to come for a visit. I refused, citing his heavy load.

Six months later, I was in the bank, paying for daycare. Heard the voice of the "kind of people, and without protection." I turned around. Looked at me very round, a stout man with a face sallow. Only the narrow, swollen eyes and constant voice I heard Tom's. I was shocked. Artem said that after our last meeting, he fell ill. He found the leukemia. Six months of life it supports strong drugs. He could not eat, constantly sick stomach. Ate some pills. He said that when he put the diagnosis, his mother found him a wife and daughter tearfully begged call Artem.

Subject cried when he called a girl. His wife, it turns out, never hid from her daughter's father, not to antagonize. The girl knew who her father was and where he lived. Artyom was lying in the hospital, on a drip, when he called my daughter happy and said that she and her mother arrive in a couple of days for him. They do not have time. Artem died with a smile and tears in her eyes. Now she was sitting, and the lump in my throat is worth remembering it all. I learned of his death through a friend. This message sounds so humdrum, so cynical. I do not understand why.

I called our mutual friend, asked to go along, because one could not go to his funeral, because none of those present did not know. For some reason, wanted to buy a dark red roses, carnations and not as accepted. I asked him for forgiveness, I am ashamed that refused to come when he called me. Perhaps I too blame. I thank everyone who took the time and read this story!

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