Pseudopod 190: Wearing the Dead

By Alan Smale

Read by Kris Johnson

Trixie’s dead claws scrabbled faintly against the wooden stairs. The hairs on my arm came alive. It was clear Robbie hadn’t heard a thing.

What the heck could I say next? “I see you have tattoos.”

“Yep,” he said, and pushed up the sleeve on his right arm. “Check this out.”

They were hard to figure; dark shadows against his black skin. Against my better judgment, I was intrigued. I stepped forward.

It was a Celtic knot in a thick swirly pattern that went all around his bicep. He pushed up his left sleeve to show the silhouette of a heart with a long dagger thrust through it, ornamented with scrollwork.

“Neat,” I said. “Got any more?”

Robbie hesitated, and I realized what a potentially stupid question that had been.