[ WP ] When a child is born , he is born with tattoos that will tell the story of his life . He spends years trying to decipher them , but - as it is with everyone - he is unable to . As life goes on , however , situations surface and he begins to understand his tattoos .

The man sat quietly, trailing a sallow finger over the squishy arm before him, spilled onto the laminated table in a pool of skin. He followed the trail of ink from where it began at the base of the wrist just to the elbow, where the rest was swallowed up by the sleeve of a faded t-shirt. 
 
 She had told him so many times before about the story of her arm, and he had been so fascinated by it, it had stuck in his mind like treacle that oozed out of his mouth in whispered words as he traced. 
 
 `` Where I was born... my Jack Russell, Petey... my best friend from school, Attie Wallace, long dead now though... the beauty pageant I won at seventeen... your father... you... the old gas station... Uncle Jamie...'' 
 
 `` Mom, I know why you wo n't let me see the rest of your markings.'' 
 The woman, who up until now had been ignoring the man mumbling along to himself, looked up from her Woman's Weekly. 
 `` What do you need, darling?'' she replied, not quite having heard what had interrupted her reading. 
 
 `` I know why I'm not allowed to see your markings! The rest of your timeline!'' 
 `` Oh honey, you know why. It's because there ai n't any more,'' she sighed, crushing out the tiny nub of her cigarette on the tabletop. 
 
 `` That's a lie though, is n't it? You do n't want me to see any of your future, because it reveals my future! I now know what my markings mean!'' 
 As he spoke, his voice grew quicker and more strained, as his words raced to catch up with his thoughts. 
 
 `` My markings, I realised it, they're not a timeline, how could they be? No, they bear the tidings of ill omen. That's why they all shunned me, mom, even as a child, they could all feel it. They were afraid of it. My markings show the dark power that rises up in me, taking over my body and eventually consuming my soul. I feel it within me, the darkness, the darkness. ALL WILL BOW BEFORE ME!'' he finished with a shriek, standing up sharply and knocking the chair to the linoleum with a clatter. 
 
 The woman scraped her chubby palms over the magazine, staring at it as she flattened the curling corners to the table, and sighed again. She then looked up at her son, with the slightly wet eyes of someone who had long ago let life defeat them. 
 
 `` Honey, I told you. That's just your port wine stain, you had it even as a little baby. Now go and watch TV. I've got to go make dinner.''
