Pinterest Prompts

Noon

Prompt: On everyone's birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends are gathered around for your reveal: 

If anyone says that they weren't nervous counting down to noon on their eighteenth birthday, they were liars. I got zero sleep worrying what my purpose in life would be. Millions of people had a clue what their purpose in life or their career would be: most weren't surprised at all with the word that appeared across their left arm. I always figured that it was tied to your psyche, how you really felt inside of you, that determined what word came up.

My father, for example had a true desire for art. His parents didn't think it would be a good idea and tried hard to get him into sports. Throughout his childhood, he was involved in everything, from baseball to football. He was nervous that the word "athlete" would appear on his arm but nearly cried for joy when "artist" showed instead. Mind you, he wasn't the second coming of Picasso but he is a local celebrity around here: not too many homes are without some sort of Edward Waterson sculpture or painting.

My parents' upbringing made me glad that they weren't like my paternal grandparents: they didn't want to push me into doing something I had no interest in. Problem was: I didn't have a honest to goodness true interest in one particular thing. There wasn't anything I excelled in or anything that made me want to push hard for. I liked sports but couldn't play a lick of anything. I skated through school with a 2.9: in fact, my graduation was that evening!

So, yeah: I was a bundle of nerves as the clock ticked closer to noon. I had no clue what would appear on my arm and I think that's the scariest thing in the world. What if "murderer" appeared? Fortunately, the bill hadn't passed yet but there had been one in the works for as long as I could remember that would condemn those with that mark, even before they could commit anything.

At the breakfast table, my entire family gathered. Well, my immediate ones: mom, dad, my older brother, my baby sister and my maternal grandmother. The others tried to make themselves busy around the house but for the most part, they sat impatiently in the living room. Mom tried to explain to her mother how the live video stream would work as I pushed my eggs around the plate with my fork. We usually ate earlier but this was a special occasion and mom slaved over the stove for a good part of the morning.

"Look at you: you haven't ate a thing..." Grandma Georgia stopped listening to mom and got up to, well, I hoped not to feed me! She looked at my plate and made a "tsk" sound before filling it with a pile of bacon.

"Now, now, Mama Georgia: we don't need the boy throwing up on live stream!" my dad chuckled but slyly took a few pieces of my bacon, placing it on his empty one. The man was a stick figure but could eat you out of house and home!

I sighed a bit but laughed at my dad. "I'm fine. Just a bit nervous."

"As you should be. Look: whatever shows up on your arm, we'll love you, regardless."

"Even if it's 'murderer'?" I blurted out. Grandma Georgia gasped, almost dropping her own plate but my brother laughed.

"I guess we'd have to kick your evil ass out and change the locks! I'll call ya once in a while..." he winked and slapped my shoulder hard. Mike was an artist but of a different kind: the word that appeared on his arm a few years back was "tattoo". Of course, it was the first tattoo he got, in the exact spot where it appeared. As conceited as he was, he was the city's best tattoo artist. In fact, I looked forward to mine: the two of us argued a lot but I knew he'd been working on my first tattoo for quite some time.

I hadn't noticed that things became quiet until I found myself staring at the clock on the microwave. I got goosebumps as the digital numbers changed to 11:59. Mom was live streaming, occasionally saying hi or answering questions to the ones who commented or joined in online. The kitchen became crowded because I didn't want to move from my seat. How could I: in less than a minute, one word would appear that would tell me my purpose in life. I cursed mentally because of my nonchalant way I'd handled my life this far.

There was a countdown as though it was New Year's Eve and I shook in anticipation. When everyone got to zero, I stopped breathing. Would I feel the words scurrying across my arm? Did I even want to look? For some type of sign, I looked at my mom... whose beaming face suddenly turned into utter shock. Gasps were heard and even a plate or something shattered. Both my dad and brother gazed with widened eyes and slack jaws. Uncle Jack caught Grandma Georgia right as she fainted and I could feel my heart about to jump out my chest.

I had to look: no one could say anything. The word would leave soon and I needed to know. As I looked down... I understood why everyone reacted the way that they did. At first, I thought it had to say "murderer" or something that would make me an outcast. I wasn't prepared for the word written in neat cursive across my forearm:

Reaper.