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Tattoo Tales: Buried Treasure & the Coordinates to Nowhere

Writer's picture: Tony MabeeTony Mabee

The Mabee Inked Archives: Tony's Tattoo Truths & Tales


Tattoo Stories: Buried Treasure & the Coordinates to Nowhere

Tattoo Tales: Buried Treasure & the Coordinates to Nowhere


Some tattoos stay with you forever. Some clients? Not so much.

It started like any other session—client books an appointment, sends in their design idea, shows up, and we get to work. Simple. Routine. But that night? That night broke every rule.

He walked in just before closing, tall and lean, wearing a dark hoodie pulled low over his face.


His voice was calm but clipped, like a man used to getting his way.

“I need this done tonight,” he said, sliding a folded piece of paper across my station.

I opened it. The design was simple—coordinates. Just a series of numbers stretching across his forearm.

“Specific meaning?” I asked, because I always do. People get tattoos for a reason.

His jaw tensed. “It’s where I buried something.”

That should’ve been my first red flag.

The air between us thickened. I let out a slow breath, trying to play it cool. People say weird shit when they get tattooed. Jokes, confessions, half-truths. But this guy? He wasn’t joking.

I prepped my station, my mind running in a hundred directions. The shop was empty—just me, him, and the buzzing needle. As I started the first pass, I watched him. He never flinched. Never looked away. Just stared straight ahead, like a man watching a clock tick down.


Tattoo Stories: Buried Treasure & the Coordinates to Nowhere
Tattoo Stories: Buried Treasure & the Coordinates to Nowhere

Halfway through, my curiosity got the best of me. “So… something valuable?”

He smirked, but it never reached his eyes. “Something priceless.”

Second red flag.


I wanted to stop, wanted to ask more, but I didn’t. I did what I was paid to do—I finished the tattoo.

When it was done, he stood, flexing his arm, running his fingers over the ink like it meant more to him than just coordinates. Like he was touching a memory.

Then, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a thick wad of cash, and dropped it on my station.


“Keep the change.”

I barely had time to react before he turned and walked out the door. No aftercare questions. No mirror check. Just… gone.

A minute passed. Then another. Something in my gut twisted. I glanced at the coordinates still open on my station.

And that’s when I did something I never do.

I typed them into my phone.


Tattoo Stories: Buried Treasure & the Coordinates to Nowhere
Tattoo Stories: Buried Treasure & the Coordinates to Nowhere

And the screen went white.

No map. No results. Just an error message: “Location does not exist.”

My breath caught. I double-checked the numbers. Same result.

That was six months ago. The guy never came back. Never called. Never posted the tattoo anywhere.


I don’t know what I inked onto his skin that night, and I don’t think I want to.

Some tattoos are meant to be permanent. Some should’ve never been done at all.

What do you think? Would you have taken the appointment? What would you do if the location didn’t exist? Drop your thoughts below!



What do you think the coordinates meant?

  • 🔥 A buried treasure, waiting to be found.

  • 💀 Something much darker—evidence of a crime.

  • ❓ A psychological test, just to see what I’d do.


Drop your vote in the comments below!

Until the next crazy session, keep your ink meaningful… or mysterious

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