Speaking Marks By Ethan Johnson My body is covered in unique markings that tell stories of where I’ve been. The back of my left leg yammers on about a young boy running through the woods near his house and not noticing the tangled barbed wire next to an old, rotting fence post. It could have been much worse—I escaped with a few scratches. My right forearm and wrist speak the tale of a kid whose dog hadn’t quite learned to play nice yet. Below my belly button, a long mark prattles on about a hernia surgery four years ago. My forehead sports a scar as well, screaming about a five-year-old boy taking a tumble down three cement steps, or so I’m told. On the…