Short horror stories

Ink practice

  She had always wanted to be a tattoo artist. She loved art and drew many designs ever since she was a little girl. There was just something about putting your own art on someone's skin for the rest of their lives that filled her with delight. She wanted her art to be known and appreciated. The only problem was that people don't live forever, meaning neither did her art.
  She would often practice her art on corpses. She knew that if anyone found out then they would want nothing to do with her and call her crazy, but she loved the fact that she could tattoo whatever she wanted. The dead would never tell what and where you can't tattoo.
  She didn't only tattoo the dead, however. She began working at the small tattoo place near her house. It wasn't too well known, but she was able to get her art out there. Sometimes it was hard to see her art walk off, but she knew that someday she would see it again.
  If she ever found out that someone she had tattooed passed away, she would be sure to find the body so she could take it home and preserve it. Are couldn't just let her art rot away. She'd cut it off the body if she had to and preserved that chunk of flesh. Her art was her everything and it could never die. She didn't care how many bodies she had to preserve.
  She ended up with a museum of tattooed corpses and chunks of flesh that filled her basement and even parts of her house. Every single day she would walk through her museum and very often added knew pieces of "art" to it.
  Eventually, she got to the point where she couldn't just wait for people to die in order to get her art. She began to poison the tip of her needle that she would then use to tattoo her victims. A few days, or even a few hours later, she would be able to add to her collection. These mysterious deaths continued to occur as the collection build more and more. She never grew scared of getting caught. She was proud of her art.
  I guess they're right when they say "think before you ink"