Scary Stories Flash Collection

13/13, Static

A Tattoo Horror Story

Once upon a morning dreary, while I set up, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of ink I poured. While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As some of one gently rapping, rapping at my shop door. ‘Tis some client,” I muttered, “tapping at my shop door-“ very early and nothing more.

Then here the door flung open, when, with much expression The Client began explaining, with a vague and foggy core Not the least description made; not a concept or thought clear. So again I asked a question, hoping for an answer that gave more; Till the dirges of my Hope that they would explain what they ask for - “Just something small, nothing more”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no tattoo idea expressing From the Client whose fiery eyes now burned into my artistic core; Startled at the vagueness broken by a question so aptly spoken “How much,” said they, “does it cost for something quick” they implore. “It would be fast, I’m sure” they said, much to my deplore. “Just something small, nothing more”

But the Client, standing lonely in the doorway spoke only That one phrase, as if their soul in that one phrase they did outpour. Nothing further did they elaborate - not a ‘scription did they dictate Till I scarcely more than muttered “but what exactly would you like-“ “A snake, a bat, a flower or a spike-“ Then the Client spoke, “Just something small, nothing more”