Undertaker Sara Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Very well then, I'm sure you'll be slightly relieved to know that I found the people who hit Mrs. Quinn’s car.” I drag on my cigarette and release the smoke, watching it form a small cloud. It's been a week since I buried my wife, and I can barely function. The only thing that gets me up in the morning is the fact that her killers are still out there, and I intend to fish them out one by one. “Ready?” Joe, the tattoo artist asks. I nod and crush the cigarette on the side table. “What design do you have in mind?” He asks. “Start with the name, Silver, then add roses.”

“Urghh!” I grumbled out of frustration as I watch the tattooed stranger drive out of my street. The jerk made me beg him for sex only to turn me down, apparently he had a child to take care of and couldn’t stay but still didn’t make any attempt to ask for my number or even give his, such a jerk. I hissed and headed inside my tiny apartment, the emptiness welcomed me once again. It’s always been just me ever since Henry got hospitalized, we lived together after my graduation.

Steve said making the motions of knighting an invisible kneeling man with a sword. “You don’t understand,” Cara said. She was sitting on the edge of the recliner making wild hand gestures as she spoke. She was manic and Steve could tell. “Now I get it,” Steve said. “Get what?” Cara asked. “That tattoo on your back. The one over your butt crack.” “What do you mean?” “It’s a picture of Jack the ripper, with fangs. Now I get the connection.” “The tattoo shop didn’t have a vampire dressed like Jack the ripper so I had them put fangs on what they had.”

“You’re certain Coral and Zane are from this cartel?” “Positive. If you flip through, you’d see their pictures.” I did as he said and examined the two siblings. “Remember you said they had a tattoo of a rose in between thorns? That’s the signature mark of the cartel.” They were standing together, hand in hand, with big smiles on their faces. The general description Kira gave matched the picture before me. I peered intently at Zane’s biceps in a sleeveless shirt and sure enough, the dreaded tattoo was there.

I approach the covered painting board and try to look under it. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Shouts a male voice. His voice invades in me chills, warm chills and when I turn to look at the person who shouted of anger, I realize it is still him. Zack Torneur, with a tower attached around his waist, living his naked well-sculptured chest seen with his wings tattoo. When I analyze him more deeply, apart from his curly hair and his light brown eyes, he has a light stubble beard. On his forarm the word GO in very big capital letters had been tattooed, on his biceps a big moon tattoo and on his thorax a rose surrounded by thorns. All this tattoo? What for? It seems he has other tattoos, but right n

Is he naturally built like this? Sasha steps backward to give me the full picture. I see stars on his knees that match his shoulders. He twists, showing the rugged expanse of his back. I was right: it's a church inscribed over his shoulder blades and spine. It's lovely, but above it is the terrifying image of a spider. "Ulyana told me about the tattoos in the Bratva," I say. Inching off the desk, I approach him. He remains where he is, watching me over his shoulder. My hand touches one of the stars. "What do these all mean?"

“That tattoo on your neck was the same as hers. The exact same, no difference. I would remember that tattoo even if I was dead.” I stared, still not knowing what else to say. I had never felt strongly about anything as I’d felt about this. But where was the evidence to prove I might have not been responsible for Zara’s death? And the same tattoo? No one had my tattoo. No one. It was the inking of me as an angel dressed in black and wielding a gun and a knife, and next to it was a star. The word ‘death’ was inked on one of the wings while black stars were inked dripping like tears from the other wing.

Sara frowned as she followed the smell, her senses sharp and her body ready, however, instead of a body, she found the strangest of things. Symbols on the wall, all drawn in blood, demonic blood, but that wasn’t the part that shocked her, it was the familiar symbols that took the form of a large circle with a dote in the middle, they were the same she saw tattooed on the faces of those of who attacked Nara long ago, one of them being her brother.

I laid down on the bed as Phil, the tattoo artist, started working on my new ink. Josh was on another bed adding to the sleeve on his arm. My tattoo was half of a wolf’s face in a Samoan design with the caption ‘Fight or Die’ underneath it. Josh had phoned some old friends he still had and had arranged for an introduction to the man that ran the fight nights in California. We went to the first one and just watched. The place was packed and I felt sure that I could have taken that night’s fighters easily.

The bitch is supporting his son and the others in doing this so he can go to hell for all I care. "The decorated one." Shade says nodding to the stencil in Rux's right hand. Mr. Rux beams and hands the stencil over to the tattoo artist. The bald man with a bushy beard is covered in tattoos and seems to in his fifties. He doesn't spare the chains around my wrist a glance as he grabs my forearm and twists it so that the underside of it faces upwards. All business, he shaves and cleans where the tattoo will be. He places the stencil so it begins right beneath the crease between my forearm and arm. I stay still. If this is going to happen then I at least don't want it to be a shitty tattoo. It'l