Strip by strip she placed them, one side coated with a sheen of waxy adhesive, against the far wall of her apartment. She was almost done. The mosaic of flesh.

So many bodies had been sacrificed for it. Men and women and children sacrificed to become another set of strips upon her wall. But this way, they would gain purpose.  When Elizabeth Short was slain, she was adored with a smile that the world would not soon forget.

So too would her victims, their flattened faces pressed and attached to the top left corner of the wall–the stars of a macabre “Stars and Stripes”–soon be forever remembered as the paint for her  breathtaking ors d’ouvre.

She pressed the last strip of human flesh against the wall with her thumb. Then she stepped back and smiled. She had given her victims a gift. Immortality in infamy.