Flash sheet of 36 black line drawings of sunbursts and stars on a cream background, under the heading 36 hand-drawn sunbursts and stars.

36 hand-drawn sunbursts and stars sheet

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A grid of 36 black ink designs arranged in nine rows of four, showing sunbursts, suns and small stars drawn with radiating rays, dots, dashes and spirals. The linework ranges from fine single strokes to solid filled centres and dense rays, with some designs enclosing stars or concentric circles. The sheet is entirely black on a plain cream background, with a bold black heading across the top.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer, and mind the dog, he's had his supper and thinks he's owed the warm bit. That was the winter the sun went lazy over Cold Harrow, and my father said it had simply got tired of looking at us. Nobody had seen a proper sky since Martinmas. The ewes stood in the lee of the hay barn with their breath hanging over them like washing, and the Pryce boys came up the lane every morning to ask whether the light had come back yet.

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Mother had a box of stub chalk from the schoolroom, the kind you'd use on a slate. She drew a sun on the byre door, a plain circle with rays, and when that did nothing she drew another, then another. By the end of the first week there were thirty-odd suns up the walls, and every one of them was different. Some had rays like darning needles, some had dashes going out in a broken ring, and one had a little spiral curled into its middle like a snail that had learned to shine. Grandfather said the sun would not come for a copy. It had to be asked properly, with a sort of care.

So we went round the farm with a bucket and a rag, and the boys learned to draw stars too, five points, six, one with a dot in its belly. On the twelfth day the youngest, Tomas, who could barely hold the chalk, drew a sunburst on the flat stone by the gate and forgot to make it even. Its rays went every way at once. Grandfather laughed till he coughed and said that was the one.

It rained that night and the chalk ran, and in the morning there was only a grey smear on the stone. But the sky over the far field had gone the colour of weak tea, then milk, and then, on the thirteenth day, the sun came up crooked and gold, throwing the shadow of the gatepost clear across the frost. Tomas still draws crooked suns. Mind you don't tell him it was the rain that did it.

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