Colour tattoo of a seated angel with a blue and white wing, holding a pink calla lily, with a pink butterfly above, on skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Angel with calla lily and butterfly

Colour · Photo

A seated angel in a lilac robe holds a tall pink calla lily, with a large blue and white feathered wing behind her and a pink butterfly in the upper left corner. The linework is dark and defined, with soft blended shading on the robe, hair and wing feathers. Colour is limited to blues, purples, pinks and a warm orange glow behind the figure, set against lightly freckled skin.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

No, sit closer to the fire, because the cold up here does not care how far you have walked. The pass is called Hollin Gap, and the carters from the lowland towns will tell you it is only a notch in the rock where the wind takes a breath. My grandmother said otherwise. She said the angel who keeps the gap lost her wing in the rockfall the year the old road was cut, and she sat down on the ledge above the drop with a lily she had carried up from the valley, and she would not get up until someone crossed the top with a reason to be there.

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Every spring the carters asked her for passage, and every spring she asked them for one thing in return. Bring a bulb up from the valley, she said, and plant it in the snowmelt where no one has planted before. Most of them laughed. A mule-driver called Tomas Garrow, who I will not pretend was a good man, laughed hardest, then took a bulb anyway, because she had told him it would stand white against the snow and he wanted to see it with his own eyes.

The bulb took. The next summer the ledge was pink with lilies, and the butterflies came up the gorge in such numbers that the mules would not walk under them. Tomas came back every spring after that, and every spring he brought another bulb, and he never once asked the angel why she had chosen him. She never told him that the wing mending itself in her shoulder was the thing she had been waiting for.

If you go up in May, you will see the lilies still. Step gently, though, because she has stood up at last, and she is sleeping in the middle of them with her robe spread over the flowers.

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