Fine line arrow tattoo on the inner left forearm and a feather tattoo with mint green and pink accents on the inner right forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Arrow and feather tattoos on two forearms

Fine line · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

Two forearms are shown with a thin, single arrow running vertically on the left and a feather on the right. The arrow has a small pink or red tip and feathered fletching in fine black linework, while the feather has a mint green fill with pink-toned detailing along its quill. The subject is shot close up against a paved ground with a denim sleeve visible at the top, and a thin bangle sits on the right wrist.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift in Harrow Point had stuck between the eleventh and twelfth floors again, and Dilys Marr, who had lived on the eleventh for forty years, said it was the wind that did it. The wind came up off the canal and found every gap in the cladding. Her grandson Tomas, nine and bored, pressed the button for the sixth time and listened to nothing happen.

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Above them, on the roof, a pigeon called Sergeant had fed on crusts from the community garden for as long as anyone could remember. Dilys claimed the bird owed her a favour from the winter of the flood, when she had hauled its dead mate out of the drain. Tomas did not believe her. He believed in arrows, because the boy on the fourth floor had one made from a broom handle and a coat hanger, and Tomas had traded him a sparrow's feather for the right to shoot it at the bins.

The lift shuddered and dropped an inch. Dilys took a feather from her cardigan pocket, where she kept it for luck, and told Tomas that a feather and an arrow were the same thing if you let them fly far enough. Feathers came down, arrows went up, and somewhere they met. He said that was rubbish. She said, "Then hold the thing still," and gave him the feather to press against the emergency button while she sang the old song about the miller's daughter.

The doors opened on the twelfth floor at last. Sergeant was sitting on the rail outside with one foot tucked up, watching them with his head on one side. Tomas stepped out, the bird lifted, and for a second the feather in his hand caught the light the colour of mint sauce. Dilys said nothing. She had a habit of not saying things when they were already true.

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