Black fine line tattoo of an arrow above an ornate mandala-style motif and a second arrow, running vertically down the centre of a person's back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Arrow and ornate mandala down the spine

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A vertical design runs down the centre of the upper back, with an arrow at the top, a symmetrical ornamental medallion in the middle and a second arrow below. The linework is fine and even, with the feathered arrow shafts and the petal-like detail of the medallion built from thin black lines. The ink is solid black against the skin, and the composition is centred on the spine with a wide, plain background.

Fine line Geometric Back Arrow Mandala Ornament Medallion Floral pattern

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You are still holding the second arrow when the vicar asks for the rings, and the feathers are damp from your palm. Your uncle Tomas fletched them the night before, bent over the bench in the barn with a pot of glue and a pile of goose feathers he had been saving since the spring. He cut each vane by eye, then trimmed them to match, and when you asked why two, he only said that one arrow has never yet been enough for a marriage.

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The medallion pinned between the shafts is Aunt Grete's work. She cut it from a sheet of black card with a scalpel, folding it four times, and the petals came out lacy and even, each one a little hinge of paper. She made you practise on old newspaper until your fingers stopped shaking. Every line has to hold or the whole thing falls open, she said, and you did not understand her until you watched the bride's mother lift the card from its box and find it still whole.

Afterwards, in the orchard with the lanterns swinging, the bride takes the second arrow from your hands and asks what it is for. You tell her it points back the way you came, so that neither of you ever has to wonder where the path began. She laughs and says that is exactly the sort of thing a fletcher's nephew would say. Then she slides it into the sleeve of her coat, and you hear the feathers rasp against the lining as she walks away across the wet grass.