Colour tattoo of a cartoon baby elephant with its trunk raised, spraying pink and teal swirls, on the ankle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Baby elephant spraying swirls on an ankle

Ankle · Colour · Photo

A cartoon baby elephant sits on the ankle with its trunk raised, spraying a fan of curling lines and small dots above it. The elephant has a bold black outline with soft grey and pink shading, and a single dot for an eye. The swirls are rendered in pink, blue and teal on lighter skin, with the composition running up the side of the ankle.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hush now, the goat is listening and she has opinions. The calf was called Mabel, though nobody at the top of the pass could say why an elephant should carry a name like that. He came up in the back of a wool lorry in the spring of the long drought, folded into a crate, and when the crate was prised open he looked at the dry trough, looked at the white sky, and lifted his trunk like a man calling for the landlord.

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The spring above the cistern had stopped running in March. Idris the shepherd had prayed to the wrong saint, and the right one was hard of hearing. Mabel climbed onto the lip of the stone, sat down with his small grey legs stuck out in front of him, and sprayed. Curls of water rose in fans, bright and silly, and dots of it spattered the flagstones like someone flicking a paintbrush. Every child in Bwlch Carreg came running with buckets. For three days the trough filled, the beans came up, and Idris wept into his cap without shame.

Then the calf got bored. He turned his trunk on the postman, on the schoolmaster's good hat, on the bishop's car when it came up for the blessing, and the whole valley learned that a joke can be a kind of weather. Nobody had the heart to send him back down the pass.

On the last evening of that summer the spring woke up on its own, gurgling like a kettle. Mabel lifted his trunk one final time, a ribbon of silver went up against the dusk, and the drops hung in the air like tiny coins before falling into the trough. Idris swore the sky had been listening all along, and the goat, unimpressed, went back to eating his cap.

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