Black and grey realism tattoo of a bare tree with branches spreading out from the navel, with a moon tattoo above it on the side of the torso.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Bare tree and moon on torso

Realism · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a bare torso shows a leafless tree whose branches radiate outward from the navel, with its trunk running down the right side of the frame. A softly shaded moon sits higher on the left side of the abdomen. The tree is rendered in bold solid black linework with fine branch detail, while the moon uses grey shading and texture, and the monochrome photograph gives the whole composition a muted, even tone.

Realism Botanical Other Tree Bare tree Branches Moon

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ash at the edge of Mere Wood had dropped its last leaf the night Agnes Pell came up the lane with a lantern and a loaf wrapped in cloth. Nobody in Lower Stoke went past the stile after dark, but Agnes had buried two husbands and a goat, and she was not frightened of much that had roots.

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She set the loaf on the stump and told the tree what she wanted. Her son had gone for a soldier and not written. The tree did not answer, but its branches moved against the sky the way wet rope moves, and where they crossed the lantern light they threw shadows down onto the frost, long and thin as cracks in a cup. She waited until the cold got into her knees, then she sat on the stump and looked up. Over the bare crown a moon the colour of tallow was climbing, half of it already lost in the dark, and it seemed to her the tree had been holding it up.

Her son came home in the thaw. He had been wounded at a ford somewhere and walked the last six miles, and when he reached the stile he stopped and would not come further until she went out to him. He said a surgeon had kept him three months and he had dreamed every night of a lantern in a wood. Agnes said she had only been talking to a tree. He said it had answered him.

That spring the ash put out leaves before any other tree in the parish, and the old women said it had been wanting something to hold up. Agnes never went back up the lane. She kept the lantern on the sill, and each month, when the moon thinned over the chimneys, she set a crust on the step for the tree and counted the days until the full moon lifted off its branches.