Fine line black tattoo of a small bird pulling a string that holds a hanging chandelier, on the inner forearm of a person in a dark top and jeans.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Bird pulling a hanging chandelier on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small bird in flight, with its wings raised, pulls a thin line that holds a hanging chandelier-like cluster of tiny circular and droplet shapes. The linework is delicate and fine, with light shading on the bird and the ornaments. The tattoo is black ink on pale skin, placed in the centre of the forearm against a plain light background.

Fine line Forearm Bird String

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The chandelier had hung in the Miners' Institute since the year the pit went electric, and nobody in Haddock Row could remember it being dusted. My brother Tom swore jackdaws had been nesting in its brass for a decade. Then the night the roof came down at Seam Four, a bird came in through the broken skylight of the reading room, and by the time the men came up from the cage, the reading room looked like a church after a funeral.

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The bird was black with a bent beak and wings that caught the lamplight like wet slate. Mrs Ferrier, who had buried two husbands and kept every one of their letters in a biscuit tin, said it was the lamp-keeper's soul come back to see what we'd done with the place. Eli the joiner said it was a rook with ideas. I went up the ladder with a coil of rope meaning to bring the fitting down for the memorial, and found the bird had already looped a fine string through the iron hook and was beating away at it, slow as a bucket rising from a shaft.

We stood in the road and watched it lift the whole cluster clear of the ceiling, the glass droplets knocking together like pit-head bells, until it was a dark mark over the slag heap and then nothing at all. Tom said he'd seen it land on the chapel elm. He was wrong about most things, but he was right about that.

In the morning the chandelier was hanging from the bare top branch, turning in the wind, catching the first sun. The bird had gone. Mrs Ferrier said that was the lamp-keeper being paid back, and for once I let her have the last word.