Black and white drawing of a sun with a solid black circle and wavy, flame-like rays, with thin outlined rays between them, shown as a tattoo design with no body placement.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Black sun with flame-like rays

Blackwork · Black and grey · Flash

A stylised sun drawn as a solid white disc surrounded by bold black flame-like rays that curl and taper outwards. Thin outlined rays sit between the solid ones, adding contrast in line weight. The image is entirely black and white, with the design centred on a plain white background.

Blackwork Sun Ray Flame

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dearest Winifred, the sun has not shown its face since Tuesday, and Mrs Pargeter has retreated to the parlour with her knitting and her grievances. The guests at Seaview are restless. Mr Oakes asked me this morning whether the lighthouse had gone out, and I told him the lighthouse was as steady as ever, only the sky had lost its nerve.

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I have been thinking of Father's old almanac, the one with the picture of the sun on the cover, its rays curling out like licks of candle flame. He used to say the sun was only a fire that had learnt manners. The thin rays, he said, were the ones that reached out over the water first, to see whether the boats were coming home. I sat on the back step last night, and the faint lines of cloud above the bay looked exactly so.

This morning the wind turned, and Tom from the bakery came up the hill with a fish box under one arm and news under the other. The Mariner's Rest had lost half its chimney pots in the gale, but the Pelham girl had pegged every bedsheet in the house along the railings, and they flapped against the grey like a row of little white moons. Mr Oakes laughed so hard he had to sit down on the front step.

By noon the cloud had torn clean across, and the light came through in long black fingers on the sea. I went down to the front in my apron and stood there with the wind in my hair. You will laugh, but I thought of you, and of how you always said the sun was a hot-tempered thing that only shone when it felt like it. Come in June, dear. The room over the kitchen is yours. Your loving sister, Edith.