A flash sheet of small black tattoo designs on white, including a snake, sun, butterfly, dragonfly, flower and frog, shown in a simple bold tribal-style outline.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Black tattoo flash sheet of small motifs

Black and grey · Flash

A grid of around fifteen small black tattoo designs on a plain white background, including a snake, suns, a star cluster, a butterfly, a dragonfly, flowers, a frog and a swirling ornament. The designs are solid black silhouettes with simple shapes and little internal shading. Each motif is spaced evenly so the sheet reads as a set of separate flash options.

Snake Sun Star Butterfly Dragonfly Flower Frog Swirl Mandala Rose Wave Bird

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Maud Pellow had counted the frogs on the lower stair for three mornings running, and each morning there was one fewer. Her father blamed the gulls. She blamed the new paraffin man from Berwick, who whistled on the ladder and left the hatch open to the weather. Frogs were hard to be rid of once they found a damp lighthouse, but they were harder to lose than to count.

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Up in the lantern room the sea was full of small things. Dragonflies worked the rain pools on the gallery rail, a butterfly had blown in on the easterly and could not find its way past the glass, and swallows cut the air between the light and the cliff. Maud kept a pencil stub and the back pages of the tide tables. Every drawing had to fit a thumbnail, because paper was rationed and so was her patience. She drew suns for the quiet days, a cluster of stars for the nights the lens was polished, and a snake of smoke curling off the funnel of the tender.

Her father found the book in the oil store, his thumb wet from the cloth. He turned the pages slowly and stopped at the frog with its legs folded like a tailor's rule. "That's the one that's been eating the flies," he said, and for once he was not angry. He tore the page out, pressed it flat under the tide table, and told her she could have the rest.

The next morning there was a real frog on the third step, sitting as if it had paid for the place. Maud left it alone. She wrote the count in the margin of the tide table, one, and beneath it drew a small black sun.