Black tribal tattoo with sweeping linework across the lower abdomen above the waistband of blue jeans, with the navel visible above it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Black tribal design on lower abdomen

Other · Black and grey · Photo

A black tribal tattoo sits across the lower abdomen, forming a symmetrical design with bold, sweeping curves and pointed barbs that may suggest a winged creature. The linework is solid black with no shading, and the skin tone is the only other colour in the frame. The tattoo is centred just below the navel, with the top of a pair of jeans and the zip visible at the bottom of the image.

Other Tribal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You find the gate at first light, hanging open on one hinge, the frost on its bars unbroken except where something has dragged across them. The ewes are bunched in the far corner of the top field, breath rising in a single grey cloud, and you count them twice before you let yourself believe the number. Your father's old dog stands at your knee and does not bark. Whatever came through the hedge last night went over the wall like a shadow, and the only mark it left is a long sweep of dark print in the mud, two wings' worth of spread, pointed at the tips like a barb.

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By noon the wind has turned hard from the north, and you walk the boundary with your collar up and a coil of baling twine over your shoulder. Nobody on the farm talks about the owl that used to nest in the barn roof before the roof was mended. Your mother said it was a good sign. Your uncle said it was a nuisance that ate the mice and left their tails on the feed. You have never decided which of them was right, and you are not sure it matters now, because the thing in the mud has long toes and no owl ever made that stride.

At dusk you mend the gate with a length of wire and a fence post you split yourself. The light goes the colour of cold iron over the ridge. When you look up, a shape is holding itself against the wind above the top field, black and still, wings swept back in the same double curve as the print in the mud, and it does not come down. You stand there with the pliers still in your hand until your fingers ache. Then you go in, leave the lamp lit in the kitchen window, and keep the gate closed behind you, because some things are better watched from the warm side of the glass.