Colour realism tattoo of a bluebird perched on a blossom branch, with pink cherry blossoms, on the side of a person's ribs.

Bluebird on a blossom branch on the ribs

Realism · Ribs · Colour · Photo

A detailed bluebird with blue wings and head, an orange breast and a pale lilac belly sits on a dark branch with pink blossoms. The bird is shaded with soft gradients and fine highlights, while the branch and flowers are rendered with lighter pink petals and dark grey stems. The design wraps down the side of the torso, and the skin tone and soft lighting are visible around the ink.

Realism Botanical Ribs Bird Branch Blossom Cherry blossom Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The bluebird had been in the front parlour since Tuesday, and Mrs Pryce had stopped pretending it would find its own way out. It sat on the curtain rail above the piano, turning its head at the sea-light through the bay window, and each morning it left a single blossom petal on the lid, pale pink as the notepaper in the guests' writing case. Nobody at Gull Rise could say where the petals came from. The cherry in the yard had not flowered since the winter the boiler burst.

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Arthur Thorne, in the back room, had come to the coast for the air after his wife died in March. He was a retired signalman who kept to a timetable: tea at six, the cliff path at seven, the crossword after supper. He did not care for birds. He said so at breakfast, pointing his butter knife at the ceiling. 'It'll foul the curtains,' he said. Mrs Pryce said it had fouled nothing yet.

On Friday the bird flew into his room while he was shaving and perched on the brass bedrail, bright as a dropped enamel badge. He stood still with the razor in his hand. It did not sing. It tilted its head the way Marjorie used to across the kitchen when he had said something foolish. Her blue straw hat still hung on the hook behind the door, seven months untouched.

He wiped the blade on the towel and crossed to the window. The sash stuck, as it always did, and he put his shoulder to it until it gave. The bird weighed the gap, then the air beyond, then him. It went out low over the gorse, and a single petal drifted down through the light and settled on the sill, pale as the inside of a shell. Arthur left the window open all morning, and when Mrs Pryce brought up his tea she said nothing about the draught.