Black and grey realism butterfly tattoo on the upper arm, with a trail of fine line geometric shapes descending below it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Butterfly and geometric shapes on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A shaded butterfly with detailed wing patterns sits on the upper arm of a person wearing a grey top, with the wings in soft grey tones. Below it, a diagonal trail of small fine line geometric outlines, including a triangle and polyhedron-like shapes, fades toward the elbow. The plain white background and even lighting keep the focus on the tattoo.

Realism Geometric Upper arm Butterfly Geometric shape Triangle Wing

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tomas,

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The Michaelmas fair pulled into Sudbury on Tuesday, and you would not believe the state of the ground by the river. We pitched between the dodgems and a man selling hot chestnuts from a cart with one wheel. I have spent three evenings wiping mud off the crane-claw machine, and Mother's old canvas is holding, mostly.

Something odd happened on Thursday. A lad came to the ring-toss with a fistful of coppers and asked if I would take a bet on his number. He wanted the big twenty-sided die from the prize shelf, the one with the cracked face that nobody ever wins. I told him it was rigged, which it isn't, and he laughed and said that was why he liked it. He rolled a twenty, then a fourteen, then gave up and bought me a cup of tea instead, which I thought was sweet.

The thing that stayed with me was the drawing he showed me on the back of a ticket stub. A moth shaded soft as ash, its wings banded like old silk, and a little trail of shapes running off beside it: a triangle first, then faceted solids, each smaller than the last. He said they were the dice he had lost count of, rolling them out of his pockets on every fairground since he was nine. Honest or tall tale, I cannot tell you.

I keep thinking the moth was the last shape, not the first. Anyway, the fair leaves Saturday. Write back before then, and tell Bea the goose is still stuck in the wagon.

Love, Nell