Traditional-style flash design of a carousel unicorn under a striped canopy, with two blue flowers and water splashes, shown in colour beside a greyscale version.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Carousel unicorn with flowers

Traditional · Mixed · Flash

The drawing shows a carousel unicorn with a flowing mane and horn, a striped canopy above and a twisted pole running down to a decorated base. Two blue and cream flowers sit on the saddle and the base, with dark droplets around the pole. Bold black outlines and coloured fills in red, pink, yellow and brown are shown on the left, and a greyscale shaded version fills the right panel.

Traditional Unicorn Horse Umbrella Flower Splash

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The customs officer at Newry wanted to know why a lorry carrying straw and a carousel pole had a unicorn strapped in the back. I told him she was a fairground horse and the horn was a matter for the council, which got a laugh from the young lad on the far side of the barrier, though not from the one holding our passports. Dad had already unlashed the canopy and folded its red and cream stripes into a blanket on the back seat. The pole was held down with two ratchet straps that had seen better decades.

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Her brass plate said Marguerite, but nobody on the fairground had called her that since Dad's father. Grandad had bought her off a closing pier in Morecambe in 1958 for the price of a second-hand van, and he'd spent a winter with a tin of paint and a borrowed brush giving her the blue flowers on her saddle and her base. The splashes round the pole were his idea. He said a horse that was going round in circles ought to look like it was getting wet doing it.

The officer asked us to open the back. Dad lifted the blanket, and there was the unicorn, pink flank catching the bulb above the loading bay, twisted horn pointing at the roof. The officer looked a long while. Then he said his nan had ridden a horse exactly like her at Portrush, and he couldn't remember the name of it, only that it had gone round so fast the whole ride smelled of hot oil and vinegar chips.

He waved us through without the search he'd been about to start. We drove south with the straps creaking and the horn reflecting the headlights in the wing mirror, like something was still pointing us home.