Traditional colour tattoo on an upper arm showing a purple horse head, a cartoon figure with round glasses and a red scarf, and red and blue flowers.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cartoon figure, horse and poppies on an arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A purple horse head with a yellow eye sits on the left of the design, beside a cartoon figure with round glasses, dark hair and a red scarf. Red poppies and blue flowers with green leaves fill the lower area and frame the composition. Bold black outlines and flat, saturated fills in purple, red, blue, yellow and green give the piece a classic traditional look.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

On the island of Hallen, where there were more sheep than people and the ferry came twice a week when the wind allowed, a girl called Ilse Marr decided she would have a horse. Her mother said there was no grass for one. Her teacher said there was no room. Ilse said she would wait, and she wore her round spectacles and her red scarf every day to show she meant it.

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The horse came in March, after a gale. It was carved from bog oak the colour of a bruise, its head higher than the dune grass, and one eye was a yellow lens that had once belonged to the lighthouse on the Skerry. Ilse found it at low tide with its nose buried in the sand. She dug it out with a fish crate and a borrowed spade. When she asked its name, the horse said nothing, so she called it Thursday, because that was the day it had arrived.

Thursday ate poppies. Every evening Ilse picked one from the red patch above the kirk and held it under the horse's nose, and every morning the flower was gone and the horse had grown a little more solid, its legs thickening into the sand. The ferryman noticed the poppies were disappearing and blamed the goats. Ilse did not argue. Her grandmother had taught her that you do not tell a horse what it is owed. You only feed it and see what it carries.

By midsummer the horse had legs, and on the last night of June it lowered its head so she could climb on. They rode out past the Skerry, past the blue flowers of the sea pinks, while the lighthouse lens in its eye turned toward the mainland. Ilse came home at dawn with her scarf tied tight and her spectacles fogged, and the horse was standing by the kirk, eating the last poppy with great seriousness.

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