Cartoon fire spirit and soot sprite on ribs
Neo-trad · Ribs · Colour · Photo
The tattoo shows a red and orange flame creature with wide white eyes and an open mouth, hugging a brown log with visible wood grain and rings at the cut end. A small black fuzzy soot sprite with white eyes and a dangling line sits to the lower left. Bold dark outlines, smooth colour gradients and small dark dots around the flame define the design, which fills the side of the ribs against plain skin.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The stove on the narrowboat Wren had sulked since the thaw, spitting grey smoke into the cabin, and Dora Pike blamed the ash pan long before she blamed the creature living in it. Cinder, the lock-keepers called him, though he hated the name. He was a fire spirit no taller than a cat, all flicker and shoulder, with two round white eyes that bulged whenever a log was damp and a mouth that flew open to complain about it.
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'Hold on to that one,' she said, shoving a split ash log through the hatch. He wrapped himself around it the way a drowning man grips a plank, and the wood hissed and wept sap. Down in the flue, something black and fuzzy stirred. Pim, the soot sprite that came with the boat's old coal, unhooked the thin thread dangling from its belly and dropped onto the grate. It always counted rings on the cut ends of logs, out loud, because someone once told it rings were years.
'Forty-one,' Pim announced, its white eyes wide. Dora ran a thumb over the pale circles and went still. Ash from the tree that shaded her father's mooring at Hatch Bend, felled the spring he died. She had meant to burn it on the coldest night of the year, not on a Tuesday in April. Cinder's flame shrank to a blue bead. 'You don't have to,' she told him. 'Nobody's asking.' He shook, sparks jumping off him like startled moths.
She set the log on the brick shelf above the stove, where it would dry and keep, and the flame settled back into a steady orange. Pim climbed onto the rim of the hatch and let fall a little rain of soot onto the lino. She swept it up without complaint, the way you do for something that has decided to stay.
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