Colour tattoo of a cartoon blue pony with a rainbow mane and tail, a rainbow cutie mark and a small heart, shown on skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cartoon rainbow pony tattoo

Colour · Photo

A cartoon pony with a light blue body, rainbow mane and tail, and a small rainbow and heart mark on its flank is shown in full colour. The forms are outlined in a slightly darker blue with soft, smooth shading and bright pastel highlights. The pony fills the centre of the frame against plain skin with a dark vignette around the edges.

Cartoon Rainbow Mane Heart

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The generator coughs behind the dodgems and the carousel is already turning, though the operator has gone to his tea. You are nine, or near enough, and the ponies on the Tinsley Brothers' rounds have been repainted so often their manes are thick as icing. The one you want is the pale blue one at the back, with a rainbow sprayed across her flank like a bruise that decided to be pleasant. Mr Tinsley calls her Dustbin Dora because she sits lowest on her pole, but the card by her saddle says Sorbet, and you have decided that is her proper name.

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Every evening you wait until the last punter leaves, then walk the ground stroking Sorbet's painted neck and telling her about school and the girl who took your pencil case. The lights go off one row at a time until only the stars are left above the Waltzer. Then you hear the brake on the big wheel release, though nobody is turning it. You creep behind the lorry where the caravans sleep, and there she is, stepped down off the platform, her hooves leaving small wet prints in the grass. Each print holds a glimmer the colour of sherbet.

She does not speak. She lowers her head so her mane spills across your hands, and the rainbow strands come away soft as ribbon. You understand they are a map, each one running out past the showground, over the ring road, towards a paddock behind some town you have never visited. There, you suppose, a field of ponies is waiting for a child who once looked after the lowest horse on the carousel when nobody else bothered.

In the morning Mr Tinsley is swearing at the generator. Sorbet is back on her pole, facing the wrong way for the wind. Her flank has a new little heart beside the rainbow, bright as paint still drying, and when he asks who touched her, you just shrug and keep one pale blue hair folded in your pocket.