Colour tattoo of a cartoon raspberry with green leaves and a stem on the lower abdomen, just above a denim waistband.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cartoon raspberry with leaves on the lower abdomen

Botanical · Other · Colour · Photo

A cartoon raspberry with a small stem and two green leaves is tattooed on skin, with closed-eye and mouth details drawn in dark red linework. The berry is shaded in several reds and pinks with soft highlights, and the leaves use bright and darker greens. The tattoo sits centrally in the frame, with the top of a denim waistband and white fabric visible below it.

Botanical Other Fruit Leaves Stem Cartoon face

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Brannock had been hauling the wrong cargo up the Hollin Pass since dawn, a wooden crate of raspberries lashed to the mule, and the mule had views on it. Every bend of the track the animal stopped and looked back at him over its shoulder. The crate was meant for the inn at the summit. Somewhere below the last stunted larch, one berry had worked a loose slat free and settled itself on the rim with its eyes screwed shut against the wind, its small mouth pursed in an indignant little line.

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"Out you come," he said, and reached for it. The berry grumbled, a low sound like a kettle thinking about it, and pressed its lips tighter. It informed him that it had been picked from a bramble at Sallow Gill and had not agreed to become jam, pie, or anything else an innkeeper fancied. Brannock pointed out that the innkeeper was paying good coin. The berry said the innkeeper could grow his own.

So Brannock sat down on the wet stones with his bread and cheese, and after a while he offered the berry a crumb of the cheese, which it ignored with great dignity. They watched the cloud shadows slide across the far slopes. The berry said it had been ripe for other people since midsummer and was tired of it, and Brannock, whose knees had been complaining since Whitsun, said he understood that better than he'd like.

He left it on a flat stone beside the old cairn when he went on, tipping the crate so the rest rolled down to the mule's side of the load. The next morning, the innkeeper's wife counted the berries and found them one short, which was no great loss on a mountain. Brannock never went back that way to check, but the cairn's moss had a small red face pressed into it, eyes still shut, and two green leaves tucked up around its chin like a blanket.