Watercolour-style tattoo of a cartoon sea witch with purple hair, red lips and octopus tentacles on the outer thigh.

Cartoon sea witch with tentacles on thigh

Thigh · Colour · Photo

A cartoon sea witch with purple hair, closed eyes, red lips and a purple gown stands with one arm raised, her lower body trailing into curling octopus-like tentacles. The black outlines are fine and loose, while the purple, blue and red fills are soft and washed out with blended edges and light shading. The design sits across the outer thigh and the figure is centred, with the tentacles spiralling down and around the leg.

Thigh Cartoon character Octopus Tentacle Woman

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lamp at Skerrin Point has not been lit by a sober keeper since March, so it is no surprise to find the woman waiting on the wet rocks below you when you climb down with the paraffin tin. She does not wave. She lifts one arm slowly, the way a landlady lifts a glass to a regular, and the water about her knees goes violet as her gown spreads across the weed like spilt dye. Her hair stands up off her head in soft, unhurried curls. Her eyes stay shut, as if the sight of you is beneath her notice.

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Her offer is simple. Last winter the Mary Ellen went onto the Carrack with nine men aboard, and she has been keeping them in her hem ever since. Leave the lamp dark for one night, she says, and she will give you back the youngest. You tell her the lighthouse board in London would have your certificate for that, and she laughs, a low sound like a boat dragged over shingle. Her tentacles lift from the rock and curl round your boots, unhurried, almost fond.

You do not take the bargain. You climb back up the seventy-one steps, trim the wick until the flame stands clean, and watch the beam sweep the black water until your eyes ache. By the second bell the tide is slopping things onto the lower steps: a sea boot, a grey wool cap, a sleeve torn at the cuff. Each one is carefully placed, as if someone is counting them out for you. You understand then that she never wanted the dark. She wanted to see whether you would come down to her.

You go down at dawn with a lantern you do not need. The rocks are bare. On the bottom step lies one purple glove, dripping, its fingers curled as though it is still reaching up towards the light.