Colour tattoo of a cartoon unicorn with a pink mane and purple eyes, surrounded by pink crystals and sparkles, on the forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cartoon unicorn and crystals on a forearm

Neo-trad · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A cartoon unicorn with a pink mane, purple eyes and a pastel horn faces left, with a bold black outline. Below it, a large cluster of pink and purple crystals rises up the arm, shaded with lighter highlights. Small pink hearts and sparkles surround the design, and the colour ink is bright and dominant.

Neo-trad Forearm Unicorn Crystal Heart Sparkle Horn Mane

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit yourselves down, the lot of you, and mind the coal dust on that bench. You'll want to hear how the pony came up out of Scarrow Seam, because my grandfather heard it from a man who swore he'd held the lamp for her. Nobody at the top of the shaft believed him until the cage came up with its gate open and a crystal the size of a bread loaf standing in the middle of the floor, humming like a kettle.

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The owner of the seam, Mr Pryce, wanted it broken up and sold for the chapel windows. The pit lads wanted it kept. The pony, who had a horn like a spiral of barley sugar and a mane the colour of foxgloves at dusk, wanted neither, and she said so by walking straight through the lamp room and out to the slag heap. Every morning after that the heap had new crystals on it, pink as boiled sweets, and every morning the men found their pick handles tied up with ribbon.

Then the roof came down at the east face in the wet March of ninety-one, and seven men were under it with the air going thin. Mrs Anwen Tully, who kept the chip shop and had no business at the pit gate at midnight, stood at the top of the drift and sang the only song she knew, a hymn about sheep. Out of the dark came the pony, hooves ringing on the stone, and behind her rose a stair of quartz, step after step, climbing through the rubble so the men could walk out on it.

They say the stair is still in the east face, if you know where to put your hand. Go down with a lamp and a heart that isn't mean and you'll see a crystal the colour of a boiled sweet, and a small white mark on the wall where something once pressed its horn and told the rock to mind itself. Pryce never did get his chapel windows. Drink up, now. Lamp's going out.