Colour tattoo on a forearm of a cat-faced flying saucer beaming up two cartoon figures, with a ringed planet and red sparkle stars above.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cat-faced UFO abducting figures on a forearm

Forearm · Colour · Photo

A pastel cat-faced flying saucer hovers above a pink, sparkling beam that lifts two outlined cartoon figures. A teal ringed planet and four red sparkle stars sit in the background. The bold black outlines are filled with soft flat colour in pink, lilac, yellow and turquoise, with small highlights and shading on the saucer dome.

Forearm Cat Ufo Flying saucer Planet Star Sparkle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The saucer came in low over Skerrow harbour just as you were hosing mackerel scales off the deck, and the gulls went silent, which was how you knew something was wrong. It hung above the fleet like a dome of cream with a lilac rim, and a small white cat face peered over the top as if it had come to check the catch. Your skipper, Dougie Brack, shouted that he would not be told what to do by a cat in the sky, then ducked behind the wheelhouse anyway.

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The beam dropped pink and fizzing onto the quay. You watched it take Tam Ogilvie by the collar of his oilskin and his cousin Ross by the belt, both of them kicking like men caught in a bad dream, and up they went past the teal ringed planet that had blinked over the lighthouse all week. The red stars winked at you as though it were a joke you were meant to get.

You grabbed the gaff, pointed it at the dome and asked, very politely, what it wanted. The cat yawned, showed a row of tiny teeth and made a sound like a kettle thinking about it. You understood well enough. You tipped the whole morning's catch into the beam, box after silver box, until the hold was empty and the gulls had gone quiet again out of respect.

The cat seemed satisfied. The beam turned off like a torch, and Tam and Ross landed on the slipway with a soft thump and a great deal of pink glitter. Dougie still won't say what he saw. The glitter never came off the hull, though, and every morning since, the boats come into Skerrow sparkling like they've been out dancing.