Tattoo of the Cheshire Cat's teal eyes and toothy grin emerging from torn skin on the side of the ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cheshire Cat grin torn into skin on ribs

Ribs · Mixed · Photo

A dark cat face with glowing teal eyes and a wide grin of white teeth shows through a ragged tear in the skin, with red edges that suggest torn flesh. The shading is smooth and dark, creating a three-dimensional illusion of depth inside the opening. The tattoo sits on the side of the ribs, and a hand holding a white cloth is visible at the left edge of the frame.

Ribs Cheshire cat Torn skin Grin Teeth Eye

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

They had agreed to meet at the Wyvern on the Saturday, thirty years after the Hollin Road school shut its doors, and by eight the back room was thick with wet wool and bitter. Maureen Tully was first to notice the cat. It sat on the mantel above the dartboard, grey as a dishcloth, and when Dennis Vane said something about the head teacher's cardigan, it kept grinning long after the rest of it had gone quiet.

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Nobody took seriously the story from when they were eleven, about the cat that lived in the gap under the assembly hall stage. Miss Ormerod called it a draught. Dennis had reached into that gap once and come out holding a brass button that belonged to no one in the school. Now the cat's teal eyes found each of them in turn, and its teeth showed white in the dark wedge of its mouth, as if it had been waiting for someone to notice it was still counting.

Maureen fetched the old register from her handbag, its cover soft as bread. Twenty-six names. She read them out one by one, and each time she said a name the grin stretched a little wider, until the mouth seemed to run the whole length of the mantel. Twenty-seven had sat in that class photograph. Everyone looked at the empty stool at the end of the bar, the one Tommy Pask had always been given because he was too small for the front row.

Dennis set a pint on the stool and said nothing. The cat's grin narrowed to a thin pale line, the way a door closes, and the room smelled suddenly of chalk and wet plimsolls. Nobody mentioned the cat again that night, though Maureen swore she saw its tail flick once as they went out into the rain.