Three photos of a black geometric arrow tattoo with chevron tips and fletching on the inner forearm, shown from different angles.

Chevron arrow tattoos on forearms

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

This collage shows three photographs of the same style of arrow tattoo on a forearm, with a shaft running vertically or horizontally and chevron-shaped arrowheads and fletching. The linework is solid black with some areas filled in, and the ink has no colour. The compositions vary: two close vertical views on the left and top right, and a wider horizontal view along the bottom.

Geometric Forearm Arrow Chevron Dot Collage

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You will want to rush the fletching, the way every boy does in his first month. Don't. Mr Haddon cut those goose feathers into three chevrons at the nock end, and he never once let a customer watch him do it. Hold the quill steady against the glue pot and count the three before you press.

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The summer you turned fifteen, the Ashby shoot ran three days, and the lads from the mill towns came with their longbows and their bragging. You stood at the butts with your own shafts, the ones bound with the double chevron Haddon taught you, and the wind came off the reservoir sideways. Your first arrow went wide into the hay. Your second clipped the edge of the straw target and skittered off. Nobody laughed. Mr Haddon only tapped your quiver and said the feather does the arguing, you only hold the bow.

On the third round you let the breath out slowly, the way he showed you. The shaft rose, dipped on the crosswind, then straightened as if someone had ruled a line under it. It struck a finger from the gold, and the crowd turned to look at the chevrons at its tail, which fanned out like three small roofs pointing back the way it had come.

Pull that arrow from the straw and mark it with your thumbnail, one dot above the nock and one below, so you know it is yours. Then walk home and tell your father it was the feathers, not the boy.