Black and white photo of a woman seen from behind, holding a cat, with a large chrysanthemum tattoo on her lower back and a botanical design on her upper back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Chrysanthemum tattoo on a back in black and white

Botanical · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A woman with long blonde hair is photographed from behind while holding a tabby cat on her shoulder. A large chrysanthemum-style flower with shaded petals and leaf-like linework sits on her lower back, and further tattooed lines appear higher up near the bra strap. The image is monochrome, with soft indoor lighting and the subject's face turned away from the camera.

Botanical Back Thigh Chrysanthemum Flower Leaves Cat Woman

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The frost had already taken the marigolds when Old Pell came up the lane with a sack on his shoulder and a grey cat walking at his heel. Behind the cottage the chrysanthemums were still standing, white and bronze and dark red, their heads as large as cartwheels. Nobody in Hollin Ford had ever known them to bloom so late. Pell's wife had planted them the spring she died, and she had told him, before the fever took her, that they would stay in flower until the last bell of the year had rung.

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The cat went straight to the bed by the wall and sat with its tail curled round its feet. Pell knelt beside it and began to cut. He cut the bronze heads for the widow at the mill, the red for the schoolmaster, and the white for the girl who sang at funerals, and each one he cut he laid on the path in a ring around the cat. The leaves, stiff with cold, he left on the stems, because his wife had said the leaves were the part that remembered the roots.

When the ring was complete the cat stood, stretched, and walked to the gate. Pell followed it down the lane, past the mill and the school and the chapel, and at every door he found someone already waiting on the step with a cup of something hot. They did not ask him why. They only took a flower and went inside, and by morning every bloom in the village had gone quietly brown, as flowers do when their work is finished.

Pell's cottage stood empty after that. The cat was never seen again, though some said it still sat on the wall by the chrysanthemum bed on frosty nights, looking up at the sky as if it were waiting for a bell.