Compass rose sleeve with blue watercolour splashes
Neo-trad · Forearm · Mixed · Photo
A compass rose sits at the centre of an arm sleeve, drawn in fine black linework with grey shading. Faded map lines, printed text fragments and a small anchor fill the background, and loose blue watercolour splashes run across the forearm. The arm is shown against a plain black backdrop, with the sleeve filling most of the frame.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The sea came up over Carrick in the year the lighthouses went dark, and the people who stayed learned to read the water instead of the sky. Old Mab Teague kept a compass rose painted on the lid of her chest, and every morning she turned it with one finger before she went out to the drowned orchards.
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Her grandson Tobin wanted a boat. She told him the sea had no interest in boats that did not know where they were going. So he walked to the salt flats, where the old charts were pinned under glass, and copied the faded lines of a coast that no longer existed. He came back with ink on his cuffs and a question. Which way is home, when home is under the water?
Mab laid his copy over the chest lid. The blue splashes ran where the tide had marked the chapel wall, and the anchor sat where the harbour bell used to hang. She said the rose never pointed north. It pointed at whatever you had set down and could not carry. Tobin asked what that was. She tapped the anchor and said the answer was heavier than any boat.
They rowed out the next morning over the roofs of the village, and Tobin let the anchor go on the bell tower. It caught. He hauled until his palms split, and what came up out of the green dark was a small iron bell, its clapper still tied with a length of blue wool. Mab rang it once. The tide fell a foot, and the road home stood up gleaming in the water.
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