Black and grey drawing of a compass rose with N, E, S and W markings, a vertical arrow and two hanging feathers, shown as a tattoo design on a white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Compass rose with arrow and feathers

Black and grey · Flash

A compass rose sits inside a circle, with the letters N, E, S and W marking the points. A vertical arrow runs through the centre, with two feathers hanging below it. The linework is fine and sketched, with stippled shading in the circle and feathers, set against a plain white background.

Compass Compass rose Arrow Feather

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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

The band has started the slow number for the third time, and you are still standing by the cloakroom hatch with your coat folded over one arm. Above the doors the clock says ten to eleven. Frankie said he would meet you under the balcony, north side, where the light from the ballroom falls short, but you have walked the whole floor twice and found only couples and the smell of Brylcreem and wet wool.

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Behind the hatch, old Mrs Pryce hands you a brass compass that came in with the lost property in March, its glass cracked, its needle stuck on west. She says the sailor who owned it never once got lost in his life, and that he claimed a compass was only honest if you trusted it to tell you what you didn't want to hear. You turn it over. Engraved on the back is a small arrow and two feathers, worn almost smooth, and beneath them a name you do not know.

You are halfway through deciding to leave when the lights dip and the band slides into the foxtrot you and Frankie practised in his mother's kitchen. You don't think of it as a sign. You think of it as a dance you already know the steps to, so you walk back onto the floor, past the balcony, past the potted palms, and there he is by the north wall, searching the crowd with his hat in his hand.

He doesn't say sorry. He says the bus broke down on the coast road, and you say you know, because it is written all over his face, and he laughs and asks you to hold his hat. You give him the compass instead. He tilts it, frowns at the stuck needle, and asks which way now. You tap the cracked glass, take his hand, and steer him towards the floor without needing it at all.