Black and grey fine line tattoo of a crescent with three arrows on a woman's left ribs, photographed in black and white.

Crescent and arrows on the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A small black tattoo sits on the side of the ribcage, showing a crescent shape with three arrow-like motifs at its centre-top. The crescent is shaded with stippled and hatched lines, while the arrows use thin, clean outlines. The image is black and white, with the tattoo as the clear focus against a plain background and a raised arm.

Fine line Ribs Crescent Arrow Moon Ribs

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The last sign before the salt flats was a painted crescent with three arrows fletched into its belly, and Neil Corran had been staring at it for twenty minutes before he admitted the road did not go where the arrows pointed. The tarmac ran straight on into the white, but the arrows bent left, hooked over the crescent's horn, and stopped. His father's surveying ledger, which he had carried in the glovebox since the funeral, called this the moon road and said that three arrows meant three wells, and that the wells were the only honest thing out here.

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He left the truck with the engine ticking and walked the line the arrows gave him. The heat came up through his boots. Gravel gave way to crusted clay that broke like biscuit, and somewhere ahead a radio he had left on in the cab kept fading in and out, a voice reading tide tables for a coast that was a thousand miles off. The first well was a rusted cap over nothing. The second had a bucket and a rope, the rope gone grey with age.

The third well had a tin cup on its lip and a strip of cloth knotted to the handle, faded to the colour of old bone. Under it, scratched into the concrete, was a single word in his father's careless capitals: ENOUGH. Neil stood there until the light went orange and then violet, and understood that the arrows were not directions at all. They were a warning to anyone who might drive past and keep going.

He walked back to the sign with the cup in his hand and turned the crescent round, so its horns faced the way he had come. In the morning, he thought, the shadows would fall differently, and the arrows would point home.