Black and teal crescent moon tattoo with soft brushstroke swirls and trailing dots on the forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crescent moon and brushstroke forearm tattoo

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows a black crescent moon with feathered, brush-stroke edges, curving around a thin turquoise arc. Small dots and a fine dotted line trail away from the top and bottom of the design. The black and teal ink sits on the forearm against a plain background, with a dark sleeve and grey trousers visible at the edge of the frame.

Forearm Crescent moon Brushstroke Dot Abstract Swirl

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The tide was already sliding over the bottom step when I hauled the last of the guests' trunks up to the attic at Gull Hollow, and Mrs Pelham was shouting for towels from the kitchen as though the sea had personally insulted her. I took the stairs two at a time with the wet sheets bundled against my chest. Nobody else in the house would have thought to check the boat shed, so I was the one who saw the lantern.

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Old Teague had gone out at dusk in his rowing boat to fetch the Lamberts' dog, which had swum off after a gull. He had taken no lamp. From the top of the cliff path the only light was a thin pale curve low over the water, where the moon was pushing up behind cloud, and a dark smear beside it that slanted and shifted as the wind turned. I ran down the shingle with the lantern swinging, shouting his name until the wind snatched the shouting and threw it back at me.

He was sitting in the shallows, hauling on a rope with the dog tucked under one arm. The moon came clear then, a black bow with a bright edge where the light caught it, and the spray lifted off the waves in long feathered strokes, as if someone had dragged a loaded brush across the dark. I stopped counting the seconds and simply held the lantern up. "Your mother will skin me," Teague said, and laughed.

Later, when the towels were dry and the dog was asleep in the scullery, Mrs Pelham stood at the window and said the moon looked like something drawn once and never finished. I told her the tide would turn by four. She said it always did. I went up to bed and left the attic window open, so the moon could find me if it wanted to.