Black fine line tattoo of a crescent moon with a trail of small stars and dots running down the side of a person's neck.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crescent moon and star trail on the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A crescent moon sits near the ear at the top of the neck, followed by a diagonal trail of small solid stars of varying sizes, with fine dots between them. The linework is thin and crisp, shaded in black ink only, and the trail draws the eye down across the skin toward the shoulder. The photograph is taken from behind and to the side, with a plain dark background and soft natural light.

Fine line Neck Moon Crescent moon Star Dot Trail

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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

Dear Ma, the lamp at Skerry Point went out again on Tuesday, and I have to tell you the keeper blamed me, though I only trimmed the wick the way Mr Gallagher showed me in April. He says the glass is fogged with salt and nothing a boy can do about it. I have been up the tower every night since, wiping it with vinegar and a rag that smells of my father's old coat.

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The fishermen have stopped asking after the light. Instead they ask me what the sky looks like from the top, and I tell them the truth, which is that it looks the same as from the cliff path, only colder and closer. Last night, though, the cloud broke open after midnight and the whole band of stars came out, thick as spilt sugar. A crescent moon hung low over the water, so thin it looked like a fingernail paring someone had flicked away. I counted seven stars running from it down toward the harbour wall before the mist came back in.

I meant to draw them for you, the way you taught me to draw the herring boats with their sails cut like pennants. My hand would not keep still. Instead I have written down where each one sat, and I will send the paper with this letter so you can hold it up to the window and find them yourself. If the lamp fails again tonight, I will still climb, and I will keep the rag dry.

Your son, Tom