Small black fine line crescent moon and sun tattoo on the side of a finger, shown in a black and white photograph.

Crescent moon and sun on a finger

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph in a polaroid-style frame shows a hand with the fingers bent, with a small crescent moon and a sun with rays side by side on one finger. The linework is thin and mostly uniform, with little or no shading. The tattoo sits near the centre of the frame against a plain light background.

Fine line Hand Moon Crescent Sun

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The last poster went up over the big top at seven in the morning, the way it had every morning since March, and Nell Pardoe stood in the wet grass counting the tent pegs she could still afford to replace. The show had always kept two faces. The matinee ran under the sun for children with sticky hands, and the late show ran under the paraffin lamps for grown-ups who wanted to be frightened a little. Her grandfather had painted a gold sun above the left-hand ticket hatch and a silver crescent above the right, and the silver had been flaking for years.

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Dougal, who had walked the high wire for twenty seasons before his knees gave out, wanted to sell the elephant trailer and the calliope and be done with it. Nell said nothing. She had the ledger open on the tailboard and the sums were not kind, but she kept coming back to the hatch, to the place where the moon had been. On the last night the council man stood at the gate with his clipboard and his umbrella, and Nell went round the back of the booth with a tin of silver enamel and her grandfather's thinnest brush.

Her hand was not steady, so she worked slowly, a finer line than she had ever drawn, curving the crescent until it sat just below the old flakes. Then she painted a small sun beside it, all rays and no fuss. The band struck up the closing waltz. Somebody in the queue laughed at the odd little pair of symbols and somebody else said it looked like a wink.

When the rain came in off the common the lamps went out one by one, and Nell climbed down from the ladder with paint on her cuffs. The council man was already walking back to his car. Above the hatch the moon and the sun faced each other across the gate, the way they had always been meant to, and for once the ledger could wait until morning.