Traditional style black and grey flash design of a crescent moon with a crying face beside a woman with a rose in her hair, with the words I hope you're miserable, shown on a grey background.

Crescent moon and woman with rose flash

Traditional · Black and grey · Flash

A black and grey drawing of a crescent moon with a weeping face in profile, facing a woman in profile whose hair is decorated with a large rose, a smaller flower and leaves. Four-pointed stars sit between them, and the phrase I hope you're miserable is set in script above and below the artwork, with a flower and leaves forming a banner at the base. The bold outlines and solid black shading are typical of traditional flash, printed on a light grey background.

Traditional Moon Woman Rose Flower Star Leaves Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The moon had been weeping over Marrow Bay for three weeks, and Ada Pinnock was tired of the damp. Salt crusted the sash windows of Seaview House every morning, the bread went soft in the crock, and the lodgers at breakfast kept asking whether the kippers had been left out overnight. Ada stood on the back step with a tea towel over one shoulder and glared up at the crescent hanging low above the pier, its thin face streaked silver from brow to chin.

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Her late mother had called it a gossip. Ada had called it nothing at all, which was how she had managed things since Tom walked out along the breakwater the winter before last and never came back up the shingle. The moon had watched him go and said nothing then either. Inside, the parlour clock struck eleven. She found a slate and her best chalk, and printed the words in the capitals she had learned from a copybook: I HOPE YOU'RE MISERABLE.

She carried the slate out and held it up at the sky like a bailiff's notice. The moon did not reply. It only wept a little harder, and a few drops fell on the pier with a sound like someone clearing their throat. Then, across the road, the smoke from the Carrow chimney thickened and folded into the shape of a woman in profile, roses pinned in her hair and a third flower tucked above one ear. She looked at the moon with such plain, practical pity that Ada felt her chalk hand begin to shake.

"Oh, don't you start," Ada said. She wiped the slate with her sleeve, smearing the curse into grey, and chalked a new line beneath the smudge: COME HOME FOR BREAKFAST. The moon's face crumpled and the rain stopped. In the morning the bread was crisp and the kippers were dry, and somewhere beyond the pier a bell buoy she had never heard before rang twice, as if someone had been waiting to be called.