Black line drawing of a crescent moon dreamcatcher with feathers, beads and a woven web, shown as a tattoo design on a plain white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crescent moon dreamcatcher line drawing

Black and grey · Flash

A black outline drawing of a crescent moon with a woven web pattern inside it, hung with a row of beads and several feathers on thin strands. The linework is even and medium weight, with the feathers and web filled in by simple repeated curves and dots. The design is shown in black on white with no shading, and it is centred with the moon at the top and the feathers falling below.

Crescent moon Dreamcatcher Feather Bead Web Moon

Find an artist for this

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

The generator coughs somewhere behind the dodgems, and you count the coins in your apron for the third time because Marguerite still hasn't come back from the pub with the float. The wind has got under the canvas of the stall. Above your head the dreamcatchers swing on their fishing line, a row of crescent moons bent from willow, each one strung with a web so fine it looks like breath on glass.

Keep reading

Mrs Harker made them in a caravan at the back of the Wimborne field, and she never sold one without the same speech. The web catches the bad dreams, she would say, and the feathers let the good ones drift down. Then she tied the beads on, counting them under her breath, because she said an odd number was bad luck and an even number was for the dead.

A man in a donkey jacket comes to the counter just after the last ride stops. He wants one for his daughter, who has been waking at three and standing in the doorway saying the house is full of people. He doesn't haggle. You give him the smallest, the one with seven beads and two grey feathers, and he asks what the web is for, and you find yourself repeating Mrs Harker's words without quite meaning them.

When the field is dark you sit on the stall step and tie a loop of red thread through the lowest bead, as she showed you, for luck and for remembering who made it. Then the wind drops and the beads knock together like a rosary. At the gate, a figure in a green coat is walking very slowly towards the lights, the float tin held against her chest like a sleeping cat.