Flash sheet of black crescent moon tattoo designs with stars, swirls and ornamental linework on a white background, with no body placement shown.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crescent moon tattoo flash sheet

Blackwork · Black and grey · Flash

A flash sheet of about fifteen black crescent moon designs on a white background, some plain and solid, others filled with swirling ornaments, dotted textures, stars and sparkles. Several designs include a sun, a face in the moon or a sparkle cluster, and one sheet label reads BLUE MOON with the code TS002. The linework is bold and high contrast, with solid black shapes contrasting against fine ornamental detail.

Blackwork Dotwork Moon Crescent moon Star Sun Swirl Sparkle Ornament Flash sheet

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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

Mr Okonedo's knife was still in the drawer when I took over the back room of the shop on Harbour Street, and so was the sheet of stencil paper with fifteen moons pencilled on it, numbered in his small square hand. Number nine had been crossed out. Beside it he had written BLUE MOON and underlined it twice, as if the name were an instruction.

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Nobody came in asking for number nine. Customers wanted the plain crescents with a single star, the ones that sold to nurses and bus drivers, or the ornate ones with curling vines they showed me on their phones. I cut them all with the same care. In October a woman from the lifeboat station stood at the counter and said her grandad had always told her the moon only ever showed one face to the sea. I did not know what to say, so I cut her a stencil of the sparkle moon, with its stars scattered down the curve like spilt salt.

When the sheet was nearly empty I found the crossed-out design underneath, traced faintly in carbon. It had a small sun in the hollow of the crescent, not a face, and a line of script I could only read at an angle: the tide turns at the third sparkle. I cut it that night, slowly, the blade slipping on the horn where the ornament thinned to a hair.

In the morning the stencil lay on the bench, and beside it sat a small black crescent I had not drawn, its inner edge lined with stars I did not remember cutting. Mr Okonedo's knife had been sharpened. I left the door open to the wind off the harbour and waited to see which way the tide would turn.