Small fine line black crescent moon tattoo with a simple face on the upper arm of a woman with a long braid, seen from behind.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crescent moon tattoo on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A woman with blonde, ombre hair in a loose side braid is photographed from behind, with her back to the camera. A small crescent moon with simple facial details is tattooed in thin black linework on her upper arm. The background shows a grey room and a window, with the tattoo as the clear focal point in the lower left.

Fine line Upper arm Crescent moon Moon Face Braid Blonde hair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Half past four at Skerrick, and Nell Ashby counted lanterns on the mole the way her father had taught her, one light for each hull. Eleven boats, eleven lights. The twelfth, the Marigold, sat dark because Eli Tarrant had not yet come down from the chandler's with his diesel receipt.

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The moon hung low over the breakwater, thin as a paring knife, and to Nell it always looked like it was pulling a sour face. Her gran used to say the moon kept its own accounts and was never generous with the sea. Nell had mended nets on that pier since she was nine, and she knew the water's moods better than most men who fished it. Overnight the wind had backed to the north-west, and the swell was lifting under the pier steadily, like something asleep and not quite dreaming.

Eli came running with the receipt flapping from his fist. Along the mole the other skippers were already casting off. Nell stepped onto the wet rail of the Marigold and told him the fleet should wait. He laughed at her, then looked up. The moon had slid behind a bank of cloud, and when it came clear again its thin mouth was set straight and hard. Eli had sailed under that face for thirty years. He went quiet, then leaned out over the water and shouted the boats back in.

The squall came across the bay at six, white as bedsheets on a line. By noon the mole was empty except for gulls and the hooks where Nell had hung the nets to dry. Eli cut a crescent from a biscuit tin, drew a face on it with a marker, and nailed it above the wheelhouse door. Every morning after that he touched it before he cast off.