Black and grey realism chest tattoo of a deer skull held between two raised hands and antlers, set against a misty landscape with a moon, across a man's chest.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Deer skull and antlers chest piece

Realism · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A large chest tattoo shows a deer skull with antlers, held up by two raised hands in the centre, with a dim landscape, clouds and a pale moon behind. The linework and shading are soft and highly detailed, with strong contrast in the skull and fur textures. The piece is entirely in black and grey ink and fills the chest from shoulder to shoulder, with other tattoos visible on the arms.

Realism Chest Antler Hand Moon Cloud Landscape Figure Fur

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift has been dead since Tuesday, so you carry the skull up eleven flights in a carrier bag from the corner shop, the antlers knocking every banister like someone trying to get in. Mr Pryce from the ninth floor sold it to you for a tenner in the car park, swearing it came off the hill road the night the fog rolled in, and you never asked how a man his age came by a stag's head. Your nan would have had something to say about it. She had something to say about the moon too.

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On the landing at six, the strip light buzzes and somebody's telly is playing a quiz to an empty room. You stop to rest the weight against the wall. The skull is lighter than it looks, all hollow bone and dried hair, and when you hold it up to the narrow window the antlers scrape the glass as if they are looking for a way out and a way in at once.

The roof door sticks, then gives. Outside, the cloud has torn open over the ring road, and the moon sits low and pale above the car park like a coin someone dropped in a puddle. You lift the skull with both hands above the parapet, the way Pryce showed you, so the moon sits right between the eye sockets and the tines catch the light. Below, the estate hums, and then all at once every flat in the block comes back on, window after window, and somewhere down on the sixth floor a woman starts clapping.

You let your arms come down slowly. The skull is just bone again, the moon is still there, and you find you don't want to go back down the stairs yet.