Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Dot cluster and small arrow on an arm
Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo
The photo shows a bare arm with a cluster of small black dots resembling a star pattern on the upper arm, above the elbow, and a tiny arrow with a feathered tail on the forearm below the elbow. The lines are thin and crisp, and the dots are small and evenly spaced, with no shading or colour. The arm fills the frame against a soft, blurred outdoor background, with a white top on the right.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Sit down, the lot of you, before Mrs Pratt eats the last of the Bourbons meant for the raffle. You will all remember the summer we were twelve, when the stars over the reservoir wouldn't keep still. Every night they slid a little further west, and old Ada Fenn said the Hunter had quarrelled with his dogs and nobody was minding the sky.
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So Eli Marsh, who fletched arrows for the estate and had never once hit the gatepost on purpose, carried his longbow up to the top field. He chose a shaft with grey goose feathers, the ones his father had saved for the Christmas shoot, nocked it, drew to his ear, and loosed it at the cluster above the water. People say the arrow never came down. People also say it came down in the reservoir, which is why the trout have been so bad-tempered ever since.
What happened next is that the stars stopped sliding. Seven of them held still in a crooked little line, as neat as pins in a card, and the arrow hung below them with its feathered tail out like a question mark. Ada came up the hill in her nightdress, said it was the most sensible thing anybody had done all year, and then went home and ate her porridge cold.
Eli never fletched again. He moved to the coast and kept a lighthouse, and when he was old he wrote to me that every clear night he still checked the seven dots were holding. So if any of you finds the sky wobbling tonight, don't go looking for a plan. Go and find a boy with a bow and a shaft he cannot bear to waste.
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