Black and grey fine line tattoo of a dotted sigil with arcs and a vertical line on the side of a finger, with two silver rings worn on the hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dotted sigil on a finger

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey photograph of a hand with a small tattoo on the side of the middle finger. The design is a fine line symbol made of an arc, a crossing line and a cluster of small dots around it, with a tiny mark above on the upper finger. The image is shot close up in soft monochrome light, with two silver rings on the other fingers.

Fine line Dotwork Hand Dot Arc Line Symbol Ring

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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

The compass rose on the third page had been drawn wrong, and Marguerite Ashdown knew it the moment she saw the dots. Seven of them, scattered round the arc like a constellation someone had tried to copy from memory. Her grandfather had never been good at memory. He had been good at angles, and this one sat at a slant that no surveyor in Kent would have accepted.

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She took the ledger down to the chapel crypt on Tuesday, where the damp kept the ink from lifting, and laid it beside the brass lamp. The line ran from the arc through the cross-stroke and out to a point beyond the margin, and where it ended there was a small mark, a thumb's width above the page, like a pin pushed into cork. Nobody had told her what it marked. The parish records stopped at 1911. The tithe book stopped sooner.

At four she rang the bell-keeper, old Tobias Renn, who had kept the tower since before the war. He climbed down with his hands in his pockets and looked at the sketch for a long time without touching it. Then he said the dots were not stars at all, but the places where the drains had flooded, and that the line was the path the water had taken to the sea. He said the mark above was where the water had stopped.

Marguerite walked the path the next morning with the ledger under her coat. At the end of it, where the mark sat, she found a cellar door bricked over, and beneath the bricks, scratched into the lintel, the same arc and the same seven dots, each one counted and crossed out.