Fine line black tattoo of a dragonfly with a semicolon as its body, on the inner wrist and forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dragonfly with semicolon body on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo on the inner wrist shows a dragonfly drawn in a single thin black outline, with two elongated wings and a semicolon forming the body. The linework is clean and even, with solid black dots and no shading. The plain skin background and close framing keep the tattoo as the clear focus.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Harriet had the speech on eleven index cards, and by the time the registrar cleared her throat she had shuffled them twice on her knee. The marquee smelled of cut grass and warm prosecco. Across the aisle her brother was pretending the hay fever was bad, which was the only thing about the day she had not rehearsed.

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Their grandmother had spent forty years as a compositor on the Halifax Courier, setting headlines in lead type backwards so that other people's news would print the right way round. She kept a biscuit tin of spare punctuation sorts, and in the margin of every proof she pulled she drew the same small insect: two long wings, and a body made from a semicolon. When she died, the tin came to Harriet with a note in her square capitals. A dragonfly spends years underwater before it ever flies. Don't full stop anything you can still pause.

Harriet's last card was blank on the front. She had written the speech out fully the night before and then torn it up, unable to make the closing line sound like anything other than a door shutting. Now she turned the card over and found the drawing she had copied onto it, two wings, a neat dot and a tail, and she looked up at Ama in the front row with her hands clasped under her chin.

'Gran always said a semicolon means the story goes on,' she said, and her voice held. 'So this isn't the end of anything. Ama, you are going to be late for the rest of your life, and I am so glad.' The room laughed. Harriet folded the cards into her bag and went to sit down, and nobody noticed she had left the last one lying face up on the lectern, its tiny insect still drying in the sun.

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