Fine line dreamcatcher tattoo with two feathers and a small arc of script on the inner forearm near the wrist, with a woven bracelet above it.

Dreamcatcher and feathers on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A dreamcatcher with a circular web of thin lines hangs two feathers on fine strands below it. A small arc of tiny script runs around the upper right of the circle. The linework is delicate and mostly uniform, shaded in soft dark grey with no colour ink, set against a blurred outdoor background with a patterned bracelet above the wrist.

Fine line Forearm Dreamcatcher Feather Web Script Circle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tom, The lens came down on Tuesday, in pieces, and Mr Ashby from the Trinity House office stood in the lantern room turning his cap in his hands as if it were a funeral. I held the brass ring while the men lifted the last of the panes. You would have laughed at me. All I could think of was Mam's dreamcatcher over our bed in Porthcurno, its fine thread crossed into a web to catch the bad dreams before they reached the pillow.

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Fine lines, though, is what I keep coming back to. The old optic was a web of prisms, hundreds of little facets that bent the lamp into one long reach across the water, and every night for thirty-one years Father wound the clockwork and kept the glass clean enough to see his own face in. Nobody asked me to keep anything of it. Last week, though, I found a grey feather caught in the gallery railing, split at the tip, and I put it in my pocket before I could think better of it.

Yesterday I bored a hole through the rim of that brass ring, the one with Father's motto scratched round its edge in letters no bigger than rice, KEEP THE LIGHT TRUE, and I tied the feather to it on three strands of fishing line. Mr Ashby thought I had lost my wits. Maybe I have. The ring turns in the wind off the point and the feather spins beneath it like a small, stubborn sail.

I hung it on the hook where the lamp used to sit. When the Newlyn boat rounds the point tonight, it will find no light at all, only the dark and one grey feather turning on its thread, and I like to think that is still a kind of signal. Write soon, and tell me whether the city has any dark you can actually sleep in. Your loving sister, Nell.