Purple and blue dreamcatcher tattoo with feathers and a tattooed chain anklet on the ankle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dreamcatcher and feathers on an ankle

Ankle · Mixed · Photo

A dreamcatcher hangs from a chain across the top of the image, with a star-shaped web of black lines, small purple and blue beads, and a large feather trailing down. Two smaller feathers float to the right and left. The main feather is shaded in blues and purples, while the dreamcatcher hoop and web are outlined in black, and the photo shows the tattoo on a light-skinned ankle against a plain background.

Ankle Dreamcatcher Feather Chain Anklet Bead Star Web

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hoop had hung above the scullery sink for as long as Mair could remember, black thread pulled into a star with three blue beads at its heart. On the morning the fourth shift failed to come up, she took it down and carried it up the hill to the chapel yard, where the women stood in their coats with their arms folded against the wind. Nobody asked her why. The wind came off the spoil heaps smelling of wet slate and sulphur.

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Her sister-in-law Gwen had a jackdaw feather in her apron pocket, glossy and black, picked from the chapel gutter the week before. Mair asked for it. Gwen hesitated, then handed it over without a word. They had both been raised on the old stories, that a dream caught in a web would not fall through to the wrong side of the night. Mair knotted the feather to the lowest point of the star with the last of the blue wool, pulling the knot until her fingers stung.

Down the valley the winding engine began its slow turn. The cage was coming up, and the women felt it before they saw it, the iron groaning through the ground and into their boots. Mair hung the hoop on the railing of the chapel gate where the wind could reach it. The feather stirred, lifted, then settled against the wire with a faint tick, like a clock being wound.

Dai came up the lane with his cap in his hand and soot in every crease of his face. He looked at the hoop, then at his sister, and said nothing. The star turned slowly in the cold. Behind them the gate creaked, and the first voices rose from the cage, rough and ordinary, arguing about tea.