Black and grey dreamcatcher tattoo with hanging feathers on the side of a woman's ribs, her long hair falling over her face.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dreamcatcher tattoo on the side ribs

Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A woman in a black low-cut backless top stands side on, with her long dark hair covering her face. A dreamcatcher with a circular web and feathers hanging below it is tattooed along her side ribs, angled down towards her waist. The tattoo uses grey shading and dark outlines against pale skin, with a warm, soft-focus background.

Ribs Dreamcatcher Feather Web Hair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The web had been Ada's idea, though she never admitted it to the men on the pier. Three weeks at the kitchen table in Castlebay, a hoop of bent willow, waxed linen pulled taut across it, knots tied so tight her thumbs went white. Her brother Iain called it daft. A boat that size, going out past the Sound in February, needed a proper net, not a bit of string and a few feathers.

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The Morag Rose went out anyway on the third of March, Iain at the wheel and the glass dropping. Ada watched from the harbour wall until the hull was a grey tick on grey water. Before he left she had hung the dreamcatcher from the hook above the wheelhouse window, gull and heron feathers turning slowly in the draught, and told herself it was only the sort of nonsense her gran would have scolded her for.

The weather came in from the west by mid-afternoon. The radio at the chandlery crackled with reports of seas breaking over the bar, and nobody would meet her eye. Then, near dark, Iain's voice came through, steady as a kettle, saying the lamp was lit and the lines were holding. When he walked up the pier the next morning he had salt crusted in his beard and a look she had not seen on him before. He said that in the worst of it he had watched the web swing and catch the spray, the water beading on the knots and running off as if it had somewhere better to be.

That evening Ada unhooked the dreamcatcher to wash the salt from it. Wedged in the lowest loop was a gull feather that had not been there before. She turned it over in the lamplight and, rather than pick it out, she tied it in place.