Fine line black and grey dreamcatcher tattoo with two feathers and small curved script around the hoop, on the inner forearm near the wrist.

Dreamcatcher with feathers on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A raised hand shows a dreamcatcher tattoo on the inner forearm near the wrist. The hoop has a fine line web pattern, with two shaded feathers hanging from beneath it and small curved lettering around the upper edge of the circle. The ink is in black and grey tones against a dark green, grassy background, and a brown woven bracelet sits above the tattoo.

Fine line Forearm Dreamcatcher Feather Web Script

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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 lift in Fenwick House has been broken since March, so you climb, counting landings the way your nan counted rosary beads. On the fourteenth floor the window at the end of the walkway has a crack shaped like a spider's web, and someone has hung a dreamcatcher from the latch: a bent wire hoop wound with thread, two grey feathers swinging below it. Nobody on the estate will admit to it. Mrs Ilunga on eleven says it appeared the week the council sent the second letter about the cladding, and the pigeons have not come back to that ledge.

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You take it down because the wind keeps knocking it against the glass. The thread is knotted tight, and around the rim someone has pressed words into the wire, too small to read without your glasses. You hold it up to the light from the stairwell. The lettering curls round the edge like a bracelet, and the words are kind ones, the sort your mum used to say at bedtime. You think of the boy from flat 14C who sold his bike to pay the electric, and how he stopped waving from his balcony last winter.

You carry it up to the top floor, where the wind is strongest and the whole city shows its cranes and lit windows. You hang the hoop from the railing and sit beside it on cold concrete. Below, the lift finally groans open for someone with shopping. Above you, the feathers sway, catching nothing but air, and for once that seems to be the point.

Next morning the hoop is gone, but the boy is back on his balcony, leaning on the rail and watching the empty sky, where something has caught the light.