Colour tattoo of a dreamcatcher with three teal feathers and red and yellow beads on a forearm, with grey shaded rim and black linework.

Dreamcatcher with teal feathers on a forearm

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A dreamcatcher hangs from a braided grey rim, with a fine black web of overlapping circles at its centre and a single teal bead in the upper left. Three feathers with shaded grey quills and teal tips hang below, interspersed with red and yellow beads on thread. The image is a close, slightly angled shot of the forearm against a blurred background, with the tattoo filling most of the frame.

Forearm Dreamcatcher Feather Bead Web Circle Braid

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The net had three holes the size of a fist, and the tide would not wait for Hannah to finish her supper. She sat on an upturned creel in the back kitchen and tied the last knot with the grey twine she kept for things that mattered more than fish.

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Her grandmother had taught her the old hoop: a ring of willow bound with braided hide, then a web drawn from the hoop's heart outward, circle over circle, so that no bad dream and no bad weather could slip through the gaps. Hannah made it on the galley table while the kettle sulked on the range. At the top she set one blue bead, the last from her mother's necklace. Beneath the ring she hung three jay feathers her husband had pulled from the harbour the winter he drowned, their quills shaded dark and their tips dipped in the same blue. Between them she strung red and yellow beads from the tin of odds the boats had lost over the years.

The Sarah Ann was late. The wind came up at dusk and rattled the shutters, and Hannah hung the catcher above the stove where the steam would reach it, which her mother had always said was wrong. Then she sat up with the mending and counted the circles as the night went round.

At first light the boats came in over the bar. Her son came up the path smelling of diesel and herring, stopped in the doorway and looked at the thing turning slowly over the stove. He counted the circles with his finger, the way she had taught him as a boy. "Did anything get past it?" he asked. "Nothing got past it," Hannah said, and she reached for the kettle to make him tea.