Black and grey realism tattoo sleeve on an upper arm and forearm, showing a falcon head, the Eye of Horus, a queen's portrait and a pharaoh's face.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Egyptian themed sleeve with falcon and Eye of Horus

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A full sleeve in black and grey shows a falcon head beneath a sun disc, a large realistic Eye of Horus, and a woman's portrait in a headdress. Separate close-up panels on the right show a pharaoh's gold-style mask and a jackal-headed figure, all with smooth shading and strong contrast. The collage presents the sleeve from several angles against a dark background.

Realism Upper arm Forearm Egyptian Eye of horus Portrait Headdress Sleeve

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The crate came up from the docks with the wrong label on it, and Dilys Crane signed for it anyway, because nobody else was awake at two in the morning to refuse it. Under a fold of brown linen lay a coffin lid no longer than a child's sledge, its paint gone to ghosts. A falcon's head still flared beneath a sun disc at the top, its beak worn pale where a hundred years of hands had touched it. Someone had left the eyes until last, the way apprentices always are.

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Dilys had restored painted wood for nineteen years and knew the trick of it: you mix the old pigments by feel, you go slow, and you never trust the first colour that looks right. The ledger in the back office said the lid had come from a merchant's house in Thebes and been sold twice before the war, once to a collector who kept greyhounds and once to a vicar who kept nothing at all. The ledger did not mention the jackal on the side panel, its long ears laid flat, its mouth open as if it had been caught mid-bark.

She painted the Eye of Horus on a Tuesday night with a sable brush no thicker than a hair, the white of the eye first, then the black line sweeping out towards the temple like a thumbprint of kohl. The lamp hummed. Somewhere in the basement the boiler knocked. When she stepped back, the eye was looking at her, and she told herself that was the varnish.

In the morning the lid lay face up as she had left it, but the jackal had turned its head towards the door, and there was a fresh smear of black on the cuff of her cardigan that had not been there when she went home.