Coloured pencil flash design of an eye inside a triangle, crossed by a bloodied spear and a bone, surrounded by leaves and green highlights, drawn on kraft paper.

Eye in a triangle with spear and bone

Neo-trad · Colour · Flash

The drawing shows a single eye with a white lid and dark pupil set inside a yellow and red triangle with red dots. A spear with a red-tipped blade and a brown bone cross the triangle, and green leaves sit behind and around the motif. Bold black outlines frame the shapes, with a bright green halo around the whole design on a plain brown kraft background.

Neo-trad Eye Triangle Spear Bone Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The gym at Hollin Road smelt exactly as it had in 1996, of floor polish and warm squash, and somebody had strung the paper chains from the same hooks. I was halfway through my second cup of weak tea when Marcus Dunning pushed a brown folder across the trestle table and said, "You still owe us the eye."

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The folder was kraft card, soft at the corners, and inside was the sketch we had all sworn over at break time. A triangle, yellow fading to red, with a single eye in the middle that Mrs Hale had told us to draw from the inside out. Behind it leaned a spear with a red-tipped head and a bone that might have been a femur, all wrapped in leaves that Kieran had shaded in with a green felt tip so bright it bled into the paper. We called it the Watcher. The rule was simple: whoever kept the folder could never lie to the eye, and if you did, it would find you waiting at the bus stop.

Nobody believed it, and yet everybody had hidden something from it. Marcus said he had kept the folder in his drawer since Year Nine. Kieran had moved to Leeds and sent one postcard with no return address. I told them the truth, which was that I had drawn the bone and Sofia Amari had insisted on the eye, the girl who sat by the radiator and never spoke. Then Marcus opened the folder fully and the back page slid out: the old register, my name in pencil, and beside each name a tiny red dot.

The last dot, beside Sofia's, had been crossed out. She was standing by the urn at the far end of the hall, holding a paper cup, and when she looked across at me she lifted it in a small, careful toast. I understood then that she had never left the room.