Black and grey eye inside a triangle with radiating lines on a woman's chest, shown in a mirrored photo.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Eye in triangle tattoo on chest

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A mirrored photograph of a woman's upper chest, cropped below the chin, showing a tattoo of an eye inside a triangle with fine radiating lines around it. The linework is crisp and shaded in black and grey, and the mirror effect places two matching tattoos side by side above a grey tank top.

Fine line Geometric Chest Eye Triangle Ray

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dora Quill had been the only person awake on Harrow Lane for eleven years, and she knew the sound each chimney made when the wind came off the moor. On the night the bells at St Oswin's stopped mid-peal, she climbed the iron ladder of the water tower, because the rooks would not settle and she wanted to see what they were watching.

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From the top she could see all of Millbrook laid out in its grid: the gasworks sulking under their lamps, the Co-op with its blind half down, the new bypass lights blinking red at nothing. A lamp burned in the vicarage study. Three windows along, a man in shirtsleeves stood with a brass telescope pointed not at the stars but at the square below, where a painted sign hung above the shuttered chemist's. Dora knew that sign. Albert Vane had painted it the spring the chemist's brother lost his licence, a triangle with a single eye at its centre and rays fanning out like the spokes of a cart wheel, and nobody had ever asked him to take it down.

She waited until Albert lowered the glass and looked up at her, as though he had been expecting the rooks to bring her. He called across the rooftops that the eye was not there to watch people. It was there so that the town would remember someone was always awake, even when the church bell was quiet. Dora laughed, because it sounded like the sort of thing a signwriter would say, and then she stopped laughing, because she had never once thought of herself as the one keeping watch.

She climbed down before the frost got into her fingers. At the foot of the tower she switched on the single bulb above the door and left it burning, so that anyone looking up from the square would have something to see.