Black and grey fine line tattoo of a fairy silhouette with dots and small crosses trailing below it on the upper chest.

Fairy silhouette and crosses on the chest

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A small black silhouette of a fairy in flight sits on the upper chest near the collarbone, with a trail of tiny dots and three small cross shapes descending beneath it. The linework is fine and the fairy is filled with solid black ink, while the crosses and dots are lighter and more delicate. The tattoo is placed off-centre on pale skin, with a dark satin garment and a star pendant necklace framing the image.

Fine line Chest Fairy Cross Dot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fishwife Oonagh had counted the boats in at dusk for thirty years, and that night there were eleven where there should have been twelve. Her husband's boat, the Grey Heron, had not come round the Skerry light. She took a lantern down to the shingle and found the little one already there, a fairy no taller than a gull's foot, sitting on a wet rock and picking salt from her wings.

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The fairy said her name was Sorrel. She had been caught in the lamp's glass when the keeper's boy cleaned it, and she had flown the wrong way ever since. She had seen the Heron go onto the Teeth in the fog. "I can lead you there," she said, "but the path is not made of anything your feet know." She sprang up and let fall a trail of bright specks onto the sand, one after another, and where each one landed a small cross of driftwood rose out of the stones, the way the islanders marked their drowned.

They walked the line without speaking, Oonagh counting the dots under her breath, past the crosses and out to the reef where the sea broke white. The Heron lay on her side with her crew clinging to the mast. Oonagh hauled the first man onto the rock with a rope, then the second, then the boy. Sorrel sang the fog back out to sea so the tide could drop and carry them the last of the way to the shingle.

At first light the crosses were still standing along the shore, but the dots had gone. Oonagh found Sorrel's shadow stretched across her kitchen wall, the only dark thing in a room full of morning, and she left the door open for her. The old people say a line of small crosses appears on the sand the night before a boat is lost, and that somebody always walks it.