Colour tattoo of a small fairy in a green dress with blue wings on the upper back, drawn in a simple cartoon style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fairy with blue wings on upper back

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A small cartoon-style fairy with blond hair in a bun, wearing a green dress, with arms raised and pale blue wings spread out. The linework is soft and the figure is shaded with light tones, with a faint lilac shadow behind the wings. The fairy is centred on the upper back against plain skin, with a dim background.

Back Fairy Wing Character

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lens at Scaur Head has been salt-blind since October, so the keeper sends you up the iron stairs with a bucket of vinegar and a bundle of old Harbour Gazettes. You count the hundred and twelve steps out loud because counting stops your knees from shaking. At the top the wind leans on the glass like a drunk man on a door, and you are halfway through the third pane when something blue crosses the lamp.

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She is no taller than a teaspoon, with her yellow hair knotted up on her head and a green frock the colour of bottle glass. Her wings are sheets of pale ice that catch the beam and throw it back across the sea. She tells you that you are smearing, that the lamp has been dull all autumn because nobody has thought to ask it what it wants. You tell her the keeper's orders are the keeper's business. She laughs, a sound like a spoon tapped on a cup, and takes the cloth from your hand.

She does not clean the glass so much as sing at it. By the time you have wrung out the rag, the lamp is burning brighter than you have ever seen it, and the beam swings out over the water where the Mary Ann is coming home short of a crew. The keeper, when you tell him, goes white, then red, then sits down on the step and says nothing at all. The boat makes harbour by midnight.

Next morning there is a single blue feather on the sill, too fine to be a gull's and too cold to be a moth's. You keep it in your tin of matches. Every October you still climb the hundred and twelve steps, and the feather is still there, and the lamp still burns like it has been asked nicely.