Fine line forearm tattoo of a long black stem ending in a green feather-like motif with a blue eye, topped by a small triangle with an orange wash.

Feather and triangle on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows a long, sweeping black line that rises up the forearm, with a small outlined triangle at the top and a green teardrop shape with a blue circular eye near the middle. The linework is thin and mostly unshaded, while the triangle and the feather motif carry soft watercolour-style fills in orange, green and blue. The design runs vertically down the centre of the forearm against a dark background.

Fine line Forearm Feather Eye Triangle Line

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mervyn had tied the last knot before the rain came in off the harbour, and the kites on his stall were already sagging like wet washing. Nobody bought kites in the rain, but Ada Cotterill came down the slipway anyway, her boots squelching, asking for the one with the feather.

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It hung from the back hook, a long brown string with a single peacock quill bound to its tail, the eye at its tip catching what little grey light there was. Mervyn had painted that eye himself forty summers ago, his father watching over his shoulder and saying an eye was the only honest thing you could put on a kite, because it told the wind where it was going. He unhooked it and felt the line slide through his fingers, thin as a hair and twice as stubborn.

"It's for my brother," she said. "He's never flown anything." Mervyn wrapped the spool in brown paper, and while the rain drummed on the tarpaulin he showed her how to hold the triangle sail up to the sky so its orange edge caught the last light. When she let out a few yards the string hummed, a low note like a cello bow drawn slowly.

When she left, the wind had turned, and the kite she'd tied to the railing lifted free and went up over the wet sea wall, its green eye looking back at the stall. Mervyn stood in the drizzle with his hands empty and found, to his surprise, that he was smiling. Forty years of selling kites, and he had never once watched one leave.