Fine line black outline of an alien head with almond-shaped eyes on the forearm, shown in a warm-toned photo.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fine line alien head on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A single-line outline of an alien head with two almond-shaped eyes and a small nose sits on the forearm, centred in the frame. The linework is thin, even and dark, with no shading or fill inside the shape. The skin tone is warm and the photo has a yellow cast, with part of a dark fabric and a hand with painted nails visible at the edges.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The radio had been hissing for three nights before Dessie swore it was talking to us. We were two days out of Ferrol with a hold full of pine, and nobody on the Marigold Star believed in anything but the tide tables, so we gathered round the chart table and listened to the tape. Under the static there was a long tone, then two short ones, like someone tapping a spoon against a kettle.

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I had the 0400 watch, which meant I had the binoculars and the cocoa Pilar kept warm on the stove for anyone foolish enough to be awake. At ten to four a light sat low on the water off the port bow. It was no lamp I recognised, just a soft yellow glow that didn't rise and fall with the swell. I called the bridge. The captain came up in his vest, looked for a long minute, and said that if it was a buoy it was the strangest buoy he had ever seen.

We drew alongside slowly. It was a rowing boat, or the shape of one, and in it sat something with a long pale head, smooth as a boiled egg, and two dark eyes slanted like almonds. It held up a slate. On it was a single curved line and a dot. When Dessie tapped the tone back, the thing nodded and bent over the slate again, drawing a small neat question mark that was plainly meant for the lighthouse at Finisterre.

We gave it a bearing. It answered with a sound like a kettle coming to the boil, and the glow slid away towards the coast. By breakfast the sea was flat and empty. On the chart table, in the margin beside our course, someone had drawn a tiny outlined head in grease pencil, the lines so fine and even that Dessie said the captain would never let anyone rub it out.

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