Close photo of a bare foot with a small fine line black arrow tattoo across the top of the foot, next to a second foot with navy toenails.

Fine line arrow on top of a foot

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A small black arrow is drawn in fine, single-weight linework across the top of the upper foot, pointing towards the toes with a feathered head and tail. The tattoo is in black ink only, with soft, even tone on the skin. Two bare feet rest on a beige carpet under warm indoor lighting, with navy polish on the toenails.

Fine line Other Arrow

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Every morning the porter at Cullby Halt walked the length of the platform with a tin of white paint and a brush worn down to a stub, and every morning he drew one arrow where the last had worn away. The arrows pointed the way out, not the way in, because the stationmaster had insisted on it. People who came off the branch line after dark were lost, he said, and lost people look for the way out before they look for anything else.

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A girl called Nell Ashdown arrived one November with a letter and no coat. The porter read the letter for her, though she had not asked him to. It said her mother had gone down to the sea towns and had not written since the spring. He did not tell her where the sea towns were. He only pointed at the arrow painted on the boards by her feet, its head sharp and its feathered tail neat in the lamplight, and said the next train north left at six.

She did not take it. She sat on the bench for three nights and watched the arrow fade under the boots of people who had somewhere to be. On the fourth night she took the brush from the porter's hook and went over every line, fine as a hair, until the arrow stood out again. In the morning he found it fresh and said nothing, which was how she knew he approved.

Nell rode south on the six o'clock with a ticket he had paid for himself. The arrow she had repainted stayed on the boards, still pointing towards the way out, and the porter went on drawing it every morning for the next forty years, though he never once walked that way himself.