Four black and grey photographs of fine line geometric tattoos showing arrows crossing overlapping circles, placed on the upper arm and forearm.

Fine line arrows and circles on arms

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

This collage shows four close-up photographs of fine line tattoos of arrows passing through overlapping circles and small dots. The linework is thin and precise, with a few arrows drawn with feathered or chevron tips and some circles drawn as broken or dotted arcs. The tattoos are in black ink with grey tones on pale skin, and each photo is framed differently, with the arm running diagonally or vertically through the composition.

Fine line Geometric Upper arm Forearm Arrow Circle Dot Line Triangle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Right, sit closer, the fire's good for another hour. You want to hear how Nell Garrow shot the arrow through the three rings, do you? Then mind the gap in the hedge, for the wood's always listening.

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Every autumn the village hung three iron hoops from the great oak at the wood's edge, one inside the other like the rings a pond makes when a stone drops, and every lad who fancied himself tried to send a shaft clean through all three. Nobody managed it. The hoops swung in the wind and the wind had opinions of its own. Nell was only the fletcher's girl, and she spent the summer cutting goose feathers into chevrons at the tips, sharp as a crow's tail, and talking to nobody.

On the last evening of the fair, with the lads drunk and the crowd thinning, she drew her father's bow and did not aim at the hoops at all. She aimed at the small black dot in the gap between them, the place the rings could never hold. The shaft went through the outer ring, through the middle, through the inner, and stopped quivering in the bark exactly where the dot had been. Someone swore. Someone else began to weep, because the carved name beside that spot was their own brother's, and the arrow had found it as if it knew the road home.

I'll not tell you what the village made of that. Some say the oak still bears the arrow, some say it was never there. But if you walk the hedge tonight with the wind in the east, you'll hear a bowstring singing low, and you'll know Nell has not yet finished her aim.