Traditional style colour tattoo of a pink flamingo with a sunset and palm tree panel in its body, beside a potted plant with orange and blue flowers, on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Flamingo and potted flowers on a forearm

Traditional · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A pink flamingo stands beside a grey shaded flowerpot holding a plant with orange and blue flowers. The flamingo's body contains a sunset scene with a palm tree, and the tattoo has bold black outlines. The collage shows five views of the same piece, including close-ups of the flamingo's head and the flowers, set against plain skin.

Traditional Forearm Flamingo Flower Sunset Palm tree Bird

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Platform four had no business holding a flamingo, but there it stood at twenty past seven, one leg folded like a closed umbrella, glaring down the empty line as though the 7.42 owed it money. Dorothy Pike, who ran lost property from a cupboard beside the ticket barrier, came out with her tea and stopped.

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Beside the bird sat a grey flowerpot with orange and blue blooms in it, the same pot that had sat on the top shelf of her office for eleven years, tagged in faded biro as unclaimed, plant, sundry. Nobody had watered it since the spring. The flamingo ducked its head and tapped the rim with its bent beak, twice, the way a man knocks on a door he has knocked on before.

"You're not getting on that train without a ticket," she told it. It said nothing, being a bird, but its belly caught the early light, and she saw the sunset painted inside it, orange bleeding into a blue strip of sea, a palm tree leaning at the edge as if it had been waiting a long while for someone to notice. Dorothy thought of the woman who had left the pot behind in a hurry eleven years ago, pressing a single brass key into her hand and saying the flowers would be fine.

She fetched the tag book, wrote claimed in careful capitals, and signed her name. When the 7.42 pulled in with a sigh of brakes, the flamingo stepped aboard with its pot clamped in its feet, and through the carriage window Dorothy watched the orange flowers nod on the sill until the platform bent away and there was only the sea-coloured sky.