Black and grey dotwork and hatched tattoo of a flying saucer beaming light over a farmhouse and bare tree, on the thigh.

Flying saucer over a farmhouse on a thigh

Dotwork · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A flying saucer hovers above a two-storey farmhouse with a chimney, a bare tree to the right and birds in the sky, all set within a dotted cloud outline. The linework uses fine hatching and stippled dots for shading, with solid black outlines and a light beam falling from the saucer. The design is entirely black ink on pale skin, arranged as a vertical composition that fills the frame.

Dotwork Blackwork Thigh Flying saucer Ufo House Tree Bird Cloud Chimney

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the gate, it still sticks the way my father left it, and don't step in the furrow by the well, that's where the ground still remembers the light. Sit down. The children always want the saucer part first, so I'll give it to you, though it was the least of what happened in that house.

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The Harrowgate place stood on the rise above the dry river, two storeys with a chimney that smoked only in the cold months, when the old timber ran short and the family burned their own floorboards. Nobody had lived in it since the Settling. Then one evening in the sixth year of the drought, the sky over the rise went the colour of a pewter spoon, and a disc the size of a barn slid down out of the cloud and hung there, humming like a wasp in a jar. The birds stopped. Old Ada Harrowgate, who had outlived three husbands and two bad harvests, stood in her doorway with a sieve of beans and did not drop a single one.

The light came down in a column as wide as the porch. Where it touched the roof the slates sang. Where it touched the tree, the bare branches leaned towards it like a crowd at a parade. Ada walked into the beam with her beans still in her apron, and she came out the other side holding a speckled egg in her palm and carrying a question nobody in the valley has managed to answer since.

They say the house still keeps that light in its attic, and on certain nights the chimney breathes out a thin silver thread. I have never climbed up to check. Some doors are better left shut.