Traditional style colour tattoo of a flying saucer with glowing orange rays, above the words I WANT TO LEAVE, on the upper arm.

Flying saucer with I want to leave lettering

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A flying saucer with a glossy blue dome, grey hull and red, yellow and green portholes sits centrally, with dotted beams trailing beneath it. The words I WANT TO LEAVE curve over the top and sit beneath the saucer in bold black lettering. Bright orange and yellow shading glows behind the design against pale skin, on a plain, softly lit background.

Traditional Upper arm Ufo Flying saucer Lettering Spaceship

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The light came down through the beeches every night after the church bell had stopped, and it hung over the clearing like a dish held up to a candle. Nobody in Wenlow Edge went into the clearing after dark. Old Mrs Pell said the light was a thing that had lost its road home, and her grandmother had said the same, so the village took her word for it and kept the gate shut.

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Tom Ashby did not believe in lights. He was nineteen, had a cart to mend and a sister who wanted him to stop talking about the city. One night he took the lantern and walked out past the stile to see for himself. The saucer sat in the bracken with its grey hull wet with dew, and beneath it the dotted beams ran down into the grass like the lines of a sewing pattern. Along its rim the portholes blinked red, yellow, green, and red again, patient as a clock.

He stood there until the lantern guttered. Then a door opened in the side of the hull, and a voice came out of it that sounded like his own voice from a long way off, and it said I want to leave. Tom said nothing. He had heard those words before, in the mouths of every village boy who had ever got on the carrier to Lewes and never come back. The voice said them again, slower, the way you would speak to a child who had not understood.

Tom understood. He went home, packed his one good coat, and left the lamp burning in the window so his sister would know which way he had gone. When the light came down the next night, Mrs Pell walked out to the clearing with a shawl over her head and found his lantern still warm in the grass, and beside it a pair of boots set neatly side by side. Nobody in Wenlow Edge has since asked where he went.