Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Fox tattoo on a forearm
Forearm · Colour · Photo
A fox sits in profile with its head raised and its bushy tail curled around its body. The loose black linework is combined with orange, red and yellow washes that fade into the skin, giving a sketchy, painterly finish. The fox is centred on the forearm against a plain white background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Dear Nell,
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The rain has been coming sideways down Hallam Market since Tuesday, and Mr Okonkwo's awning has sprung another hole over the Cox's apples, so I've been sitting under the cloth of the fish van with my back against the crates. That's where I was when the fox came. She walked straight up the middle of the aisle as if she owned the stalls, rust-red going nearly orange where the wet had soaked her, and stopped by the bins of wet sprouts to look at me over her shoulder.
Nobody else seemed to see her. The man selling phone cases walked right past. I thought she'd be after the mackerel, but she sat down on the wet cobbles, tail curled round her paws like a scarf somebody had dropped, and lifted her chin to the grey sky as though she were waiting for the weather to make up its mind.
I don't know how long we stared at each other. Long enough for the rain to soak through my cardigan and for Mrs Ferris to shout across the aisle that the sprouts were a pound a bag, not two. When I looked back the fox had gone, but there were prints in the puddle by the bins, small and neat, and one of the rotten plums had been turned over so its good side faced up.
I've decided I'll stop worrying about the awning. Come up at Easter and I'll show you the spot. Bring your wellies.
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