Black linework flash sheet of small tattoo designs themed on the number 13, including a rose, spider, skull, eye, bicycle and envelope.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Friday the 13th flash sheet

Black and grey · Flash

A photographed sheet of black ink flash drawings arranged across the page, with many small icons such as roses, spiders, skulls, eyes, envelopes, a bicycle and a coffin. Most designs use clean, uniform outlines with little or no shading, and the number 13 recurs throughout. The page is white with bold black lettering across the top reading Friday Thirteen, and the image is shot at an angle.

Rose Spider Skull Eye Envelope Bicycle Coffin Lip Cat Bow Key Feather Heart Dice Hammer Crescent moon Star

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dot Ackroyd had been at the back bench since six, drawing the same sheet of cartridge paper she drew every thirteenth of the year, and every year it came out different. The bicycle was new this time. Her nephew had ridden one off the towpath into the canal the summer he turned thirteen, and she had never quite forgiven the canal, so the wheel went on the page with its spokes drawn tight and its chain hanging like a question.

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By noon the shop bell had rung more times than it had all week. A woman wanted a spider for a brother gone to Spain. A man with grease under his nails wanted a key, no house attached, just the key. Dot never asked why. She drew what was owed: the envelope with its flap still sealed, the coffin with its lid propped open, the pair of dice both showing ones, the cat sitting on a crescent moon as if it had paid for the view.

At four a lad from the bus depot came in with his sleeve rolled up and a folded envelope in his fist. Someone had written 13 on the front in biro. He asked whether she could put it on his wrist, and he didn't say who had sent it. Dot took it from him and turned it over without opening it. She had written a letter once, in 1979, to a man she was not going to marry, and she had kept it in a biscuit tin ever since. She knew the weight of an unsent thing.

'I'll draw the envelope,' she said. 'The letter stays where it is. You'll have to take the rest to the post yourself.'

She inked the flap clean as a ruled line, put the small 13 in the corner like a postmark, and pinned the sheet to the wall beside the others. Then she went to find her glasses, because somewhere in the tin there was a stamp she had been saving.