Black and grey flash design of a stippled full moon above the script words Fly me to the moon, shown on a plain light background with no body placement visible.

Full moon with script lettering flash

Realism · Black and grey · Flash

A stippled, shaded full moon sits centred above the handwritten script line Fly me to the moon on a plain pale grey background. The moon is rendered in dense dots and greys with darker patches for the maria, giving it a realistic, engraved look. The composition is simple and symmetrical, with generous empty space around the moon and text.

Realism Lettering Moon Script Lettering Phrase

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Every evening since the spring thaw, Tilly Marsh took a cup of barley water down to the stile at the edge of Hollin Wood and asked the moon to come and fetch her. Her mother said the moon was too far for any bird to carry a girl, and her father said the moon had never once answered a Marsh in three hundred years, so Tilly kept her wishes to herself and her cup filled to the brim.

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Agnes Wrenn kept bees in the hollow beyond the stile and was the only soul in Hollin who spoke to Tilly without sighing. 'The moon is a grey stone,' Agnes said, scraping wax from her fingers. 'Pitted all over with the thumbprints of people who reached for it and missed.' She poured the barley water over the hive roots, which was an odd thing to do with a girl's offering, and then she pointed at the oak by the stile. 'A thing that is only high is not the same as a thing that is far. Go up by the branches.'

So Tilly climbed the oak that night with her skirts knotted and her knees skinned, and when she reached the fork where the trunk split like a wishbone, the moon hung level with her face. Fly me to the moon, she said, and felt foolish saying it. The dark patches were not stains but seas and old scars, and the light on the surface was made of fine dots, close as frost on a window. She sat there until her hands went numb and the owls in the wood began their talking.

She came down at first light with bark in her hair and told no one what she had seen. The next full moon she left the cup on the stile again, and the moon, which had never once moved closer in all of Hollin's history, seemed to hang a little lower over the oak, as if it had heard her and was considering the climb.