Black and grey fine line geometric arrow tattoo running along a forearm, with a diamond head, dashed shaft and triangular feathers.

Geometric arrow along a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A slim arrow runs diagonally along the forearm, with a diamond-shaped head at the wrist end, a dotted and dashed shaft with small circles, and layered triangular feathers at the opposite end. The linework is thin and even, in solid black ink with no shading, against pale skin and a light background. The composition is centred on the forearm, with the arrow filling most of its length.

Fine line Geometric Forearm Arrow Feather Diamond Dashes Circle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The keeper's girl had been sending arrows across the sound since the spring the fog came in and did not leave. Her father had taught her the code his own father taught him: a dash for the rocks, a dot for the channel, a ring for a boat that was safe. But the fog swallowed the lamp's light and nothing could be seen from the ferry, so she tied her messages to the shafts of arrows her uncle had fletched from ash and shot them from the gallery rail.

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The first ones fell in the shallows and the gulls took the feathers. She cut the fletching down and layered the vanes in triangles so the wind would hold them steady, and wrote on each shaft in tar: the tide turns at four, keep to the bell. The diamond on the head was for the iron point her uncle had fitted, so the arrow would bite into a hull's timber instead of skipping off.

On the ninth night an arrow came back over the rocks, its shaft dotted where the ferryman had scratched his own marks with a knife. It read: we are close. Lantern on. Beneath that, a ring drawn very small.

She climbed the stair and trimmed the wick until the glass ran hot, and she kept it burning until the sky greyed and the fog lifted off the water like a sheet pulled from a bed. The ferry came in on the morning tide with its deck full of people who had not expected to see land again. The arrow was still stuck in the gallery post, its feathers gone grey with salt, and nobody ever pulled it out.