Black geometric arrow tattoo with stacked triangles running down the inner wrist and forearm.

Geometric arrow on inner wrist

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A vertical arrow design made of bold black outlines runs from the wrist towards the forearm. It has an upper outlined triangle, a short shaft with a small arrowhead, and a lower stacked triangle with barbs, all drawn in uniform black lines. The plain pale fabric behind the arm keeps the focus on the design.

Geometric Forearm Arrow Triangle Geometric shape Wrist

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The chart had been folded so many times that the crease off Scarrow Ness had worn through, and Maud Teague was still trying to make the lamp's bearing agree with it at four in the morning. Her father had left three sighting triangles penciled along the margin, each the same size, each pointing at the next. He had never explained them. He had only said that a true bearing has a head and a tail, and that a keeper should never trust a line that does not know where it is going.

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She went over the pencil with a steel nib and black ink, pressing hard so the strokes would survive the damp in the lantern room. The top triangle she closed twice, once for the tower and once for the cliff path. The shaft she ruled straight down the page. At its lower end she drew the barbed triangle, stacked and tight, the way he had shown her to mark a reef that shows only at half ebb. Three short marks sat on either side of the shaft like teeth. She counted them twice, as he would have.

By five the wind had dropped and the sea was grey and heavy. A fishing boat was out past the ledges with its engine coughing, and she could see its lamp losing and finding the water. She turned the great lens by hand, slowly, so the beam fell along the line she had inked and not across it. The boat's lamp steadied. It came in along the shaft, past the barbs, and into the harbour mouth as if it had been drawn there.

When the light was full, Maud dried the page with a blotter and held it to the window. The arrow pointed back at the lamp, and the lamp was pointing back at the arrow, and between them the sea lay open and unmarked. She blew on the last of the ink, folded the chart along its old crease, and left it on the sill for whoever kept the light next.