Black and grey dotwork geometric fan tattoo of stacked petal shapes and small stars on the side of a ribcage.

Geometric dotwork fan on the ribs

Dotwork · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey tattoo of stacked, fan-shaped geometric petals with dotted shading and small star accents curves along the side of the ribcage. The linework is fine and the dots build the shading inside each motif, with the design fading out toward the edges. The image is a close side view with a dark background and a dark floral patterned fabric on the left.

Dotwork Geometric Ribs Mandala Fan Petal Dot Star Geometric pattern

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the gate, love, it's been painted twice since the frost and it will have your sleeve off. Come and sit on the wall where I can see you. Now. The old house at Chandler's End had a walled garden, and in the middle of it, where the gravel fanned out like a dropped hand of cards, there was a bed of dahlias nobody was allowed to touch. Mr Ferris planted them the year the church bell cracked, in rings, one petal laid over the next, so that from the top step they looked like a peacock had stood up out of the soil and spread itself to be admired.

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Every evening when the light went, he walked the rows with a tin of dark seed and a dibber, pressing a small dot into the earth between the stems with his thumb, one after another. He said a bed wants something to hold the dark until morning. The stars came out over the wall, and he counted them against his dots and pinched a tiny silver fleck of ash wherever he had lost his place. The vicar called it foolishness. The cook called it grief, but she said it quietly, with her back to the scullery door.

The winter his wife went up to the hospital in town, the dahlias came up thin. He sat on the step with his cap in his lap and watched them not open. Then one morning in August every head had turned to face the house, all at once, as if they had been listening through the wall all year. He never told anybody what he said to them. He only ever said that the dots had been true, every one of them, and that was the end of it.