Small black geometric fox tattoo on the inner wrist, built from straight lines and triangles with dotwork shading in some sections.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Geometric fox on the inner wrist

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small fox outline is formed from angular triangular facets, with the head, ears and body drawn as connected geometric shapes. Fine black linework is combined with stippled dotwork shading in several triangles, leaving other areas unshaded. The design is in black ink on pale skin, centred on the inner wrist against a dark surface.

Geometric Dotwork Forearm Fox Triangle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fox came into the Lantern Hall on the last night of the autumn fair, folded out of a torn page of the parish ledger, and nobody saw him arrive. Old Mrs Hatherley said he had been sitting on the rail of the bandstand since the first waltz, sharp at every corner like a collar pressed flat with a hot iron. He watched the fiddler, Abel Quint, saw the tune run away from him, and watched the young men stamp their boots out of time.

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When the fiddle faltered, the fox dropped to the boards and asked, in a voice like paper being smoothed, who would dance with him. No one answered until Nell Garrod, who kept the cloakroom and had never once missed a step, stood up and said she would, provided he kept his lines straight. The fox agreed. Abel Quint struck up again, and the two of them went round the floor in a figure of eights, the fox turning on points, Nell turning on her heel.

Every turn the fox folded the hall a little smaller. The walls leaned in and became triangles, the chandeliers became points of light, and the music came out creased at the edges. Nell kept to the straight measures and would not bend to the curve he offered, so the fox, who could not abide a rounded thing, grew thin and tired, and at last sat down on the edge of the stage with his tail tucked round his feet.

At first light the hall was an ordinary hall again, and the fox was gone. Nell found a small paper fox lying on the floorboards, its facets sharp and its shading sprinkled like dust. She kept it in the cloakroom drawer for the rest of her life, and when the fiddle ran away with a tune, she would take it out and fold its corners true.