Black line drawing of a geometric owl in flight, clutching a cluster of crystals, shown as a tattoo design on cream paper.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Geometric owl holding crystals flash

Geometric · Black and grey · Flash

A black ink line drawing of an owl with spread wings, holding a cluster of crystals in its talons. The face and chest are filled with ornamental geometric patterns, including dotted and hatched detail, while the wings use open outlined feathers. The drawing is in black ink only on cream paper, with the subject centred and the wings extending across the upper left and right of the page.

Geometric Dotwork Owl Crystal Feather Wing Geometric pattern

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Ruth, the owl was back on the sign again last night, the old white one above the shut-up motel, and I swear it had its head turned to watch the pumps the whole time. I have decided it is keeping accounts. Nobody comes down the Saltcreek road after nine now, so when headlights came up out of the dark at half two I nearly put the kettle on the floor.

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The car was a grey estate with one back door tied shut with blue baler twine. The man who got out had dust to his knees and a cloth bag held against his chest like a loaf. He asked for water, then for a map, then whether I had ever seen quartz that caught the light the way the owl's eyes did. I said my dad kept a bucket of it in the shed, rough points he had dug from the wash before the council fenced it off. He went very quiet and asked if he could see them. I did not like how fast he said yes.

Dad had a saying: never sell the thing an owl is looking at. I didn't understand it until the man went to the shed and came back with his bag empty and the bucket half full. He tipped the stones out onto the bonnet and the moon found every point. The owl dropped off the sign without a sound, wings open wide as the car, and took three of the biggest crystals in its feet like it was paying a toll.

The man stood there with his hands out, looking foolish. I laughed until I cried. Then I picked up the bucket, put the rest back in the shed, and wrote this. Come in May and bring the good kettle. Love, Mags.