Black and grey geometric rhino tattoo made of hatched triangular facets, sitting on the ribs of a bare torso.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Geometric rhino on the ribs

Geometric · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A rhinoceros in profile is built from angular, faceted panels, each filled with fine parallel hatching lines. The outline is a solid black line, and the shading is achieved entirely through line density and direction, with the lightest panels on the head and the darkest on the legs. The design fills most of the frame against plain, lightly textured skin.

Geometric Ribs Animal Geometric shape Hatching

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rhinoceros came down from the hills in the first hard frost, when the ditches had frozen and the crows sat in the hedges looking hungry. Old Maud Penrose had kept the Hollow Farm for forty winters and had never once seen one, but she knew its shape from her grandfather's stories, and she knew to leave the gate open.

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It did not want the barn. It wanted the frozen field where the turnips had rotted in their rows, and it walked across the white ground slowly, its plates sliding over one another like the cut panes of a lantern. Where the light struck it, the grey lines shone and where it turned into shadow they bunched together and went dark. Her nephew Tom, who had come up from the village to help with the lambing, stood at the kitchen window and swore that the beast was drawn with a ruler and a steady hand.

Maud took her coat from the peg and went out with a bucket of barley. She set it down at the edge of the field and said nothing, because her grandfather had said nothing too. The rhinoceros stopped. It lowered its great angled head and breathed out a plume of white into the cold, and the plume hung in the air in a neat row of hatched stripes before it drifted away.

In the morning the bucket was empty and the field had a single track across it, straight as a rule, leading back toward the hills. Tom never believed her, but the gate stayed open every winter after that, and nobody at Hollow Farm ever again looked at a frost-stiff field without wondering which way the lines would run.