Colour geometric tattoo of a tiger head in pink, teal and dark faceted linework, sitting on the forearm.

Geometric tiger head on forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A tiger's head is shown front-on, with pale blue eyes, a pink nose and a muzzle built from flat angular facets. The tattoo is made from solid fills in pink, coral, teal and cream, with dark slanted strokes forming the stripes. The design sits centrally on the forearm against a plain background, with a person in a white t-shirt and jeans partly visible.

Geometric Forearm Tiger Big cat Animal Head

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody in Scarrow Cove believed the tiger had come off the Gull Mary until Ruth Halloran went down the slipway with a lantern and found a crate with its slats split. The sailors swore the hold had been empty. Inside sat a tiger made of flat, careful shapes, like a thing cut from sheets of coloured tin: coral along the brow, pink at the jaw, the bay-green of the channel running down its flanks, and dark stripes slanted as if the wind had been at them. Its eyes were the pale blue of a February sky over the breakwater.

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Ruth had mended nets for forty years and knew that anything caught in a net would fight until it tired. The tiger did not fight. It asked for a pair of shears and a length of tarred twine, and it asked in a voice like a gull's, which Ruth found more unsettling than any roar. What it wanted, it said, was the harbour lamp. Every winter the lamp had gone dark over the rocks where the Gull Mary went down, and every winter a boat had failed to come home by it.

So they struck the bargain on the slipway at low water. Ruth gave the tiger a name, Mara, which had been her sister's name and was also a word for the sea in the old tongue. The tiger gave her a promise: while the lamp was tended by someone who said the name aloud at dusk, the fog would not take a boat from Scarrow Cove. Ruth cut the twine, the tiger climbed the lamp post with the patience of a cat, and the two of them kept the light together until morning.

Forty boats came home that winter. On foggy nights the children of the cove still watch the beam sweep out over the water, and they swear they can see stripes in it, slanting pale and pink across the waves. Their grandmothers say nothing about it, only lift a hand to the light as the boats come in.