Traditional style colour tattoo of a grey ghost in a witch hat holding a glowing orange jack-o'-lantern, with small sparkles, on the calf.

Ghost in a witch hat holding a pumpkin on a calf

Traditional · Calf · Colour · Photo

A ghost wearing a pointed witch hat holds a carved orange jack-o'-lantern against its body, with a grey-blue sheet-like tail below. Small four-pointed sparkles and a red droplet surround the figure. Bold black outlines define the shapes, the ghost and hat are shaded in greys, and the pumpkin and face are filled with orange and yellow.

Traditional Calf Ghost Jack-o-lantern Pumpkin Sparkle Halloween

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The pumpkin had been sitting on the bus shelter bench since half past seven, and by eleven it was giving me the look pumpkins give when they know they have been forgotten. I had only borrowed it. Pip, a boy with a gap in his teeth and a torch taped to his wrist, had promised to fetch it back before the chippy shut, then forgotten entirely, which is how most promises go on Halloween.

Keep reading

So I straightened my hat, tucked the pumpkin under one arm and went looking. Cutler Lane was wet and glossy under the sodium lamps, every puddle holding a small copy of the moon. My sheet caught on a bin lid and rang like a bell. A man outside the kebab shop told me I was rubbish. I said the hat alone took forty minutes to pin on, and he did not ask what I meant.

Down by the canal I found a girl in a cardboard cape, swinging her trainers over the rail. She flicked her phone torch at me and frowned. 'You're not very scary,' she said. 'I'm holding a lantern,' I said. 'Scary is mostly commitment.' She considered that, then asked whether the candle inside was real. It was, lit at teatime by Pip's mum, and it still flickered when I walked fast.

Pip was waiting at the end of his street in pyjama bottoms, shoelaces trailing, glitter in his hair. He took the pumpkin in both hands and grinned at its grin. 'You brought him back,' he said. 'Her, probably,' I said, but he had already run up the path shouting for his mum. The girl had followed me after all. She looked at the hat for a long moment, then at the sparkles lying on the wet pavement. 'Those are yours?' she asked. 'They come with the hat,' I said.