Large black and grey back tattoo of a gothic night scene with bats, a moon, a silhouetted couple, a tower and twisted trees, with small red flowers.

Gothic night scene across a full back

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A full back piece shows a gothic night scene with bats flying over a large moon, a silhouetted couple standing on a hill, and a spiral-topped hill. A tower, twisted trees, a pale face on the lower left and ornate scrollwork fill the rest of the back. The shading is detailed and mostly black and grey, with small areas of red flowers and warm skin tones behind the ink.

Back Bat Moon Couple Silhouette Tower Castle Tree Hill Spiral Face Flower Scrollwork

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ewe had been at it since dusk, and you had been kneeling in the straw so long that the cold had worked through your jeans and into the bone. Through the half-door the moon hung over Crooked Hill like a coin someone had dropped in the snow, and the bats that roosted in the granary eaves had come out early, stitching black across its face.

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Your grandfather called the church tower on the ridge the Lantern, though nobody had lit it since the war. Its shadow fell down the lower field and reached the yard, where the hawthorns along the boundary bent their arms towards the barn like old men warming their hands. Beyond them the sheep track curled round the hill in a spiral, and at the top of it, where the frost made everything silver, two figures stood very still together, looking down at you.

You had thought the twins from Pargeter's farm were still in Leeds. You had thought a lot of things at two in the morning. The lamb came all at once, slick and grey, and lay in the straw without moving, and you rubbed it with a sack until your palms burned, and nothing happened. When you looked up again the figures on the ridge had lifted their hands, one of them slowly, the way you would wave to someone across a frozen pond, and you found that you were waving back.

The lamb coughed at half past three. You carried it into the kitchen wrapped in your coat and set it by the range, and outside the red hips on the hedge showed through the frost like paint spilt on a white sheet. The ridge was empty by then. You told yourself it had only been the moon making shapes, but you left the lamp lit on the sill all the same, and in the morning you found two sets of small boot prints going up the track and not one coming back.