Colour Japanese-style dragon tattoo with green scales and red flames wrapping around a person's upper thigh, with legs resting on a cream fluffy blanket.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Green and red dragon on a thigh

Japanese · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A large dragon with green scales, red fins and red flame-like details coils across the outer thigh and hip, its head and claws reaching towards the knee. The linework is bold and dark, with shading in the scales and fins. The subject lies on a cream, fluffy blanket, and only the legs and part of a white garment are visible.

Japanese Thigh Dragon Flame Scale Claw

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lamp had been dark for eleven minutes when I first saw the dragon, and I was cross about it. The wick had smoked on the Tuesday, and Harold, who was supposed to keep the log, had gone over to the mainland on the supply boat with a fever and a tin of my tobacco. So it was me on the gallery in the wind, rubbing the glass with a rag and swearing at the gulls.

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It came up out of the swell below the skerry like a rope being hauled. Green first, the colour of weed that has never seen the sun, then the red, a line of fins along its back that caught the last light and held it. It coiled round the base of the rock the way a cat coils round the legs of a chair, and its head lifted level with the gallery rail. Its eye was the size of my dinner plate and seemed, if I am honest, mostly curious.

I told it the light was my job. It blinked. I told it the lamp had to be lit before the Halcyon came past at midnight, and that Mrs Ferris in the Sound would be counting on the signal. The dragon set one hooked claw on the iron stair and regarded me the way the harbourmaster regards a late invoice. Then it lowered its head and breathed out, not fire but a warm mist that smelled of salt and cinnamon, and the wick caught on its own.

By dawn the water was flat and grey and the rock was bare. I found one red fin scale stuck to the rail, bright as a coin. It sits on my windowsill now. Harold says I dreamt it, though he has yet to come back and trim the wick. I suppose I'll ask the dragon myself the next time it passes.