Black and grey Halloween graveyard tattoo on an upper arm, showing a black cat, two jack-o'-lanterns, a gravestone marked RIP, a cross and a skull.

Halloween graveyard scene on an upper arm

Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a Halloween graveyard scene framed in a rounded panel, with a black cat sitting between two carved jack-o'-lanterns, a gravestone inscribed RIP and a stone cross. A skull and scattered bones sit in the lower foreground. The work uses soft grey shading and bold black outlines on pale skin, with a faint reddish wash in the background.

Upper arm Halloween Black cat Jack-o-lantern Pumpkin Cross Skull Bone Graveyard

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cat was already on the wall when Margaret Pyle came up the lane with her torch, which was odd, because the cat belonged to nobody and had never once, in forty years of Hallowe'en, sat where anyone could see it. Behind her the village hall glowed like a lantern, and the reunion committee had carved six pumpkins for the porch and set them grinning at the car park.

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Inside, the old year group stood in the same clusters they had made at twelve. Tom Garrow had grown stout and kind. Susan Hebden still could not sing. Nobody mentioned the Hallowe'en of 1986, when they had dared each other to walk the churchyard after dark, and Margaret had come back alone, pale, with a stone cross pressed into her palm and no memory of who had given it to her. She had kept it in a biscuit tin ever since. Tonight she had brought it in her coat pocket.

At eleven the lights dipped and all six pumpkins blinked at once. The cat stepped down from the wall, walked the length of the hall between the trestle tables, and stopped beside the chair where Tom sat with a name card still propped in front of him. It looked up at him with eyes like wet coal until he said the thing he had never said, which was that he had been the one who ran off and left her among the graves. The cat purred. In the cloakroom the biscuit tin rattled on its shelf.

Margaret walked home with the cross closed in her fist. When she looked back from the gate, her shadow was still sitting on the hall steps, upright and patient, and it did not follow her down the lane until the lights had gone out behind it.