Black and grey horned figure tattoo on a woman's abdomen, with further tattoos visible on her upper arm and forearm, photographed from below the neck.

Horned figure tattoo on the abdomen

Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A woman wears a white cropped top printed with a red pentagram and goat head, and her jeans are ripped and printed with text. Her abdomen carries a dark tattoo of a horned, mythical-looking figure, and tattoos are also visible on her upper arm, shoulder and forearm. The image is cropped below the neck and above the knees, with the tattoos in black and grey and the focus on the midriff against a plain wall and window.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The goat-man came up the slipway the week the herring failed, and my mother swore he had been standing in the shallows since the spring tide, watching the boats come in with empty holds. He had horns that curled back like wet rope on a capstan, and his hooves rang on the cobbles in a way that set the gulls off. He asked for nothing but a lamp and a place to sit, so Harbourmaster Pell gave him the bollard at the end of the north wall, where nobody mended nets.

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He sat there three nights with the lamp between his knees. People brought him things without quite meaning to. Old Ada Fenn left a pair of her late husband's boots. The Keel boy, who had lost his brother off the Scarrow rocks, left a cracked compass and said nothing at all. On the third morning the goat-man was gone, but a rope lay coiled on the bollard step, and it had been cut clean through with a blade no fisherman carries.

My father had kept one lie for thirty years, a small one about a debt he had never repaid. That afternoon he walked down to the wall, sat where the goat-man had sat, and told the water exactly what he had done. Nothing happened that anyone could see. But the herring came back in the nets the following spring, silver and thick, and when the tide turns I still look for the lamp on the bollard, which is never lit, and the long shadow that has no need of it.

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