Fine line drawing of an arrow passing through an infinity symbol, shown in black on a white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Infinity symbol with arrow

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A single continuous black line forms an infinity symbol, with an arrow running diagonally through its centre. The arrow has a feathered fletching at the upper right and a pointed head at the lower left. The design is drawn in uniform black linework on a plain white background, with no shading or colour.

Fine line Infinity Arrow

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, love, the kettle's on and nobody's coming up from the wards before three, so you'll have the time. You want the tale of Tom Ashby's arrow? Right then. My mother's uncle swore to it, and he never told a lie before breakfast. Tom was the best bowman on the Fens, could take a heron off a fence post at a hundred yards, and one November morning he loosed a shaft at a wild goose over Hatch Mere.

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The wind took it. Up it went, and round it came, a long lazy loop over the reeds, then back across the water and up again, as if it had taken a notion to the thing and liked it. Folk ran out of their cottages in their nightclothes to watch. Thirty years, they say it kept going, though I've never believed the thirty. Ten, maybe. Long enough for the babies to grow teeth and the eels to get fat. Long enough for Tom to grow old and stop pretending he didn't watch the sky.

His sister Nell came down to the mere each dawn with his bread and his tea, and each dawn she waved at the arrow as it swung past, the way you'd wave at a neighbour. She said it was the only thing in the parish that never once went in for its dinner. Tom laughed at her, but he didn't laugh the morning she came down and didn't wave, because the arrow was lying at her feet in the frost, its head pointing at the water.

So he took it up, and he found it was warm, and he put it on the mantel where it still sits, feathers up, head down, as if it had only stepped out for a minute. Nell's gone now and so's Tom. Mind your cup, love. Some nights I think it's still going round, only nobody's standing where it passes.