Joshua tree silhouette on a forearm
Blackwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A solid black silhouette of a Joshua tree with a thick trunk and branching arms sits on the forearm close to the wrist. The shape is filled with dense black ink and has ragged, textured edges, with no shading or greys. The skin tone is neutral, and the background is a blurred kitchen appliance.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The wind had been pushing the creosote east since Tuesday, and Ada Quill said that was how you knew the water was moving under the ground. She was sweeping the forecourt of the Bright Star Motor Lodge when the surveyor's dusty van came up the track, its tyres grey with the pale Mojave silt, and she did not look up until he had cut the engine and asked her the way to the Dry Mouth.
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Tobias Renner had a map from 1911 with a blue smudge marked in pencil, and a notebook full of people who had laughed at him. Ada didn't laugh. She told him the Joshua trees had been named by Mormon settlers who thought the branches looked like a prophet lifting his arms to heaven, and that the trees had been walking toward water ever since, one slow step a century. Renner said trees did not walk. Ada said he should watch the one with the thick, crooked trunk and the arms bent like a man carrying two buckets, because it was the one that had moved closest to the lodge.
They went out at dusk, Ada counting trees under her breath and Renner counting nothing at all. The bent one stood at the lip of a shallow dip where the ground turned dark and cool under their boots, and a frog no bigger than a thumbnail called once from somewhere underneath. Renner took out his pencil to mark the spot. Ada took the pencil from him, drew a single arm in the dust, and scuffed it out with her heel.
He came back the next spring with a permit and a second van. The lodge ledger still had his name in it, and beside it, in Ada's looping hand: Water found. Not for sale. The tree was still there at the edge of the dip, its shadow long across the sand, and on Renner's map the blue smudge had been rubbed away so thoroughly that only the paper showed.
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