Colour tattoo of the video game character Kirby wearing a green cap and holding a large blue sword, with three grey fairies with glowing centres, on a leg, in a traditional style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Kirby with a sword and fairies on a leg

Traditional · Other · Colour · Photo

Kirby, the pink cartoon character, wears a green and yellow cap and holds up a large blue crystal sword with a gold-centred hilt. Three grey fairies with glowing pink, yellow and blue centres float around the figure, shaded with soft greys and small dots. Bold black outlines and flat, saturated colour define the main figure, set against pale skin.

Traditional Other Sword Fairy Crystal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody in Garth Hollow believed in the fairies until the lamp went out at the bottom of Number Four. We were three hundred feet down, shoring the old gallery with props, when the grey little things came drifting out of the dark, each with a light in its middle like a coal someone had breathed on. Our overman, Dai Pritchard, swore it was gas. Then the pink one came bouncing along the rail, round as a bread roll, a green cap flopping over one eye, and Dai stopped swearing altogether.

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It didn't speak. It just puffed up and jabbed a stubby arm at the coal face, and where it pointed the rock split along a seam nobody had surveyed. Inside lay a blade of blue crystal longer than my forearm, its hilt set with a gold stone that caught our lamps and threw them back across the roof. The fairies circled it, dusting the air with soot-coloured glitter. Dai wanted it up and sold by Friday. The pink thing simply hoisted it over its head, as if it weighed nothing, and looked straight at me.

I carried it out on my back, up the cage and into the grey light of the pit head. The fairies followed, and the pink one rolled alongside, humming something tuneless. Dai met us at the top with his hand already out. I told him the sword belonged to whoever had dug it from the rock, and the fairies had said they would wait.

The pit closed the following spring. Dai never sold a single thing from that seam, though he kept a grey feather of soot in his waistcoat pocket until the day he died. Some nights, when the wind comes down off the tips, I still hear a faint chiming from the old shaft, and I still find a pink puff of wool caught on the pit gate.