Black Kokopelli figure with feathered headdress playing a flute, set against a red and orange circle, tattooed on skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Kokopelli figure over a red sun

Mixed · Photo

A solid black Kokopelli silhouette with a feathered headdress and a flute stands in front of a red circle edged with orange. The figure has bold, smooth outlines and flat black fill, with no fine shading. The red and orange sun shape sits behind the figure and gives the composition a simple, centred look against the skin.

Sun Circle Silhouette

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Now sit down on that crate, the one with the nail sticking out, and mind your skirt on it. Yes, that's the one. Hush and listen, because the dust is thick tonight and the dogs have stopped barking, which means something is coming up the road. Back in the summer of fifty-three, when Caliche Wells had not seen a cloud in fourteen months, the Harlan boys dug a well so deep they hit nothing but Tuesday, and the whole town stood round the hole with their hats in their hands.

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That was the summer the hunched fellow came over the ridge. He had a bundle of reed on his back, a flute cut from a stalk of cane, and a headdress of feathers that stood up like smoke off a grass fire. Nobody asked his name. Mrs Pruitt gave him a jar of peaches, and he played her a tune so sweet she cried into the peaches. Then he walked out to the red mesa where the sun goes down behind the old stone ring, and he sat himself down right in front of it and played, and the sun seemed to sit down with him.

He played for three days. The Harlan boys, who had been fighting over a shovel, stopped and listened. Dust settled on the porch rails. On the third evening a cloud the colour of a bruise came in low and sat on the mesa, and the first drops fell on the flute man's shoulders, and he laughed like a boy. Nobody saw him leave. There were only his footprints, which climbed the rock and went off the edge where there was no path.

So when you hear that flute on the wind, Ruthie, you put down whatever you're carrying and go and stand in the yard. Don't chase him. He'll only take the rain somewhere else. Now hand me that dipper, I'm parched, and I've told you the whole of it.