Black linework tattoo of a lamp post, pine trees and a sun with a yellow wash, on the side of the ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lamp post and pine trees on the ribs

Ribs · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows a street lamp standing in a snowy scene, flanked by two pine trees, with a pale sun or moon behind the lamp. The linework is loose and sketchy, with grey shading on the ground and trunks. A soft yellow wash fills the sun, and the rest of the design is black and grey against the skin, with the composition running vertically along the side of the body.

Ribs Pine tree Sun Snow Landscape

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lamp by the bin store had been dead since October, and Kenny Hale had reported it three times to the council, each time getting a reference number and nothing else. On the morning the snow came he found the bulb gone black at the glass, so he stood on the step ladder with a torch in his teeth and wiped the lens with his sleeve while the flats above stayed grey and quiet.

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Behind him the pine in the forecourt had already gone white on one side. The residents' association had bought it from the garage on Ferndale Road for twelve pounds and a raffle of biscuit tins, and it leaned against the railings like someone waiting for a bus. Mrs Okafor from flat fourteen came down in her dressing gown with a carrier bag of tinsel and asked whether the lamp would be on for the carol singers. Kenny said he'd do his best, which was what he said about most things.

The new bulb came from a box in the cupboard under the stairs, still wrapped in newspaper from 2009. When he twisted it in and flicked the switch, nothing happened for a long second, then the lamp hummed and threw its orange ring across the snow, over the second pine and the dark patch where the car park met the path. Something moved at the edge of the light, a fox or the shape of one, and it stopped to look at him with the easy interest of an animal that had never once paid council tax.

Precious from the ninth floor came out at dusk with her brother's sledge and stood under the lamp. She pointed at the sky above the block, where a pale disc had come up through the cloud. "That one's ours too," she said. He told her it was the moon, and she said she knew, but the lamp was nearer. He left the switch on and walked home with the light behind him, watching the prints she made in the snow lead in a straight line toward the tree.