Close black and white photo of a small, solid black Leo zodiac symbol tattoo on the back of a person's neck, with hair pinned up above it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Leo star sign on the back of the neck

Neck · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows the back of a person's neck and upper back, with hair gathered up and away from the skin. A small Leo zodiac symbol sits centrally on the neck, drawn in a bold, smooth black line with curled ends. The image is black and white, with soft light falling across the skin and a plain pale background.

Neck Zodiac symbol

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lift at Carrick House stopped between the eleventh and twelfth floors with a shudder that loosened grit from the ceiling tiles. You pressed the orange button three times, because Nan always said the third press was the one that counted. Nothing happened. Beside you, Mr Pellow from flat 40 kept reading the inspection notice taped to the wall, his lips moving as if he were doing sums.

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"It'll be the cable," he said, without looking up. "When I was your age my father told me the lifts were run by a lion who lived down the shaft. You fed him wire and he turned the wheel with his tail." You told him that was daft. He only shrugged and breathed on the mirror, then drew in the fog with one finger: a loop, a second loop stacked on top, and a tail that curled back on itself like a question that had decided not to be asked.

"That's him," Mr Pellow said. "Hold the rail and tell him where you're going." You didn't want to be the sort of child who did as he was told by a grown man in a lift, but the light was flickering and the air smelled of hot metal, so you said, quietly, that you were going to the twelfth floor, where Nan was waiting with the kettle and the tin of shortbread that was always half empty.

The motor coughed. The car lurched upward and the cables began to sing. When the doors opened, the corridor smelled of frying onions and Brasso. Mr Pellow stepped out without a word, and you turned back to the mirror. The drawing had faded to nothing except the curl of the tail, which you rubbed with your sleeve until it smeared into the shape of your own hand.