Black leopard rosette tattoo across the side of a person's ribs and waist, photographed from behind.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Leopard spot tattoo on the side ribs

Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph from behind of a person's torso, showing a column of black leopard rosette shapes running diagonally across the side of the ribs towards the waist. The spots are solid black fills with clean edges and no shading, set against warm skin tones. The person wears a leopard print bra strap and leopard print shorts, and the background is an indoor kitchen with a green cup on the counter.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The power went at ten past two, and by the time Dora had found the torch in the drawer under the kettle, the alarm on the big cat house was already shrieking in its tinny way. She pulled her coat on over her fleece and went out across the wet gravel, past the penguin pool where the water had gone still as tin.

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Vashti was pressed against the back wall of the night pen, flat as a rug, her flank turned to the dark. Dora knelt on the far side of the mesh and set the torch on the concrete so it wouldn't dazzle her. The rosettes ran down the animal's side in a diagonal rope, each one a solid black shape with edges as clean as if someone had pressed a stamp into wet ink and lifted it straight away. Dora had watched her make those marks for nine years and still found herself counting them, the way her gran used to count stitches.

Vashti turned her head. Somewhere behind the admin block the generator coughed into life, the path lights stuttered on, and the animal's eyes went from green to nothing as the beam caught them. Dora stayed where she was. Forty minutes passed before the big cat stood, stretched her back into a long bow, and padded to the far end of the pen where her water bowl sat. Dora wrote the time on the back of her hand in biro: 02:58, settled.

At seven she drove home past the reptile house, where the first light was coming copper through the glass roof onto the ferns. In the car she rubbed at the ink with her thumb, but the numbers had sunk into the lines of her palm, faint and black, like a mark the wet hadn't quite lifted.

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