Black blackletter-style tattoo of the word Magic, with a triangle and circle symbol in place of the a and a lightning bolt forming the i, on pale skin.

Magic lettering with symbols

Lettering · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo spells the word Magic in bold blackletter-style lettering, with a solid black triangle and circle symbol set inside the a and a lightning bolt forming the i. The linework is solid black with no visible shading beyond the grey of the surrounding skin. The image is a close, straight-on photograph in black and white with the lettering filling the frame.

Lettering Lettering Triangle Circle Lightning bolt Blackletter

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sign over the wagon had been repainted so many times that the letters had grown thick as bramble, and Obed Fenwick would not let anyone touch the M. "That letter's older than the fair," he told his daughter, wiping rain from it with his cuff. "Older than me, near enough." Mabel was twelve and had stopped believing him around the time she learned to count the coins he took at the gate. She still kept the lantern trimmed for him every night, because he was her father and because the three things in the wagon's locked box made the horses shy.

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The storm came over the Pennines on the third night of the Michaelmas fair, the kind of wind that pulls tent pegs out of wet turf. Lightning forked down the hill and struck the iron wheel, and the last letter of the sign split clean along its spine. Mabel ran out with the lantern and found her father on his knees in the mud, a length of hazel in one hand and a black silk hood in the other, laughing like a boy. The glass ball lay cracked beside him, and inside it, where there had been nothing before, a small grey stone was turning slowly.

"Told you," he said. "It answers when you ask it properly." He had always said there were three gifts: a stone to call back one lost soul for a single evening, a hood to keep a man unseen by anyone looking, and a rod that won every argument it was lifted into. Mabel asked which he had used. He only smiled and pressed the hood into her hands. It was cold and heavier than silk had any right to be, and when she pulled it over her head the lantern light simply stopped at her shoulders, as if the night had decided not to look.