Black and grey realism tattoo on a forearm showing a moustached man in a high collar, a crow and full moon above his head, and a Victorian house among trees below.

Man's portrait with crow, moon and house on forearm

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey portrait of a man with a moustache and high white collar, with a crow perched on his head and a full moon behind it. Below the collar, a dark wooded scene frames a large multi-storey house with bay windows and a porch. The face has fine stippled shading and a glitch effect of broken horizontal bands across the eyes and nose, while the moon and house use dense dotwork and smooth grey tones.

Realism Dotwork Forearm Portrait Man Crow Moon House Tree Moustache Collar

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Ida Pennock had not expected the crow to be waiting on the gatepost when the cab turned up the lane, and she said so to the driver, who only shrugged and tipped his cap at the house. Harrowgate Lodge stood in its ring of larches the way a held breath sits in a chest, every bay window dark except one on the upper floor, where a lamp burned behind a torn blind.

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The lodger was a cartographer named Edmund Sayle, who had come to survey the boundary of the estate and had not come down since Tuesday. Each morning Ida carried up his tray, and each morning it came back with the toast untouched and the tea gone cold in its cup. On the fourth day she found the door unlatched and the room empty except for a sheet of paper pinned to the wall with a hatpin. It was a plan of the house, drawn in fine stipple, and every window had been crossed out with a single stroke of ink, all but one, which had been gone over so many times the nib had torn the paper.

She understood then that the house was not the thing being surveyed. The clock on the landing had stopped at the hour the cab arrived, and when she pressed her face to the glass, the moon hung low over the larches, swollen and pocked like an old coin. Down in the lane, the crow had left the gatepost and was perched on the shoulder of a man in a high white collar, who stood very still, looking up at the house as if he had only now found the right window to count from.