Two people's forearms show matching fine line black arrow tattoos with a triangular head, a cross mark on the shaft and feathered tail, placed on the inner forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Matching arrow tattoos on two forearms

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two forearms are shown side by side, each with a matching black arrow tattoo. The arrows have a simple open triangle head, a thin single line shaft with a small cross mark near the middle, and a fanned tail of short strokes. The linework is fine and even, with solid black ink and no shading, and the arrow on the left runs horizontally while the one on the right is angled diagonally.

Fine line Forearm Arrow Cross Matching tattoo Feather Triangle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit yourselves down on the bench, the lot of you, and keep your hands out of the bean rows. Have you seen the iron gate at the bottom of Orchard Lane, with two arrows bolted across it? Their grandfather forged them for a pair of boys who could not agree on anything, least of all the time of day. Amos and Tobin Pell, that was, and their father's wall ran between their garden and the Hollins' ground like a sulk that never ended.

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Every August the boys shot over that wall to see who could reach the old pear tree. Amos held his bow low and sure, and his arrows flew straight as a plumb line. Tobin shot high and wild, and his went down in the Hollins' turnips more often than it found the pear. They quarrelled three summers running, until their mother hung the bows in the scullery. So the boys took to marking their shafts instead, a thin line down the length and a small cross at the middle, so each knew where the true balance lay.

Then came the August the wind turned round from the west. Tobin's arrow sailed clean over the wall, past the turnips, and struck the pear with a sound like a knuckle on a door. Amos laughed so hard he fell into the compost heap, and Tobin, who had never once been praised by his brother, stood there with his mouth open and no word coming out.

Years later, when both Pells were grey and the wall had come down in a winter gale, the two of them sat under that same pear and shared the orchard between them. They used a length of string and one of the old arrows as a measure, and where the string crossed the shaft they drove a stake. You can still see the little iron cross by the gate, and the pear drops its fruit on the Hollins' side, which is the only fair thing that ever happened in this lane.