Two wrists with matching fine line tattoos of a crescent moon, small four-point stars and the script words To the moon and back on the inner forearm.

Matching crescent moon and script wrist tattoos

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two wrists are shown side by side, each with the same design: a crescent moon, two small four-point stars and the script words "To the moon and back...". The linework is fine and even, with the moon filled in solid dark ink and the lettering drawn in thin black strokes. The ink is dark and appears in black and grey tones, and the photograph is framed closely on the wrists against a plain indoor background.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Moon Crescent moon Star Script Quote

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hush now, and mind the fire, because the millpond is listening tonight. You'll remember the summer the moon came down into the reeds at Hollin's Ford. Not all of it, mind, only the thin curl of it, bright as a fishhook. Nobody in Thorne Edge would touch it. Mary Pennock and her sister Ada were the only ones fool enough to wade out at dusk with their father's landing net.

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The moon cut Ada's palm when she lifted it, and the blood ran silver into the water, and from that blood rose two small stars that swam round their ankles like minnows. Mary laughed and said the moon was a fish that wanted feeding. Ada, the quieter one, said it was crying. They split it on the bank with a flat stone, one half each, and the halves cooled into crescents that fit neither girl's hand, so they wore them on the inside of their wrists where the looms couldn't catch them.

When the mill was sold, one sister went south to the coast and the other north to the moors. The old folk say that each month the moon grows back a little from one side and then the other, so it is never whole in one place at once. Hold your wrist up to a clear sky and count the stars, and you'll find two. The other pair belongs to whoever is still walking back.

Mary wrote to Ada every new moon, and every letter ended with the words she had shouted across the water that first night, to the moon and back, and then a little trail of dots for the walking. Ada never once wrote in reply. She simply went down to the ford on the waxing nights and stood in the reeds, and somewhere far off a woman with a silver scar would look up and find the moon exactly where it had been promised.