Black and grey fine line tattoos of a flying saucer and a ringed planet with small stars on the inner wrists of two hands raised together.

Matching flying saucer and planet wrist tattoos

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two inner wrists are shown side by side, each with a small linework tattoo surrounded by scattered stars and dots. The left wrist has a flying saucer with a domed top and a row of portholes, while the right has a ringed planet with a line of stars around it. The lines are thin and uniform on a plain, lightly lit background, and the image is greyscale.

Fine line Forearm Flying saucer Planet Star Space Ufo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Brother Edwin had kept the night log at Saint Aldhelm's for thirty-one years, and in all that time the sky had never once argued with him. So when Sister Marta came up the tower stairs with a lantern in one hand and a tin of biscuits in the other, saying the moon had looked wrong over the kitchen garden, he did not put down his pen.

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"Wrong how?"

"Lumpy. Like it had a dent in it." She set the biscuits on the lectern. "And something came off it. Low and slow, with lights round the middle. Went over the apple store and didn't make a sound."

He wrote it down anyway, under the date, between the frost and the bell count. Then he drew the thing beside it, a flat dome with a row of round windows, because that was what the log was for. Marta leaned over his shoulder and snorted. "You've drawn a pudding basin."

The next night she returned with a second lantern and a sheaf of her own paper. "If it's coming back, it'll want a planet to steer by." She drew a ringed globe in the margin and scattered stars around it like spilt sugar. Edwin said Saturn was no navigation aid. She said neither was a pudding basin. They argued until the bell for matins, and neither mentioned that the two drawings matched, each waiting in the margin for the other.

When the ledger went to the archive in Carlisle, the archivist found the last entries in both their hands: a saucer on one page, a planet on the facing one, and beneath them a line in Marta's writing that read, simply, still watching. Edwin still checks the window after compline, and sees only frost on the kitchen garden and the small, patient light of his own lantern.