Two black dotwork mandala tattoos on the inner forearms of a couple holding hands, each with a different emblem at its centre.

Matching mandala tattoos on two forearms

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two people hold hands in front of a wooden door, showing a matching black mandala tattoo on each forearm. The left mandala has a dark star-shaped emblem at its centre and the right has a white circular emblem with a dark shape inside. The mandalas are built from fine stippled dots and solid black fills, with the central emblems left as clean white negative space.

Dotwork Geometric Forearm Mandala Emblem Matching tattoo Hand

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The mill-wheel at Orrin Ford had stopped turning the winter the cogs were taken down, and nobody in Velmary would say who had taken them. Old Hesketh the miller kept the toothed iron in a sack under his bed, and every night he counted the teeth with his thumb, forty-eight of them, the same number as the year the king first asked for tithe in grain.

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His daughter Tamsin, who could not sit still and could not be told, went up the Mirrow Road alone with a loaf and a lantern. At the edge of the marsh she found a woman sitting on a white stone, drawing a circle in the mud with the end of a stick. Inside the circle was a pale round moon, and across its face ran the dark wing of a bird. The woman said the moon had been her grandmother's, and the cogs were the king's, and that both were kept in the same hill, one on each side of a door.

They walked the road together. At the hill the door stood open, and inside were rows of wheels turning without grease, and a dark iron gear the size of a cartwheel bolted to the wall. Tamsin tipped the sack and emptied the teeth across the floor. They rolled out through the doorway into the moonlight and clicked in the dust like a clock running backwards, and the great gear shuddered and was still.

When they came down the hill in the grey morning, the mill-wheel at Orrin Ford was turning again, slow and wet and sure of itself. Hesketh stood on the bank with his thumb in his mouth, counting nothing at all. The woman from the marsh was gone, leaving only a circle in the mud with a moon in it and a bird's wing, and a single white tooth lying in the centre.