Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Mermaid in a shell-framed oval mirror on a thigh
Traditional · Thigh · Mixed · Photo
A mermaid with flowing red hair and a green tail sits on a rock in the centre of an oval frame, with a calm sea and horizon behind her in soft grey shading. The grey frame is decorated with scrolls, a scallop shell at the top, beaded edging, a starfish, and side shells. Bold black outlines and smooth grey shading contrast with the saturated red and green accents, and the design fills the frame of the photo against plain skin.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Right, sit down, the lot of you, and mind the crisps. You want the one about the mirror in the lift lobby of Harbour House, the one nobody could ever get the dust off. Mrs Vera Pell from the launderette swore the glass showed the sea even when the window behind you looked out at the car park. Shell at the top, starfish down the side, little silver beads running round the edge like a rosary somebody gave up on. And in the middle, a girl with hair the colour of a pillar box, sat on her rock with her green tail tucked under her, looking out at the water like she was waiting for a bus that was never going to come.
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Nobody paid her much mind until the winter the lift broke for six weeks and the lobby filled with the smell of wet coats. Vera went up with a bucket and a cloth, and she told the girl in the glass she was a disgrace, letting herself get so grubby. The girl didn't say a word. But when Vera came back down the next morning, the glass was clean, and there was a single drop of salt water sitting on the rock beside her, and it hadn't dried.
So Vera did what any sensible woman does. She asked the girl what she wanted. Turned out it was only a comb, lost off the harbour wall years back, now lying in a gull's nest on the roof of the Co-op. Vera fetched it. Kept fetching things for the next twenty years, bits of sea glass and a silver spoon and a ring off a fishmonger's finger. And when Vera died, they found that mirror hanging in the launderette, still spotless, and the sink under it had never once run dry.
If you wash your hands there, mind, don't pull the plug till you've counted to three. Go on. Count it.
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