Black moon phases tattoo in a vertical line, from crescent to full moon, on the inner forearm.

Moon phases tattoo on a forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small row of solid black moon phases runs diagonally down the inner forearm, moving from a crescent near the wrist through partial moons to a full moon and back to a thin crescent. The circles are filled with black ink and show a little shading, with no colour. The arm fills the foreground against a plain pale blue wall with a framed certificate, and the wearer's face is not in view.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Nell, the tide came in over the lower road again on Tuesday, so the carrier couldn't get through and this letter has waited three days in my apron pocket. Father says the sea doesn't keep to the almanac, but I've started keeping my own count instead, on the back of the coal ticket, a little row of ink for every night the moon shows its face above the pit winding gear. You'd laugh. The first night it was only a paring of light, thin as a fingernail, and by the Saturday it had swollen to a full white coin over the slag heaps, so bright the children could see to skip rope in the street.

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The Harrow boys came up from the seam on Friday with their faces grey as ash and nobody would say what had happened below. Mrs Pryce sat on her step with her hands in her lap until the lamps were lit. I took her a cup of tea and she said the moon was the only thing in the valley that never asked permission to leave. I didn't know what to say to that, so I drank her tea for her, which made her laugh, the first sound I've heard from her since the spring.

The moon is thinning again now. Tonight it's a curl of silver like the rim of a cup. I'm marking it down as I write, and I've drawn it the way Tom Harrow drew the seams for us in the chalk, one tiny crescent after another, so that when you come home at Christmas you can see how far we've all travelled while you were gone. Bring the good thread. I want to sew it onto my cuff so I always know what night it is, even when the sky is shut tight.

Your loving sister, Bess

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