Black and grey realism tattoo of a moon filled with pine tree silhouettes, with a thin stem below, on the upper back of a person wearing a striped shirt.

Moon with pine trees on upper back

Realism · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo shows a full moon with a soft, shaded surface and dark pine tree silhouettes across its lower half. A thin dark line extends from the base of the moon, giving it a balloon or leaf-like outline. The piece is photographed close up on the upper back, with the subject's hair and a striped shirt framing it against a pale background.

Realism Back Moon Pine tree Forest Tree

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dad had already gone up the top field with the lamp when Nell saw the moon fall into the pines. It did not fall fast. It came down the way a dropped coin rolls under a dresser, wobbling and catching the light on the frost, until it lodged in the black crown of the wood above the lower wall, its thin tail hanging over the fence like a string someone had forgotten to let go of.

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She took the sheep dog and the torch and went over the stile. The snow had a crust that broke under her boots with a noise like biscuits. Under the trees the air smelled of resin and cold iron. The moon sat in the branches of the tallest pine, pale and enormous, its craters grey as a bruise, and every few seconds the wind pushed it and it swung, the light sliding down the trunk.

Her grandmother had told her the moon was only ever borrowed. Every winter someone in the valley had to climb up and hand it back to the sky before the thaw, or the ewes would stop lambing and the river would forget its road. Nell had thought it was a story for keeping children indoors at dusk. Now she stood at the foot of the pine and understood that the string was real, and so was the knot in it.

She climbed. The bark was wet and the branches bent under her weight, and when she reached the moon her hands came away silver with dust. She picked the tail free of the needles, one twig at a time, and the whole thing rose lightly above her, as if it had been waiting to be asked. She let go. It drifted up past the frosted stars and then, with a small hum, was only the moon again, and the valley lay dark and ordinary below, and the dog was barking at the gate as if it had seen the whole thing.