Black and grey tattoo of mountains, mist and pine trees inside a diamond frame on the upper arm, with two small birds in the sky.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Mountains and pine forest in a diamond on upper arm

Geometric · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A diamond-shaped frame holds a landscape of snow-capped peaks, rolling mist and a row of tall pine trees, with two birds flying in the sky. The linework is fine and the mountains and trees are built up with soft grey shading and stippling. The piece is entirely black and grey on pale skin, and a small partial outline is visible at the bottom edge of the photo.

Geometric Upper arm Mountain Pine tree Forest Bird Mist Landscape Diamond

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hall still smells of floor polish and the same orange squash it always did, and Dennis Hale is telling you about his mortgage before you have got your coat off. You nod and let your eyes slide past his shoulder to the tall windows, where the car park ends in a black wall of trees and, above it, the long shoulder of Calder Fell.

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You drew that fell for Mrs Ruthven when you were fourteen, in the back of a geography exercise book, because the worksheet asked for a landscape and you could not be bothered with a river. You made the peaks sharp and the mist soft, and then, because nobody had told you not to, you put two birds in the sky. She wrote in red pen beside them: Why are these here? You wrote back: Because it looked empty. She laughed at that and kept the page.

Kath Doyle finds you by the squash table and says you always promised you would climb it. You say you meant to. She says everybody meant to, and then she passes you a brown envelope that has been folded in four and rubber-banded twice. Inside is the page, the pencil gone silver at the edges. One of the birds has been rubbed out by someone's thumb, and the other is still turning towards the margin as though it has somewhere better to be.

When you go outside the mist has come down off the fell and swallowed the pines one row at a time. The hall lights are the only thing you can still see clearly, and you stand in the car park holding the envelope, counting the trees you cannot see.