Black and grey dotwork tattoo of an octopus inside a hanging birdcage on the forearm, with a chain above and green foliage behind.

Octopus in a birdcage on a forearm

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A tattoo of an octopus with its tentacles curled around the bars of a domed birdcage that hangs from a chain. The design is built from fine outlines and dense stippled dots that shade the octopus body and the cage. It is shown in black ink and grey on a forearm against a background of leaves and lemons.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You find Carol Ostler beside the sandwich trays, the only person in the function room still wearing a tie as a joke. Thirty years have turned the two of you into strangers who remember each other's handwriting. She hands you a plastic cup of warm prosecco and says the thing nobody has said since the summer of 1994: "You still owe me a birdcage."

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Back then you both worked in the sixth form art block, where the lemon tree beyond the window dropped fruit onto the bins every October. Mr Tierney had brought back a preserved octopus from a trip to Whitby, and somebody, you never learned who, let it loose in the stock cupboard. It spent a week under the sinks with its arms knotted round the pipes while the caretaker swore at the plughole. The only thing that coaxed it out was a birdcage Carol borrowed from her nan's shed, hung from a length of bicycle chain by the door, and the two of you sitting very still with a bowl of cold chips.

It never went back to Whitby. It went home to the harbour in Carol's dad's van, and by then you had both decided it had been the only honest member of staff. Across the room a man in a grey suit is reading the name badges aloud, mispronouncing everyone's surname with great confidence, and Carol laughs so hard she has to put her cup down.

Outside, the car park is cold and smells of diesel. The lemon tree is still there, bent over the fence, a few hard fruit hanging on in the dark. You pick one and put it in your coat pocket, where it knocks against your keys all the way home.

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