Black and grey ornate lotus tattoo with filigree and dotwork detail on the inner forearm near the wrist, shown with the palm facing the camera.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Ornate lotus tattoo on the inner wrist

Botanical · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A lotus flower sits at the centre of the design, with a heart-shaped motif, dots and a long vertical drop running down toward the wrist. The lines are fine and the petals and ornaments are filled with dense stippling and scrollwork. The design is rendered entirely in black and grey ink on the inner forearm, with a plain, light background.

Botanical Dotwork Forearm Lotus Flower Filigree Heart Ornament Mandala Dot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The goose had got out through the gap in the hurdle again, and by the time you reached the edge of Hollin Wood the light had gone the colour of weak tea. Your boots sank to the ankle in the bank of the mill pond. Nobody in the village went past the alders after dark, but Ada Crane had said the goose would be sitting on the pond's one bloom, and you had told her that was nonsense, and so here you were, proving it.

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The bloom was there, though it was no flower you had a name for. It sat on the black water with its petals drawn tight, filigreed at every edge like the lace on a christening gown, and a single seed-drop hung beneath it on a stem that seemed to go down and down, further than the pond could possibly be deep. Rain had beaded along the outer petals in neat rings of dots. The goose was nowhere. There was only the flower, and a small brass button in your coat pocket that you had meant to sew back on for your mother.

An old woman stood up out of the reeds, no bigger than a fence post, and said that this lotus only opened for someone who had given something up to the water. You asked what the goose had given. She laughed at you, not unkindly, and said you had already made the offer in your pocket. You pressed the button into the mud at the foot of the stem, and the heart-shaped seed split and lifted, petal by petal, until the whole pond smelled of cut lemons. The goose came paddling out of the dark, calm as a bishop, and climbed the bank beside you as if it had always known the way home.