Small black pentagram inside a spiked sun tattoo on the upper chest, above a blue camisole strap.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pentagram sun tattoo on the chest

Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A small black tattoo of a five-pointed star inside a ring with spiky, flame-like rays sits at the centre of the upper chest. The linework is solid black with no shading, and the ink is crisp against the skin. The frame is cropped below the neck and above the waist, with a blue camisole top framing the tattoo.

Chest Pentagram Sun Star Circle Ray

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Abernethy had been burning the bindweed for three mornings running, and the smoke kept sliding back over the wall into the glasshouse. Nell knelt on the path with a trowel and watched the flat grey plumes lean towards her as though they were looking for something.

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"It's the wind off the reservoir," her grandmother said from the doorway, though the wind had been still since dawn. She had the old brass tin of matches in one hand and a chalk stub in the other, and she did not look at the smoke at all. She drew a circle on the flagstones, then another around it, then a row of hooked rays between them, quick and careless, the way other women sign a cheque.

Nell had seen her do this before, in the frost, at the edges of the rhubarb bed. Always the same shape: a ring of flames around a five-pointed star, drawn with the point of a knife. Her grandmother said it kept the slugs off and the neighbours' cats out, and Nell had believed her until the summer the cats stopped coming and the slugs got into the peas anyway.

"Hold this," the old woman said, and pressed a sprig of rosemary into Nell's palm. "Don't let go until the rain comes, whatever it sounds like."

The rain did not come. What came instead was a warmth on the skin of Nell's throat, steady as a hand, and the smell of scorched chalk, and the bindweed, all along the wall, lifting its pale trumpets towards the sun as if it had been waiting all summer to be asked.