Black fine line tattoo of Pikachu in profile with a solid lightning bolt tail, on the inner wrist and forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pikachu outline on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A single-line outline of Pikachu in side profile, with its ears, closed eye and curled body drawn in one continuous stroke. The tail is filled solid black and forms a jagged lightning bolt shape extending to the right. The ink is black on pale skin, with no shading or colour, and the design sits centrally on the photographed wrist.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lock at Hatherby has been jammed since the first thunder, and you are the only one aboard the Wren Mary who isn't asleep. Rain drums the cabin roof. Your father's stove ticks as it cools, and the river slides past the hull, brown and fast, carrying a split crate of apples and a child's wellington toward the weir.

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Something lands on the coal bunker with a sound like a dropped spoon. It is small and yellow as a pear, with two long ears that fold and lift like a cat's. It sits in profile with its eyes shut, as though listening to the rain, and when it curls its body round its own feet the whole animal becomes one unbroken line. Its tail is the only part that doesn't bend softly. It juts out behind it, solid and jagged, a bolt cut from the storm.

You offer it a biscuit from the tin your mother kept for visitors. It sniffs, unimpressed, and then the lamp flickers and a crackle runs along the brass rail of the tiller. The creature opens one eye. You learn quickly that it is not the thunder it is hungry for but the cold metal, and that it will give back a little heat if you let it sit close. Forty minutes later the lock keeper's torch swings across the water, the gates groan open, and the barge begins to move.

By dawn the animal has gone, leaving a faint scorch on the tiller and a smell of struck matches. On the cabin window, where you pressed your finger to the fogged glass in the night, there is a single drawn line: ears, a closed eye, a curled back, and a tail that snaps to the right like a crack across the sky. You leave it there. Upriver the rain is still falling, and somewhere a small thing is shaking it off its back.

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