Colourful tattoo of a pink and yellow dinosaur with a small green figure and a butterfly, on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pink and yellow dinosaur on upper arm

Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A pink and yellow dinosaur with a open mouth and spiky back sits on the upper arm, with a small green figure and a tiny butterfly beside it. The linework is loose and sketchy, with soft, blended areas of colour rather than solid fills. The design sits across the arm with the dinosaur's tail running towards the elbow, against a plain background of a room with chairs.

Upper arm Dinosaur Butterfly Creature Plant

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The beast came up through the old drift the week after the roof came down, and nobody in Harrowby Bank could agree on its colour. Mrs Tully swore it was pink, the inside of a shell. Her son said yellow where the lamp caught its back. Both were right, the way coal dust made everything look like a bruise going off.

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It had a ridge of spikes along its spine like a row of pit-props, and when it opened its mouth it sounded like a wagon brake being wrenched. The men dropped their picks and ran for the cage. Only Nell Cargill stayed behind, because she had a jar of blackberry jam in her coat and her gran had told her that old beasts liked sweet things better than men.

She sat down on the wet stones and held the jar out. The beast came close enough that she could smell hot metal on its breath, and it licked the lid clean with a tongue as long as a bootlace. Then something small and green climbed out from the shadow of its tail, a thing no taller than a candle, and it clambered up the beast's back with a leaf for a hat. A butterfly followed, the colour of the last of the sunset, and settled on the thing's shoulder as if it had always been there.

Next morning the beast was gone, but the drift had a green smell to it, and the pithead wheel stood still for the first time in forty years. Nell said the creature had carried the sprout up to the daylight. Mrs Tully said that was nonsense. Still, there was a fresh shoot of bramble growing out of the coal heap by the lamp-room, and a butterfly asleep on the sill.