Painted pink and magenta lotus flower design with purple wash strokes and a yellow stamen, drawn as a botanical tattoo sketch on pale paper.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pink lotus flower tattoo design

Botanical · Colour · Flash

A lotus flower drawn in layered pink, magenta and purple tones, with a yellow stamen at the centre and soft petal edges. The loose, wet-looking brush strokes and purple trailing stems suggest a watercolour or ink wash rather than hard outlines. The flower fills the upper centre of a pale, cream-coloured background with the stems sweeping down to the bottom edge.

Botanical Lotus Flower Petal Stamen Stem

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lamp at Scarrow Head has been dark for eleven days, and the Trust's boat has stopped coming on Tuesdays, so it falls to you to climb the eighty-one iron steps each dusk with the paraffin tin and the wick trimmers your father left under the stairs. You keep the glass clean with newspaper and vinegar, the way he did, and you tell yourself the gulls don't mind.

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Below the landing, where the old granite quarry fills with spring tide and rain, a water lily has come up through the silt. Nobody planted it. Its leaves lie flat on the black water like dropped cards, and its bloom, pink at the rim and deepening to plum at the heart, opens before the gulls are awake. You have started timing your descent so you can watch it open. Its stems trail down into the mud in long purple loops that look like someone drew them in a hurry and never lifted the brush.

On the ninth night the fog came in thick as wool, and a coble with two lads aboard was reported somewhere off the reef. You lit the lamp by hand, the burner hissing, and turned the great lens by its brass crank until your shoulders burned. Nothing came. Then, just before four, the grey thinned and a pale hull slid past the rocks, then another. They had been steering by the light on the water below, the one bright thing the quarry held, and you realised the lamp's reflection had been falling where the lily floats.

At first light you went down. The bloom had folded for the night, but the stems had wound themselves tighter around the rock, and you counted the turns all the way back up to the door.