Fine line black tattoos of a ringed planet and a small rocket on two fingers of a hand resting on dark leather.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Planet and rocket finger tattoos

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A small ringed planet sits on the middle finger and a tiny rocket on the adjacent finger of a hand resting over another hand. Both designs are drawn in thin, even black outlines with no shading or fill. The image is a close, well-lit shot on a dark surface, with bright orange nail polish drawing the eye.

Fine line Hand Planet Saturn Rocket Space Finger Hand

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Tomas Yeo was on his third bad idea of the week when Mira Dunn came down the slip with a sack of old kettles over her shoulder. He had built a boat out of herring crates and wanted her to make it fly. The ringed star hung low over the breakwater every October, the one the old charts called Saturn, and he had decided a man could reach it if he had the right tin.

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Mira was the tinsmith's daughter and did not believe in stars, but she believed in tin. She beat the kettles flat on the anvil behind her father's shed and rolled them into a cone as long as a man's arm. For the fins she used the lids of the fish boxes. Tomas painted a ring of white around a copper bead and fixed it to the nose, so that anyone looking up would know which way it was going. They dragged the thing to the end of the mole on the night of the first frost and filled its belly with powder from the gunner's store.

The rocket did not go up. It hissed, turned a slow circle, and sat down in the mud at the bottom of the tide, where it stayed with its nose pointing at the sea. The harbourmaster came out with a lantern and told them they had cost the town a fortnight of good smoke. Nobody argued with him. They sat on the wet stones with their boots in the cold water and watched the real planet lift itself above the breakwater, small and pale, with its ring tilted like a cup somebody had left on its side.

Mira wears a copper ring on the finger beside her own rings now. Tomas says it is only a bead. She says it is near enough. Every October the children of Skerrow still wade out at low tide to touch the tin nose of the rocket, and they always look up first to see whether the star has noticed.