Fine line black tattoo of the numerals 9 and 3/4 surrounded by small star bursts on the outer ankle.

Platform 9 and three quarters on an ankle

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A black ink tattoo of the numerals 9 and 3/4 sits on the outer ankle and heel area, with a scatter of small eight-pointed star shapes arcing above and to the right. The linework is clean and fairly fine, with solid black fills on the numerals and small dots and stars of varying size. The skin is lit by a warm, direct light against a dark background, and the tattoo is the clear focus.

Fine line Ankle Number Star

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Ivy,

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You will think I have been at the sherry again, but the kettle has just boiled and my head is clear. The eight-fifteen did not stop at Marlow Road this morning, though Mr Tattersall swears he saw it take on a porter, a grey-haired woman with a birdcage, and a boy with one shoe untied. They came from a platform that has no business being there. Between the bookstall and the last lamp, where the brickwork ought to be solid, there is a gap wide enough for a trolley, and the soot on the sleepers has dried into small eight-pointed stars that twinkle whenever the signal lamp swings.

I went to look after the last train, with my torch and Dad's old ticket punch in my coat. Nothing for an hour but the cold and a smell of hot oil. Then the bricks went soft as bread, and I stepped through with my eyes shut the way Mum taught me to cross the road. When I opened them there was a bench painted the green of the waiting room, a clock reading a quarter past nothing, and a board that said only NINE AND THREE QUARTERS in letters so black they looked wet.

Nobody there asked my business. A guard with a face like a folded map punched my ticket, and where the hole should have been there was a neat star. He said the line was not closed, only quiet, and that the platform wanted someone to keep the stars swept. So I am writing from the far side of the wall, where the lamps are kind and the cinders do not stick to your shoes.

Don't come looking, Ivy. Leave my teacup on the hook and tell Dad I have a ticket.