Small black fine line power symbol tattoo on the inner wrist of an open palm, with a red checked sleeve at the bottom of the frame.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Power symbol on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A palm-up hand with fingers spread against a dark background shows a small tattoo of a power symbol, a broken circle with a vertical line at the top, on the inner wrist. The linework is thin and uniform in solid black ink, with no shading. The tattoo sits low in the frame and is the only point of ink, with a red checked cuff at the bottom edge.

Fine line Forearm Icon Circle Line Wrist

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the third stair, it talks back. Now you'll want to hear about Mrs Pellow's switch, because that's where the trouble started, the winter the poles came down along the coast road. Every room at Seaholly Boarding House had a small round switch set into the wallpaper, and Mrs Pellow, who kept them, would not have lodgers flicking them on and off like cattle at a fair. Each one had a short stroke on top for on and a ring around it, which she said was the sea going round so nothing ever really stopped. She'd sit in the scullery with her tea and her ledger, listening to the lamps tick through the ceiling, counting them the way other women count rosary beads.

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The storm came in off the Atlantic on the feast of St Piran, and every bulb in the house went out at once. Lodgers came shuffling down with candles and nightshirts. Young Tom Hosken, who had a cough and a wife in Penzance, stood at the foot of the stairs swearing he hadn't touched a thing. Mrs Pellow didn't answer. She walked to the wall beside the front door, pressed the switch with one finger, and held it there until the whole house gave a long low hum and every lamp came back together, like a congregation standing up.

After the funeral, Tom swore that switch was warm to the touch. He said that every night at the turn of the tide, the lamps in the empty rooms ticked on one after another, then off again, in the order she used to count them. The lodgers in Room Four say they hear a woman humming under the floorboards. I've never heard it myself, but I keep the house the way she kept it, and I never leave the front room dark.