Colour tattoo of a prism splitting light into a rainbow on the upper arm, with stippled dotwork shading in the triangle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Prism and rainbow on an upper arm

Dotwork · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A teal and dark grey triangular prism sits on the upper arm, with a thin white beam entering its top edge and a band of rainbow light leaving its lower right side. The top of the prism is shaded with fine stippled dotwork that fades into smooth teal, and the rainbow bands are solid and vivid. The design is centred on the arm against a plain skin background, with a dark sleeve and a brick wall behind.

Dotwork Geometric Upper arm Rainbow Triangle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

By three in the morning the pawnshop on Lock Street has gone quiet enough that you can hear the canal ticking against its stones. You are behind the counter with a tray of wedding rings and a biro you keep losing, when the streetlamp outside finds the glass box on the top shelf and throws a white line across the ceiling. It splits as it crosses the plaster, red at one edge and violet at the other, and you stand very still under it as if someone might walk in and ask you to stop.

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The box belongs to a dead man called Aldous Penrose, who ground lenses for the tram works until his hands gave out. His daughter brought the lot in on Tuesday: a brass magnifier, three pocket watches, and a triangle of cut glass wrapped in a school jumper. The ticket says twelve pounds. You write the figure, then write underneath it, in capitals, NOT FOR SALE, and feel foolish, the way you do when you talk to the spider plant in the back office.

Your manager rings at four to say the glass is worth nothing but the brass, so you do what you know he won't check. You carry it to the front window and prop it on the sill where the lamp can reach it. By dawn the light has crossed the road and walked over the bus shelter, colouring the timetable, the rain on the perspex, and a sleeping man's coat.

When the first bus pulls in, its driver leans out of the cab and looks up, squinting, one hand raised as though to catch something falling. You don't go out to explain. You turn the sign to Open and let the colours keep arriving.