Realistic colour tattoo on the upper arm and shoulder showing an elderly man with white hair and tinted goggles, a clock tower, lightning and a car with light trails.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Realistic storm portrait on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A realistic portrait of an elderly man with white hair and tinted round goggles, his mouth open in an expression of shock, fills the upper arm and shoulder. Behind him sit a clock tower under a dark, lightning-lit sky, and at the bottom a car with glowing light trails crosses a swirling cloud. The shading is smooth and detailed, with strong blues, greys and warm highlights, and the composition is tightly framed around the figure.

Realism Upper arm Portrait Man Goggles Lightning Storm Car Cloud

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The clock on St Oswin's tower had stopped at ten past four, which Maud Tennant considered a poor start for a wedding. Rain drummed on the lychgate, and the vicar kept glancing up at a bruise-coloured cloud rolling over the Hollin valley like a bad-tempered carthorse.

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Ambrose Pell came up the path with his brass goggles pushed onto his forehead and a canvas bag clanking at his hip. 'Grease, wire and a bit of luck,' he said, and would not explain further. Maud had known him since she was small enough to be lifted onto the bell rope, and she had learned that when Ambrose said luck he meant a lightning conductor he had built himself from a stepladder and a copper kettle.

The first crack came as the bride reached the porch. Blue light ran down the spire in a thin, fizzing line, the clock hands juddered, and every bell in the tower began to ring at once. Ambrose was already halfway up the ladder, shouting over the din that the ceremony would begin when the minute hand next touched twelve, not a second sooner. The car he had left at the gate, a long grey motor with its headlamps taped over, gave a cough and leapt forward, leaving pale ribbons of light hanging in the wet air behind it.

Maud stood at the foot of the nave steps with her veil dripping and watched the big hand creep towards the twelve. It arrived exactly on time. Ambrose came down the tower in a long slide, soaked and grinning, and said the clock had only ever needed reminding who was in charge. Then he handed her the kettle, still warm, and asked whether she would like to be married before the storm changed its mind.