Close-up photo of a red lightning bolt tattoo with a blue shadow edge on the inner wrist and forearm.

Red lightning bolt on a wrist

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A red lightning bolt with a dark blue shadow along its left and lower edges sits on the inner wrist and lower forearm. The linework is bold and clean, and the red fill looks solid with little visible shading. The bolt is centred on a pale, slightly out-of-focus background of tiled flooring, with the photo taken from above at a slight angle.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The storm took the sign first. A gale came off the bay at four in the morning, and by breakfast the letters of SEAVIEW were lying in the back garden like dropped cutlery. Lionel Pike, who had lodged with us since Whitsun and painted name boards for the pier shops, stood in the rain with his hands in his cardigan pockets and said he could do better.

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He wanted a bolt, he said, not letters. "Everybody remembers a flash," he told me, and I reminded him that our guests would like to know where they were sleeping. He set up his trestles in the yard regardless, mixed a red the colour of pillar boxes and a blue he called midnight, and worked the bolt in one confident stroke on a sheet of marine ply. The shadow ran down its left and lower edges like a second, colder bolt hiding behind the first.

Mrs Dunn in room four said it looked like a warning. Mr Okonkwo from the Thursday coach party said it looked like a joke. I said nothing, because there was something in the shape I could not name, a stubbornness, the way a thing looks when it has been knocked flat and has decided to stand anyway.

When the board went up over the door in June, the wind came round again and nothing fell. Lionel left on the Saturday train with his trestles folded and no forwarding address. I still take my tea on the step and look up at that red zigzag, and whenever the sky over the bay goes white, I think of him in the yard with his wet cardigan, saying that everybody remembers a flash.

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