Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Rose and panther back tattoo with sleeves
Traditional · Back · Mixed · Photo
The photograph shows a woman seen from behind, with a pink rose near the top of the back, a dagger with leaves below it, and a larger panther with purple roses on the right shoulder. Bold black outlines define the shapes, with solid fills in red, pink, purple and green, and the design sits on the back and extends onto the arms. The composition is framed against a striped wall and a black and white striped top, with the tattoos as the clear focal point.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The show had shrunk to four wagons and a lame mule by the time it reached the mill town of Keld, and the handbills had faded to the colour of weak tea. Only the panther still looked like money. Her name was Vesper. Ambrose Tull had bought her as a cub from a Lisbon sailor who owed him, and she had never once gone hungry in front of a crowd, which was more than could be said for anyone else in the company.
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Hester Rowe threw the knives. She stood against a board painted with green leaves and a single pink rose, and Ambrose threw from twelve paces, and between them they had kept the lamps lit for eleven winters. On the last wet night in Keld a blade skidded off a damp beam and struck the board an inch from her neck. The crowd laughed, but Hester did not. She walked straight to the cat's pen and told Vesper, in a voice meant only for the cat, that Ambrose meant to sell her to a menagerie in Leeds for the price of a new roof.
Hester went to Ambrose with the knife still in her hand and a purple rose she had torn from the poster. She did not threaten him. She sat on the step of the wagon until he understood that the show had never belonged to him, only to the animal who made it worth watching. That night she cut the chain with the same blade that had come so close to her throat and led Vesper out through the back of the field onto the moor road, where the bracken grew higher than a man.
The show folded before the spring. Ambrose sold the wagons for scrap and the mule for glue. People in Keld still say a big cat comes down from the high moor each December and sits by the mill door, and that the millers leave her a bowl of milk and do not ask where she has been. Hester never threw a knife again, but she kept the board, and beside the pink rose there is a small purple one that nobody remembers painting.
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