Black and grey realism tattoo of seven moon phases in a diagonal row along a forearm, with a person in a red shirt standing on grass behind.

Seven moon phases down a forearm

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A row of seven moon phases runs diagonally along the outer forearm, from near the elbow towards the wrist, with the fullest moon nearest the elbow and the phases shrinking toward the wrist. Each moon is shaded in soft greys with fine texture on the craters and smooth gradients on the dark edges, giving a realistic, three-dimensional look. The background is a green lawn and the subject wears a red top and dark plaid trousers, and the photo is taken outdoors in daylight.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tom,

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The mailboy came over on the Tuesday tide with your letter, the Glasgow stamp crooked on it, so I know you're still alive and still can't spell "necessary". I have been counting moons since you left. Mrs Gair says it's a daft habit, but it keeps my hands busy while the kettle sulks. The first night after the boat went out, the moon sat so full over the Stack you could have read the tide tables by it. I told myself that was a good omen. I've stopped telling myself things like that.

Every night since, it has thinned. Father would have written it in the log before supper, the way he wrote down the wind and the weight of the catch. Six nights gone it was a crescent you could hang a lamp on, and then came the nights when there was nothing but a grey smudge where it used to be and the cloud rolled in off the west like it owned the place.

Tonight it's back to a sliver, the width of a fingernail, hanging low above the byre roof. I went out with the lantern to see it properly and Mrs Gair's cat followed me to the wall and sat there beside me like an old fool. You'd have laughed.

Here's the thing I meant to say. Come home when it's dark, not when it's bright. The boat lands at the north slip with no lamp on the quay, and I'd know your shape in the black before I'd know your face. Strike a match on the slip so I can count you in. Love, Ada.

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