Black and grey photograph of a small fine line alien head tattoo on a forearm, with the hand resting against a chin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small alien head on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close crop shows a pair of lips and a chin, with a hand resting against the jaw and a forearm in the foreground. A small alien head is tattooed on the inner forearm near the wrist, drawn with a thin dark outline and solid shaded eyes. The photograph is greyscale, with soft lighting and a shallow focus on the tattoo.

Fine line Forearm Alien Small tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The thing came down out of the fog on the towpath below Hanwell lock, a pale disc no bigger than a saucer, and it was still ticking when I fished it out of the nettles with a boathook. My father always said the Thames gives back whatever it wants to, and that winter it wanted me to carry something home. Inside the disc sat a small grey head with two dark eyes, wet and shining like slate after rain, and I swear it turned to look at me.

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I took it to the lock keeper, who laughed until he had to sit down on the beam. Then he went quiet and asked me not to tell the Port of London Authority, which was when I knew he had seen one before. The barge Wren was my only home by then, so the thing came aboard with the coal and the kettle. It sat on the stove shelf and watched the water through the porthole, never blinking, never asking for anything but the slow brown river going by.

On the last night of the frost it climbed down my arm while I slept and pressed one cold finger to the soft skin inside my wrist. When I woke, the mark was there, neat and dark, and the disc was gone from the shelf. I walked the towpath to Hanwell at first light and the fog had lifted off the water. Somewhere out past the gasholders, a light rose straight up like a spark thrown from a fire, and I lifted my wrist to it without thinking, the way you wave to a friend leaving on a train.