Small black fine line tattoo of a bee on the upper chest of a woman in a black and white swimsuit.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small bee tattoo on upper chest

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A woman in a black and white geometric swimsuit sits with her face cropped out of frame. A small tattoo of a bee or wasp in dark, thin outline sits on her upper chest near the neckline. The tattoo is in black ink with minimal shading, and the composition centres on the tattoo and the high-necked swimsuit.

Fine line Chest Bee Insect

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The oven at Lowe's bakery had been lit since three, and by the time the shutters rattled up, Mabel Lowe had already scorched two tins and had no patience left for anything that buzzed. Yet a bee sat on the sill, fat and dusty, walking the rim of the honey crock as if it held the lease.

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She flicked a cloth at it. It did not fly off. Instead it lifted its head and said, in a voice like thread drawn through damp linen, 'Keep the shutter open on the warm side, and I'll bring you clover from the far field every morning. Your loaves will rise before the others have stirred. But sell not a single one before the sun has cleared Crow Hill, or I shall go.' Mabel, who had never refused a good bargain in her life, spat on her palm and shook its small foot.

For eleven years the bread rose like clouds and the queue ran down Fen Street. Then her son Tom, short of coin and sharper than his mother, sold a loaf to a carter at a quarter past four, and the carter paid in silver. The next morning the crock was empty, the shutter stood shut, and the dough sat in the trough like wet clay.

Mabel found the bee at dawn, drowned in the milk pail with its wings stuck flat. She fished it out with a spoon, laid it on a warm crust, and set the crust on the sill in the first grey light. The bee stirred, lifted, and went over Crow Hill without looking back, and the bread in the trough began, very slowly, to breathe.