Small black fine line tattoo of a cartoon pig on the side of a torso, shown in a sepia photo with a navel piercing above it.

Small cartoon pig on the side of the torso

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A small cartoon pig is drawn in black outline on pale skin at the side of the torso, below the navel. The linework is thin and slightly uneven, with simple shapes for the head, snout, ear and curled body and no shading. The photo is toned sepia, with a navel piercing visible above the tattoo and a dark edge of an object in the bottom left corner.

Fine line Other Pig Cartoon

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The pig got out of the galley again on the fourth day of the long turn, which was also the day the recyclers started humming a half-tone flat. Nobody aboard the Harrow Deep had been allowed a pet since the seed bank was counted, so when Orla from hydroponics smuggled Bramble in under her coat, we all pretended not to notice. The piglet was the size of a loaf and had the manners of a magistrate.

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Yesterday she vanished from the pantry and I found her in the ventilation duct above the bakery, where the proving ovens leak their warmth. She lay curled in the exhaust, rising and falling like a cat on a radiator. I flattened myself on the grating with a torch in my teeth and offered her a heel of crust. She looked at the crust, then at me, then turned round and presented her backside as if I had insulted her mother.

I should have radioed the medic. Instead I stayed there with my cheek on cold steel while the lights dimmed for night cycle, and I told her about the blue world the old charts still call Earth, the one nobody on board has seen. Pigs, I said, are the only animals who never once look up. She snorted. Somewhere below us the galley hatch sighed shut on its seals.

When I finally crawled out with her tucked against my collarbone, I sat on the bakery floor with the dough still rising around me and let her chew my sleeve. Orla would be furious in the morning. Bramble would be unrepentant. Out past the viewport the stars turned slowly, and in the warm room the pig went to sleep with one trotter raised, as if she had already decided where we were going.