Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Small cat face on the inner wrist
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A raised hand, palm facing the camera, shows a small black tattoo on the inner wrist. The tattoo is a simple cat face drawn in thin lines, with whiskers, curved ears, dot eyes and a small triangular nose and mouth. The skin is pale and the background is a textured dark blue wall, and a gold ring with a pink eye motif is held near the fingers.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Nobody on Scarrow believed I could be bothered with the lamp, but I have kept the mice out of the oil store for eleven winters, and the notch in my left ear is my proof. Mr Tallis, the keeper, talks to me the way other men talk to the sea, at length and without expecting an answer. When the supply boat came in on Tuesday, it was his niece Nell who stepped off it, nineteen years old and carrying a bag too heavy for her. She was the first person in years who looked at me properly.
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She sat on an upturned crate by the landing and took a biro from her coat. "You're a face," she said, and drew one on the soft skin of her own wrist, quick and wobbly. Two triangles for a nose and mouth, two dots for eyes, and whiskers spilling out either side as though she had caught them in the wind. "There. Now you'll always come when I call." I did not come. I was busy watching the boat.
The boat did not leave that evening. Mr Tallis had a cough, the sea had a temper, and Nell spent three days hauling crates up the path and asking me questions I could not answer. Each morning she held her wrist up to the window to check the ink had not faded, and each morning I sat on the sill and let her check me too.
On the fourth day the sea went flat and grey as a slate. She climbed into the boat with her sleeve pulled down over the drawing. I watched until the spray swallowed the hull, then climbed the stairs to the lamp room, where the beam turned slow and white across the water. Every eleven seconds it swept round and found me on the sill, and I thought of her somewhere past the headland, pushing back her cuff to see whether I was still watching.
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