Small black fine line crescent moon tattoo with a simple face on the upper arm of a woman with long wavy ombre hair, photographed from behind.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small crescent moon on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A woman with long, wavy ombre hair is photographed from behind, with her face hidden. A small black crescent moon with a simple sleeping face sits on her upper arm, drawn in thin, even linework with no shading. The image is in full colour, with the tattoo as a small dark accent against the pale skin and grey bedding.

Fine line Upper arm Moon Crescent moon Face Woman Hair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You find the moon at the back of the Haddon Street market on a Thursday, when the rain has driven the buyers under the canvas and left the pitches to the gulls. It lies in a shallow tray of brass buttons and clock keys, curled like a comma, one closed eye turned up toward the awning. The stallholder, a man called Ferris who sells clocks that no longer run, says it came in a crate of broken hinges and he has been meaning to throw it out.

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You ask what it wants. He shrugs, so you pick it up anyway. It is cold and thin and weighs almost nothing, like a scrap of tin foil, and when you hold it under the strip light a face shows in the hollow, a sleeper's face with soft mouth and lashes resting. It seems unkind to leave a sleeping thing in a bin of buttons, so you tuck it into your coat pocket and walk home with the rain running off your hood and the pocket warm against your hip.

That night you set it on the windowsill, where the streetlamp makes it glow. Nothing happens for three nights. On the fourth you wake to find the window open and the rain gone, and above the car park the cloud has been folded back like a blanket. The sill is empty, though there is a faint ring of damp where the moon sat, shaped exactly like a smile.

On Thursday the tray at Ferris's stall holds only a clock key and a few buttons. Above Haddon Street the moon hangs a little lower than it should, one eye still shut, as if it has only just stopped dreaming and is in no hurry to wake.