Close view of a white tie-front blouse and denim shorts, with a small fine line crescent tattoo on the outer upper arm near the elbow.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small crescent tattoo on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A woman wearing a white tie-front blouse with a low V neckline and high-waisted acid wash denim stands with one hand on her hip. A small thin black crescent or arc tattoo sits on the outer upper arm, above the elbow. The background is plain and pale, and the framing is cropped from the chest down.

Fine line Upper arm Crescent Moon

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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

Mind the step, that one's been loose since my father's time. Come through to the back, where the ovens are, because nobody tells a proper story out front with the shutters still down. Now. The moon over Hexham the night old Ada Pryce lost her sourdough starter. You'll want to know that first, because everything else hangs off it.

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She'd kept the starter in a crock by the flue for forty years, and it had never once gone sour. Then one February it went flat as a dropped pancake, and Ada stood in the dark with her arms floury to the elbow and swore at the moon, which was thin as a paring that night and hanging low over the chimney pots like it had somewhere better to be.

So she did what our grandmothers did. She went out at half three in her slippers, down the wet cobbles to the river, and she dipped the crock where the moon lay broken on the surface. Hold a thing up to the moon and it remembers how to rise, that was the saying. Nobody believes it now. Ada believed it.

She came back with the crock sloshing and a bit of river weed stuck to the rim, and she fed it flour before the kettle boiled. By six the dough was breathing. By seven the first lorry was idling outside. And the moon, that thin white curl, had gone quietly out over the moor, having finished its job, the way moons do without asking anybody's thanks.

That is the whole of it. Take a loaf on your way out, and mind the step.