Close photo of a small black dotwork tattoo of five dots arranged in a loose cluster on the inner wrist and forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small dot cluster on the inner wrist

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph of a small tattoo of five solid black dots arranged in an irregular cluster on the inner wrist. The dots are evenly sized and sharply defined, with plenty of bare skin around them. The skin is pale, the background is a softly lit room with a sofa and a lamp, and the tattoo sits near the centre of the frame.

Dotwork Forearm Dot Minimal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The drifts had reached the top of the yard gate by the third day, and Mrs Gorse still would not let the men dig out the lane. She said the snow knew its own business. What she did instead was send Tomas out each dusk with a hammer and a sack of tent pegs, and he would drive them into the white in a loose scatter, five of them, from the back step to the barn door, so a person could find the way with a lantern and not walk off the edge of the beck.

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Tomas thought the pattern was a mess. He said so on the second evening, stamping his boots by the range. One peg had sunk into a hidden hollow and lay crooked, another sat a stride too far east, and the whole thing looked like a spill of pepper on a plate. Mrs Gorse only poured him tea and said the pattern was the point. A straight line of stakes would tell a body only where it was going, but a crooked one told it where it was.

On the fourth morning a stranger's horse came up the lane with nobody leading it, and the rider was found in the barn, stiff and grey-lipped and muttering about stars. He had followed the pegs by moonlight, he said, counting them one by one, and had taken the odd one for a landmark.

In April, when the thaw came, Tomas pulled the pegs and found the ground beneath each one darker than the grass around it, five soft marks in the mud, arranged exactly as they had been.