Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Small elephant outline on a wrist
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A small, single-line tattoo of a baby elephant facing right, with its trunk raised and a simple eye marked by a dot. The linework is thin and even, in black ink with no shading. The design sits alone on pale skin, centred on the inner wrist against a plain light background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Sit yourselves down, sit down, the generator's coughing so you'll have to lean in to hear me. You want the one about Mabel's calf? Right. Pull that bench nearer the brazier and mind the tent guy-rope.
Keep reading
The calf came to the Harrogate Michaelmas fair the spring her mother was sold on to a circus in Wales, and she would not walk through the big top. Four days she stood by the cake stall with her trunk held up like a question nobody would answer. Dennis Corrigan, who ran the rides, swore she was smelling the weather. Win Tallis, who sold the tickets from a wooden hutch, said the calf only wanted to see over the crowd, so she drew her on the back of a ticket stub with a pencil that had no point left. She never lifted the pencil once. One unbroken line, round the ear, down the leg, up the trunk and back to the eye, which she pressed in with the lead like a full stop.
Then the storm came over the Stray and the tent poles went down like matchsticks. Mabel was gone by morning, and so was the stub from the hutch drawer. They found the calf at dawn on the top of the hill, trunk lifted straight into the first sun, trumpeting at nobody at all.
Win kept that stub in a biscuit tin for sixty years. When they cleared her house, the tin held nothing but the drawing and a note in her small hand: you never lift your hand from a thing you mean to keep.
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