Fine line purple outline of a small elephant tattoo on the inner wrist and forearm, with the hand open above it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small elephant outline on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A single-line outline of a small elephant facing left sits on the inner wrist and lower forearm. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the ink is a purple or violet tone. The hand is open at the top of the frame against a tiled floor, with the arm resting on a dark red fabric.

Fine line Forearm Elephant Animal Outline

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Okonedo had pinned the proof to the drying line with four wooden pegs, and by Thursday the elephant had walked off it. Nobody saw it go. The lilac ink was still tacky at the edge of the paper, and the single unbroken line that had drawn him facing left was now a faint smudge on the wall above the sink, as if he had leaned there a while and thought better of it.

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Arthur, who had cut the plates for her for eleven years, swore the press had been fine. He had run four hundred sheets through it on Monday, every one a small grey elephant with its trunk curled like a question mark, and nothing had gone wrong until Mrs Okonedo asked for one more, in the lilac she kept for christening cards, and then went home to her tea.

On Friday morning the back door of the print room stood open an inch. There were prints on the flagstones, round and neat, going out toward the harbour wall. Gulls had been at the bins. A boy from the chandlery said he had seen something grey and unhurried crossing the car park at six, heading for the slipway, and that it had stopped to look at the fishing boats tied up in a row, as though it were choosing one.

Mrs Okonedo found the proof on the step with the peg still clipped to its corner. Only the elephant was gone, and the paper where he had been was pale and unmarked, the way a pillow keeps the shape of a head long after the sleeper has got up. She pinned up a blank sheet and left the lilac on the bench. By Saturday the tide had shifted a rope on the pier, and nobody could say which boat had taken him.