Small black fine line eye tattoo on the side of a tanned torso, above the hip, with denim shorts and white bedding behind.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small eye tattoo on the side of the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a person lying on rumpled white bedding, wearing frayed denim shorts. A small black tattoo of an eye, drawn with thin linework and light shading, sits on the side of the torso above the hip. The palette is soft and cool, with the blue denim and white sheets dominating the frame.

Fine line Ribs Eye

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nell had been sent to fetch the cow back from the edge of Hollin Wood before the bell rang for supper, and she was not yet willing to admit she had lost it. The cow had gone in between the birches where the path forked, and the path had simply stopped being there, as if someone had folded it up and put it in a drawer.

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She found the old gatepost instead. It stood alone in the bracken, grey as a bone, and someone had cut a single eye into its face: a ring with a dot at the centre and four fine lines fanning out from the lid like the rays of a sun that had decided to stop shining. Her grandmother had told her the eye belonged to the wood, and that it blinked once for every person who entered and never once for a person who left.

Nell pressed her palm against the post and counted. Somewhere to her left a bell sounded, and she realised it was the bell from her own church, rung too early. The eye had not blinked. She looked up, and the lines of the carving seemed to lengthen the way a shadow stretches at dusk, and the cow lowed twice from the far side of the trees.

She went home by the stile with the cow ahead of her and did not look back. At the kitchen table her grandmother set down a bowl of barley and asked whether the eye had blinked. Nell said it had not. Her grandmother nodded slowly and said, "Then it has not decided about you yet," and went back to the stove.