Black and grey photo of a small fine line arrow tattoo pointing upwards on the inner wrist, against a white fluffy surface.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small fine line arrow on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A single small arrow runs vertically along the inner wrist, with a pointed head at the top and a three-pronged fletching at the base. The linework is thin and even, in solid black ink. The arrow sits centrally in the frame against smooth skin, with a soft, textured rug visible at the edges.

Fine line Forearm Arrow

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The shaft at Hollin Pit had been silent for three days when Mam Tolley sent her boy up the bank with his grandfather's bow and a bundle of ash arrows. Nobody in the village could agree which way the men were lying. The overman had sent down a lamp and a length of rope and got neither back.

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Tom Tolley was nine and light, which was why he was chosen. He was to shoot straight up through the mouth of the shaft, one arrow after another, so the men below would feel the air moving and know which way was up. The first went wide and rattled on the slag. The second struck the headframe with a note like a church bell. The third rose and did not come down, and his mother said that was the good one, the one that had found the crack in the rock where the air was seeping through.

On the ninth morning the cage came up with eleven men in it, grey as ash and blinking at the light. They said they had heard a thin whistle somewhere above them, three notes, like wind through feathers, and they had crawled towards it until the stone opened. Nobody had told them about the arrow. Nobody had seen it fall.

Tom never found the third arrow, though he walked the spoil heaps every summer after. What he kept was the habit of looking up before he trusted the ground, and his mother hung the bow above the range, where the men could see it when they came in from the shift.