Small solid black tattoo of a round fuzzy creature with two large white eyes, placed on the upper chest near the collarbone.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small fuzzy black creature on upper chest

Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A small, round, solid black creature with a spiky fringe and two large white eyes with black pupils sits on bare skin. The tattoo is cleanly inked with bold black fill and short radiating lines at the edge, and there is no colour. A black bra strap runs diagonally across the left side of the frame, with a mole visible above the tattoo.

Chest Creature Eye

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The steam engine at Hollis and Greave's Travelling Fair had not been lit since the spring, so when you pulled the boiler hatch open at Dunstable you expected cold ash and a smell of rust. Instead there were small black fluffs clinging to the firebricks, rolling over one another like wet wool, each with a pair of round white eyes that blinked at the torchlight as if you had interrupted a card game.

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Nobody on the lorry would believe you. Old Ferris, who had run the Waltzer for thirty years, said soot sprites lived in every furnace that had ever burned coal honestly, and that they only left when the fire went out for good. "They're the ones who keep the thing going," he said, "carrying the coal up in their little arms. Get rid of them and the engine sulks for a week." You asked him how many there were. He shrugged and said he had never counted, because counting them was bad luck.

That night you sat on the step of the ticket booth with a flask of tea and watched the fairground lights stutter on one by one. A sprite came rolling down the boiler's iron leg, paused by your boot, and looked up at you with its two enormous eyes. You didn't move. After a while it climbed onto the step beside you and sat there, fizzing faintly, while the carousel music started up across the field.

In the morning the hatch was shut, the engine was warm, and the sprite was gone. But the coal pile had been moved overnight and stacked neatly by the furnace door, one lump at a time, and Ferris swore on his mother's grave that he had not touched it.