Close view of a person's legs and forearm showing a tiny grey mark on the knee and a small coloured tattoo on the forearm.

Small knee mark and coloured forearm tattoo

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A person with long red hair and black clothing stands with their hands holding the top of black knee socks, with the face out of frame. A tiny grey mark sits on the side of the knee, and a small coloured tattoo on the outer forearm shows green leaf-like shapes with an orange circle and a simple figure. The lighting is bright and flat against a plain white background, with fine line detail on the knee and bolder colour on the forearm.

Forearm Hand Other Leaf Circle Figure Small tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The orange tree had dropped its leaves again by the time Pim Halloran carried the ladder through the glasshouse door, and Nell Cutler was already standing beneath it with her arms folded, as if the tree had insulted her. "Forty years," she said. "Not one fruit. My mother blamed the soil, my gran blamed the cat, and I say it's the little man."

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Pim had heard about the little man. Every glasshouse on the Thorne road had one, a tiny fellow who lived between the pots and was paid in crusts and small kindnesses. Nell's had never shown himself. She had left a saucer of milk by the boiler every night for a decade and found it licked dry each morning, which proved nothing except that the cat had a rival.

They found him on the third day, curled inside a clay pot beneath a folded seed packet, no taller than a thimble, with a green cape of leaves pinned at his shoulders. He looked up at them the way a man looks at a bailiff. Nell knelt slowly and set down a peeled orange, its segments laid out on a saucer like a small sun.

He took one segment, then another, and went back into the pot without a word. Pim expected nothing. The next morning a single orange hung low on the bough, round and bright as a lamp, and beside the trunk lay a pinch of seeds the size of commas, tucked neatly into the soil. Nell never mentioned the little man again, though she kept the peel on the windowsill, drying it into the shape of a crescent moon.