Black and grey fine line tattoo of a ringed planet, small stars and a shooting star on the inner wrist of a raised arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small planet and shooting star on the wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of a ringed planet, three tiny stars and a shooting star sits on the inner wrist of a raised arm against a plain white background. The planet and shooting star are drawn in thin, even black linework with little or no shading. The image is black and white and tightly framed on the tattoo.

Fine line Forearm Planet Saturn Star Space

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The orrery came up from the church jumble in a tea chest, and Mr Hebden wanted a shilling for it because one of the moons had gone missing. My father paid him two. He carried it home along Mill Lane like a sleeping child and set it on the sideboard where my mother kept the good cups.

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Saturn was the only planet with its ring still intact. Every night after the wireless went off, I wound the brass handle and watched the little painted ball turn inside its hoop while the lamp hissed. Ada Crabtree at the post office said the Russians would be up there soon, throwing their metal about the sky, and nobody in Thornwick knew what to make of that. I didn't care about the Russians. I cared that the ring was the one part of the whole arrangement that could hold a thing up without touching it.

In October a shooting star crossed over the reservoir, and I ran the whole half mile barefoot in my nightdress to tell somebody. Nobody was out but Mr Hebden, sitting on his step with his pipe. He said he'd seen it too, and that it wasn't a star at all, only a bit of grit burning up for the sake of a few seconds of being looked at. I told him that was the saddest thing I'd ever heard. He laughed until he coughed.

When my father sold the orrery to a man from Leeds that spring, I stood on the platform and watched the crate go into the goods van. Three weeks later a parcel arrived at the post office addressed to me. Inside was the missing moon, wrapped in a page of the Thornwick Gazette, and a note in Mr Hebden's wobbling hand telling me to keep the ring on and to count the stars from the back step.