Small black fine line tattoo of a police box on the back of a person's neck, with dark hair pulled up and a hand visible at the left edge.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small police box tattoo on the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of a police box, shown as a dark outline with filled panels and a raised top light, sits centrally on the back of the neck. The linework is clean and even, and the design is shaded in black with no colour. The background is softly out of focus, with the person's dark hair pulled up and a hand visible at the left edge.

Fine line Neck Police box Tardis

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The box came up the shingle the morning after the big tide, standing on its four feet as if it had walked there and was waiting for the tram. Mrs Pellow, who kept the boarding house at the top of Cutter's Steps, said it was a police box and nothing to do with her, and she told the lodgers so at breakfast. Nobody believed her, because the lamp on its roof was still warm when Dennis from the chandlers put his palm to it.

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Her granddaughter Ada was nine that summer and fearless in the way of children who have not yet been let down by anything. She went down each evening with a tin of pilchards and fed the box, which seemed to eat them. On the seventh evening she pushed the door and it opened onto a room larger than the chapel, lit by a glass ceiling full of slow stars, and a man in a coat too long for him looked up from a panel of brass levers and said she had left the door open again.

Ada asked him where the box was going. He said anywhere it was needed, and then, because she kept staring at him, that it was going to Cutter's Steps in the spring to fetch her grandmother's wedding ring from the bottom of the harbour wall, where it had rolled in 1931.

It was spring when the tide turned the wrong way. Mrs Pellow stood on the front step with her hands in her apron, and the box hummed and dimmed, and the lamp on top lit the whole sea grey-gold for a moment. When the box was gone, the ring lay on the step, warm and dry, and the pilchard tin was full again.