Fine line tattoo of a small cluster of stars with a faint dotted haze on the inner forearm near the wrist.

Small star cluster on inner forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a tiny cluster of star shapes, the largest with four points, scattered on the inner forearm close to the wrist. Thin black linework forms the stars, and a soft spray of fine dots fades around them to suggest a nebula. The ink is dark grey-black on pale skin, set against a plain light background with a dark sleeve at the right edge.

Fine line Dotwork Forearm Star Sparkle Nebula Dot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wasps reach the windfalls before you do, so you work the long grass with the torch in one hand and the crate on your hip, filling it with Discovery apples that have split on the bank. Mr Ashdown wants them clean for the press by Saturday, and he has already told you twice that one bruised apple spoils a whole barrel. Beyond the hedge the lane is dark except for the kitchen window at Larkfield, where your gran is still up, pretending she is not waiting.

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She taught you the old rule when you were small enough to sit on the tailgate: in late summer the sky sheds its own fruit, and if you look up long enough you will see a few drop. You have counted nine since supper. You have wished on none of them, because wishing on the walk home feels like asking for a second helping.

Near the gate the grass goes silver under a spread of stars you had not noticed, six or seven pricks of light clustered above the topmost branches of the old Bramley, as if someone had flicked a brush of ink across the dark and missed the rest. You stand still with the crate on your hip and count them. Each one has four little arms, and between them a haze of smaller specks that thins out into nothing. You do not know their names, but the tree probably does, and so does she.

When you reach the kitchen she has the kettle on and a pencil behind her ear. She takes the crate, turns it over, and writes on the wood in capitals: THE BRAMLEY, THE DISCOVERY, THE SKY. 'Those are the ones that stayed,' she says, and you let her believe you wished on them.