Black fine line tattoo of a small sun with a face and rays, placed between the shoulder blades on a woman's upper back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small sun with face on upper back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A small sun with a human face and radiating rays is tattooed centrally on the upper back, between the shoulder blades. The design is drawn in fine black linework with light shading on the face and rays. The photograph is taken from behind, with the subject's hair up and a thin necklace visible, and the tattoo is the clear focal point against a pale wall.

Fine line Back Sun Ray Celestial

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sun over Skerrow had a face, and everyone on the island knew it. It was a plain, patient face with long rays fanned out around it like the spokes of a cart wheel, and it looked down on the fishing boats each morning as if counting them. The trouble started the autumn the rays began to fray. Gulls came down to pick at the threads of light, the water went the colour of pewter, and the boats stayed on the shingle for nine days running.

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Maeve Cullin, who mended her father's nets because her hands were quicker than his, took a bone needle and a hank of waxed linen and climbed the headland at low tide. She sat on the cold rock below the cairn and waited. When the sun dipped low enough to speak to, it said in a voice like a door dragged over flagstones, 'You have come to mend me, then.' She said she had. 'Then you will sew where the light is thinnest, and you will not stop until the last ray holds.'

She worked through the night with the wind pulling at her hair. Each stitch drew a line of gold back out to the edge of the sky, and by the time the stars were out she had sewn the last ray straight. The sun looked smaller now, and tired, and it asked what she would have in return. Maeve thought of the boats, her father's cough and the long winter ahead. 'Keep the boats safe,' she said, 'and give me a mark, so I never forget what I did here.' The sun laughed, and a warm spark of it settled between her shoulders and stayed.

In the morning the boats went out in a line, and the gulls rose and wheeled and came home. Maeve went back to her nets. Whenever the work was hard and the sea turned sour, she felt that small light settle again, like a hand laid on her back by someone who knew exactly what she had done.