Small blue TARDIS police box tattoo on the inner wrist in a fine line style, with teal glitter nail polish on the hand above.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small TARDIS tattoo on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A small blue TARDIS police box with a tiny green light on its roof sits on the inner wrist of a light-skinned hand. The linework is simple and solid with flat blue fill and minimal shading. The background shows a car interior, with teal glitter nail polish on the fingers and sandalled feet at the lower edge of the frame.

Fine line Forearm Tardis Police box Wrist tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Bea, you will not believe what the frost gave us. On Tuesday morning Dad went out to break the ice on the trough and found a police box standing in the top field, bright blue, sitting square in the snow as if someone had parked it there for a lecture. No tyre marks. No footprints apart from our own.

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Dad wanted to ring the council. Mum wanted to ring the vicar. I wanted to open the door, which I did on Wednesday with the bread knife tucked in my coat pocket, feeling foolish. Inside it was far bigger than the outside, which I suppose you already knew, being the sort who reads the back of cereal packets for the plot. There was a console with brass levers and a little green lamp on the roof that blinked slow as a sleeping cat. A man in a tweed jacket was dozing on a bench with a bent umbrella across his knees.

He woke, asked me what year it was, and when I told him he said, "Ah, close enough," and asked whether we had any tea. We did. We sat in the warm for an hour while the lamp blinked and the hens complained outside, and he told me about a moon where the rain falls upwards. I believed about half of it, which is more than I believe of Dad's cider.

This morning the box was gone. The top field lay smooth as a new sheet, save for one square dent where it had stood. On the gatepost someone had left a single blue feather and a note in looping ink: Keep the kettle on. Back in spring. Tell Bea she owes me a jam sponge. Love, your tall friend. Mum says I am not to tell the vicar. I have told the vicar. Yours, Nell.