Realism tattoo on a thigh showing a shaded grey face with red lips, with a grey scaled snake emerging from the mouth and a red forked tongue.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Snake emerging from lips on a thigh

Realism · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

A large tattoo shows a shaded grey face with a nose and red lips across the upper area, arranged in an optical-illusion style. A realistic grey snake with scaled skin emerges from the mouth, its head sitting low in the composition with a red forked tongue hanging down. Soft grey shading gives depth to the face and snake, while the red lips and tongue are the only strong colour accents.

Realism Thigh Snake Lip Face Nose Tongue

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The men in Shildon Row said the pit had a mouth, and on the night the roof gave at the Bellwell seam, Harry Coult stood at the lip of the shaft and listened for it to speak. The cage had stuck at the three-hundred-foot mark. Lamps swung in the headframe while the deputy sat in the lamp room with his boots off, drinking tea, saying nobody went down until the stone settled.

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Harry's sister Ada came up the lane in her Sunday coat, a red wool scarf knotted at her throat, and told him the hillside had opened like a mouth above the old levels. From the road you could see it plainly: the spoil heap, the shadow under the ridge, the dark slot where the lips should be. Ada said the mouth had been hungry since the strike, and that someone had to go in and feed it a name.

Harry went down on the spare rope with a single lamp and a pocketful of bread. At the bottom the air was warm and smelt of wet iron. Something grey moved along the timber props, scaled like a pinecone, its head resting low by the pump house. It did not hiss at him. It only opened its jaws a little and let its red tongue unspool, forked and slow, the way Ada used to fold her scarf before she spoke at the chapel meeting.

He gave it the bread. It took the crust and gave back a sound he knew from the coal face, the groan of a pillar about to let go, and then a voice that was his own, asking him to stay. Harry turned his lamp to the wall and saw that the seam had closed behind him. He pulled the rope twice. Up above, the cage rattled and rose, and the last thing he saw was that red tongue hanging out of the dark, still tasting the air he had carried down.