Colour tattoo of Spider-Man in a leaping pose with grey city buildings behind him, across the forearm of a person sitting in a car.

Spider-Man tattoo on forearm

Forearm · Colour · Photo

A full-colour tattoo of Spider-Man in a dynamic leaping pose covers the outer forearm, with his red mask and suit, blue shading and yellow eyes clearly defined. Grey and black smudged shapes behind him suggest buildings, and soft shading gives the figure some depth. The photo is taken casually indoors, with the forearm and part of a denim-clad knee in frame and the wearer's face not shown.

Forearm Superhero Building City

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody at the Halmby crossing wanted the night shift, so Ruth Ashdown and I took it between us, two chairs and one kettle in a booth lit like a fridge. By two in the morning the lorries had thinned to a trickle, and the only thing moving on the far side of the barrier was a coach of sleeping schoolchildren on a trip to somewhere warmer.

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The man who came up on foot had a rucksack, a coat too thin for the weather, and a cardboard tube under one arm. He had been a sign painter before the shop closed, he said, and he wanted to know if we would let him through with a picture for his sister. Ruth unrolled it on the counter. A figure in red and blue leapt across a grey city, one arm flung out towards a tower, a line of silk looping back into the smudged streets. Black shapes at the bottom could have been rubble or smoke. "She's poorly," he said. "We used to fight over this one when we were kids. I drew it from memory. I hope I got the eyes right."

Procedure says a drawing is an item to be declared, so I logged it, photographed it, and asked him to step through the arch. While Ruth typed, I kept looking at the figure in the middle of the sheet. Someone had gone over the yellow eyes three times, pressing so hard the pencil had torn the paper. He had the pose right, though: the one that says the next roof is close enough to reach and nobody has told gravity.

We let him go at ten past three with the tube under his arm. I never learned whether the sister saw it. Three weeks later a padded envelope arrived at the booth addressed to the officers at Halmby, with a postcard of a tall skyline and one line in careful capitals: IT WAS EXACTLY RIGHT. Ruth pinned it above the kettle, and it stayed there until the card went soft at the corners.