Traditional colour tattoo of stacked toy pirate figure parts, including a skull hat, eyepatch head and sword torso, running down a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Stacked pirate minifigure parts on a forearm

Traditional · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A vertical stack of five pirate figure parts runs down the forearm: a black tricorn hat with a skull and crossbones and a red feather, a head with an eyepatch and angry expression, a flat connector piece, a torso holding a sword, and a pair of legs at the base. The solid black outlines and bold flat shading are typical of traditional tattooing, with warm yellows, browns, reds and grey used for the figure parts. Faint older tattoos are visible on the skin around the design.

Traditional Forearm Pirate Skull Crossbones Hat Sword Feather Torso Leg

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The box came up from the Wrenfield jumble sale with its lid taped shut and a name in biro on the side: PRICE, B. Inside, tangled among marbles and a clothes peg, were forty-one pirate pieces that had lost their crews. Ada tipped them onto the kitchen oilcloth and sorted them by colour while the kettle sulked on the range.

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Her brother Bertie, nine and certain of everything, wanted the eyepatch head for himself. Ada wanted the tricorn with the skull on it. They argued about who would be captain, and the argument lasted until the tea went cold and their mother called from the shop below to ask if the flat was on fire.

The trouble was the legs. There were only two pairs, both rust red, and the coat with the sword had gone missing altogether. So they built the crew the only way that worked: one hat, one scowling head, a flat hinge plate that would never sit straight, a black coat with a sword pushed through its hip, and at the bottom the boots, planted side by side on the oilcloth. It stood taller than the sugar bowl. Bertie said it looked like Mr Haskins from the Co-op on a bad Monday.

That night they set it on the windowsill facing the harbour and went to bed. In the morning the red legs had left their footprints in a ring of crumbs across the oilcloth, and the captain was standing at the sink with his hat on crooked. Their mother swore nobody had been in the flat. Ada left the hat where it was anyway, in case the crew came back for it.