Small fine line black constellation tattoo of four star shapes joined by dotted lines, on the upper chest below the collarbone.

Star constellation tattoo on the upper chest

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a small constellation tattoo of four four-pointed stars joined by dotted lines, forming an irregular branching shape. The linework is fine and the stars are filled solid black, with no visible shading. The tattoo sits on the upper chest beside a grey tank top and black lace bra strap, against a bright indoor background.

Fine line Geometric Chest Constellation Star Dotted line

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody on the night ward at Carrow Hill believed Agnes Penhale when she said the four lights over the car park were a hen, a plough or a bent old ladder, depending on the month. She had counted them from the fire door every night for eleven years, smoking the one cigarette she allowed herself, and she knew they shifted a finger's width each winter, the way a sleeper turns.

Keep reading

The night the new lad came on as porter, he asked her what the stars were for. She said nothing was for anything, but her mother had told her that a constellation was a set of stars that had agreed to stand together so the lonely ones below could find their way home. He laughed. She gave him the end of her cigarette to hold and went back up to the ward.

Two weeks later the power failed across the valley and the wards went to their emergency lamps. A child in bay four would not settle, so the porter, who had no sense at all, carried a torch up the stairwell to the roof. From there, he said afterwards, the four stars showed plain through the dark glass, joined by their dotted thread, and a fifth pinprick blinked on at the corner like someone striking a match. The child stopped crying to point at it.

Agnes said the fifth was only a plane, then climbed up to see for herself and found the sky had not changed in her whole life. She laid a hand on the cold parapet and said the old thing her mother used to say, that the stars keep count of who is awake, so nobody on the night shift need be counted alone.