Fine line tattoo of outlined and dotted stars forming a zigzag line across the inner forearm near the wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Stars in a zigzag line on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a small black tattoo across the inner forearm near the wrist. Outlined stars of varying sizes, with scattered dots, rise and fall along a loose zigzag line from left to right. The thin linework is black with no shading, and the composition is centred on the design against pale skin and a dark background.

Fine line Forearm Star Zigzag Dot Constellation

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The last tent of Harrow's Travelling Show was pitched on the common above Lydd the week the lights began to fail, and old Mab Ferrier, who swept the sawdust, said it was the stars' doing. Nobody believed her except the children, who believed most things.

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The ringmaster had sold the elephant in March and the horses by June. What remained was a high wire, a strongman with a bad hip, and a girl called Tilly Sker who could climb the rigging without touching the ropes. Every night she climbed to the top pole and named the stars aloud, because her grandmother had told her that stars were a ladder somebody had dropped on purpose and forgotten to collect. The crowds grew thinner. The canvas sagged in the middle like a tired horse.

On the last Saturday of October a boy came up the lane with a lantern and no shoes and asked to join. Tilly told him there was no wage, only bread and the ropes. He said he did not want wages. He wanted to know which star was the show. She pointed up, where the brightest ones lay in a zigzag above the hedge, rising and falling like a line someone had drawn to show a fall and a rise. "That's us," she said. "Up, down, up. We never go in a straight line."

On the Sunday the tent came down, and more people walked up the lane to watch it fold than had bought tickets all season. Tilly coiled the wire and counted the stars over the field, and she found the boy had been right about the line. It ran on past the hedge, past the church, and out over the dark fields where the next town was waiting to be lit.