Black outline tattoo of a starship on the lower back, above the waistband of jeans, in a fine line style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Starship outline on lower back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A close photo of a person's lower back, cropped below the chest and above the jeans, showing a small black outline tattoo of a starship with a rounded saucer section and a trailing nacelle. The linework is thin and even with no shading, and the design sits on the side of the lower back near the hip. The image is in black and grey tones with a plain background of a blue patterned sofa.

Fine line Back Spaceship Outline

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The summer the Sputnik went over, half of Calder Row stood in its back yards in dressing gowns with their necks craned, and I stood on the coal bunker and watched Walter Pike draw a ship on the wall of the outside lavatory in Indian ink. He was eleven and had never seen the sea. I was fourteen and too old to be interested, which is why I watched. "It's a saucer on a stick," he said, blowing on the lines. "Two pipes out the back, so it goes faster than the light."

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His mother scrubbed the wall with carbolic the next morning and the ship came up grey, a ghost of itself, but Walter had already drawn it again on a Woodbine packet, and then on the flyleaf of my hymn book, because I had lent him my pen. He drew it everywhere after that. On the steamed-up window of the bus shelter, in the dust on the Co-op van, in the margins of his arithmetic until Mr Hirst made him stand at the front. Each time the lines were thinner, as if he were trying to make the thing light enough to lift off the page.

Walter went down the Calder pit at sixteen and the roof came in on him four years later. The ship stayed in my hymn book, pressed flat between the Psalms, and I forgot it until the summer the men walked on the moon. The Working Men's Club hired a television and we all sat in a fug of smoke watching grey dust. Afterwards I found the packet and smoothed it out on the bar. The little saucer was still there, pipes trailing, no bigger than a thumbnail. He got there first, the daft lad, I thought. He just never had the rocket.