Three close-up photos of a small black fine line tattoo of a stick figure beside a small table on the palm of a hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Stick figure and table on palm

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Three near-identical photographs show the inside of a hand with a small stick figure above a simple table or stool shape. The tattoo is drawn in thin, uniform black lines with no shading. The ink is dark and sharp against the pale skin, and each panel is framed the same way to show the design from the same angle.

Fine line Hand Stick figure Line drawing

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The stool had been carried up the north stair of Harrowgate Keep the same week the last lord died, and nobody in the village could say who carried it. Old Mabel Stennet said it was the lord's own, a plain oak thing with three legs worn smooth by a man who never sat on it. Her grandson said it was the ghost's. Neither had seen the ghost, only the marks of a small upright figure rubbed in soot on the wall beside the window, arms out, as if someone had stood there counting the days.

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In the spring the miller's boy, Tam Rudd, dared his friends to sit on it. He went up alone at dusk with a heel of bread and a candle end. The wind came through the empty arrow slits and laid the flame flat. He sat, as he had been told to, and waited for whatever had waited there before him. Nothing climbed the stair. But when he looked at the wall, the soot figure had moved a step nearer the stool.

He came down before the bell and told no one, which was the trouble. Each evening after that he went back, and each evening the figure stood a little closer, until one night it stood at the stool's edge with its hands on the seat, the way a child stands at a table before supper.

On the last night of the harvest moon Tam carried his mother's second best plate up the stair and set it on the stool. He sat down beside it and said grace the way his father had. When Mabel found him at dawn he was asleep with his back against the wall, the plate was clean, and the soot figure had its arms folded, as though it had been fed at last and had no more need of anyone.