Three close-up photos of a small black fine line tattoo of a stick figure jumping on a trampoline, placed on the palm of a hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Stick figure on a trampoline on the palm

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Three photographs show the same palm from slightly different angles, each with a small black tattoo of a stick figure above a trampoline. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the figure's legs are bent as if mid-jump. The tattoo sits near the base of the fingers against a plain, neutral background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody believed Ruth Pargeter when she said the trampoline at the end of Hallow Pier could throw a person higher than the gulls. The council had bolted it between the candyfloss van and the penny arcade in the summer of 1987, and its mat was patched with gaffer tape and smelt of salt and chips. Ruth was eleven and had strong views about balance, so on her first Saturday she drew a stick man on the heel of her hand in biro, knees tucked up, to check her jumps against something that never got tired.

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Every weekend after that she copied him out fresh. Mr Gerwyn, who ran the mat from a deckchair with a transistor radio on his knee, told her she was landing on her heels like a cow on ice. She told him the stick man didn't mind. By August she could hang in the air long enough to read the sign about no jumping after dark, and she was sure the little figure on her palm had started bending his legs earlier than she did.

The September gale took the ink off by Tuesday, and on Saturday the mat was gone, replaced by a metal frame and a notice about insurance. Ruth stood at the rail with her hand open and found the faint grey outline still there, the knees up, the arms out, the trampoline a line under his feet. She didn't redraw it. She walked down the pier with her palm to the wind, and somewhere behind her, on a sprung board nobody was using, a loose spring went twang, twang, twang, as if someone had just landed.

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