Black line drawing flash of an ornate sun above a crescent moon, both decorated with fine dotwork and hanging drop ornaments.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sun and crescent moon line designs

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

The image shows two separate line drawings stacked vertically on a white background: a sun with flared rays and a face-like centre at the top, and a crescent moon with a dotted, lace-like edge below. Both designs use fine, even black linework, with dotwork accents and chains of small hanging drops beneath them. The sheet is entirely black and white, with no shading or colour.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer, you, where the lamp doesn't reach, and mind the box hedge, for it bites. You'll have heard the sun and the moon were once neighbours. Not in the sky, mind. In a walled garden at the bottom of a lane, where an iron gate had a lock neither of them could open alone.

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The sun was a showy thing. He came up each morning with his rays flung out like a man shaking open a wet umbrella, and he scorched the foxgloves and cracked the bell jars, so by noon old Hester Pell would be out in her straw hat, cursing him by name. The moon was patient. She came after dusk to tend the night stock and the pale jasmine, hanging her dew from every spike and tendril so the beds wouldn't go to dust in the heat.

One summer the sun grew so bright that the lock warped shut, and the two of them were left inside together, the key lost somewhere in the rhubarb. They quarrelled until the crows gave up listening. Then the sun, who had never once lowered his voice in his life, came down to the bottom wall and asked the moon what she would take to share the garden. She said she would take the hours either side of his going, and every drop he couldn't bear to dry. He grumbled, but he agreed. That is why, when you walk out at dusk, the dew hangs from every spike in chains, and the gate swings open at both ends of the day.

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