Small black sun with a crescent moon at its centre, tattooed on the wrist of a hand raised against a plain pale background.

Sun and crescent moon on a wrist

Other · Black and grey · Photo

A small solid black sun with flame-like rays sits on the wrist, with a crescent moon inside the disc. The linework is bold and the black fill is even, with no shading. The hand is raised against a plain pale background, and the tattoo sits near the centre of the frame.

Other Sun Crescent moon Ray

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Every autumn the sun came down too low over Harrow Wood, and every autumn the edge of the wood caught alight. The people of Cold Mere had learned to live with the smoke, the blackened stumps and the sheep that would not graze the eastern slope. What they had not learned was how to make the sun sit higher, and Hester Vane, who burned charcoal on the forest rim, had stopped trying.

Keep reading

She climbed the hill one evening with a sack of bread and a pan of cold ash. The sun lay in the bracken like a cartwheel dropped by a giant, its rays licking out in tongues that hissed where they touched the wet ground. Inside its disc, pale as a fingernail paring, sat the moon. "You are burning my wood," Hester said. The moon did not look up. "Then the wood should move," it said, "or stop standing in my road."

Hester did not argue. She knelt, tipped the ash into the rays, and spoke the way her mother had spoken to a stubborn kiln: low, and without hurry. She offered the bread. She offered her iron pan, the one she cooked on, and then, because the flames were still climbing, the warm flagstone from her own doorstep. The sun cooled a degree for each thing given. By the time the moon sat up and nodded, the bracken was steaming but no longer burning.

Next autumn the sun rose over Cold Mere a hand's width higher and stayed there, and the wood kept its green. Hester's pan was never found, though the children swore a copper glint sometimes showed in the sky before dawn. Hester only said the sun was a poor lodger but a fair one, and that she had never once been asked to pay the rent in anything but bread.