Pencil drawing of a sleeping crescent moon with a face in front of a sun with flame-like rays, surrounded by swirling clouds and small stars, shown as a tattoo design.

Sun and crescent moon with clouds

Black and grey · Flash

A pencil drawing of a sun behind a crescent moon with a sleeping face, shown in profile with closed eyes. Swirling clouds and small five-pointed stars frame the figure, and the sun's rays are drawn as jagged, flame-like shapes. Soft grey shading gives the moon and sun volume against the white background.

Sun Moon Face Cloud Star

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The moon had missed the 5.12 again. He was asleep on the bench under the clock at Kettle Hollow, one cheek on his hand, a cloud folded over his knees like a blanket someone had thought to bring. Agnes Tully, who kept the tea urn and the signal lamps, nudged him with her boot. "Your train's gone," she said. "It went with the sun on it."

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He sat up slowly, the way old men do when their joints have been reporting the weather. "He shouts at me from the far end," he said. "All those jagged rays, like a boy with a tin whistle. I can't hear the timetable over it." Agnes poured him tea without asking. The sun stood on the opposite platform, bright as a brass plate, arms out, dragging a string of stars behind him like carriages he had no right to couple.

Agnes had a plan, which was the only useful thing a stationmaster could have. She took a spare ticket from the rack and wrote on the back in pencil: one fare, shared, every second morning. She pressed it into the moon's palm. The sun read it over the rail, went red around the ears, and agreed, because he had never once in his life been able to refuse a fair deal written down.

Now the two of them take the 5.12 together. The moon sleeps in the window seat with his face to the glass, and the sun sits opposite, quiet for once, so the clouds stay soft and the rails do not glow. Agnes rings the bell at ten to five, and nobody misses it.