Black and white flash design of a sun with flame-like rays around a circle containing a pentagram and interlocking circular motifs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sun burst with pentagram circle design

Geometric · Black and grey · Flash

A bold black and white design of a sun with wavy, flame-like rays radiating from a thick outer ring. Inside the ring, a pentagram is drawn with thin lines, and several small circles and arcs sit within the star's points. The solid black rays contrast with the fine linework of the inner circles, and the design is centred on a plain white background.

Geometric Sun Ray Pentagram Circle Star Flame Symbol

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The abbey clock stopped on the feast of St Edmund, and nobody would touch it but me, because nobody else in Ely could tell a pinion from a pewter spoon. Brother Osric kept the bells. Prior Wulfstan kept the keys and the accounts. I kept the hours, which meant climbing the north tower each dawn with an oilcan, a bad knee and a lantern, to listen to the works grinding behind their iron plates.

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The dial was Anselm's work, and he had been dead eleven years. Around its edge he had cut twelve rough flames, and inside a thick ring he had drawn a five-pointed star in lines so fine I needed my spectacles to follow them. At each point of the star sat a small wheel with its own ring of teeth. Anselm told the novices the star held the mechanism true, that each point was a watch of the night, and that the sun above would scorch whichever brother came to the tower with bad intentions. We laughed at him, though none of us ever let the north door stand open.

The clock began to drag in the autumn. Its hours came late, then early, then not at all. On the third morning I lifted out the lowest wheel of the star and found it fitted backwards, its teeth facing the wrong way, and in the hollow of its hub a folded strip of vellum. It was a list of names in Anselm's crabbed hand, nine of them, each struck through but the last, which was mine. Beneath, he had written: turn it the way the star points, and the hour will answer.

My hands shook. I turned the wheel the way the star pointed and fitted it home. Below, in the dormitory, a door banged and someone began to pray aloud. At matins the bell struck the hour, then once more, and then once more after that, sounding out over the fens like a name being called.