Black and grey tattoo of a sun with a face, a crescent moon and hanging feathers, styled in a traditional manner, on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sun, moon and dreamcatcher on a forearm

Traditional · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a sun with a face and radiating rays set inside a crescent moon, with a dreamcatcher-style hoop of beads and several feathers hanging beneath. The bold outlines are even, and grey shading on the moon, sun and feathers adds depth. The design is centred on the forearm against plain skin, with a studio chair and equipment visible at the edges.

Traditional Forearm Sun Crescent moon Dreamcatcher Feather Celestial

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The dreamcatcher stayed in the attic window at Gull Crest long after the lodger who owned it had gone. Ivy Pascoe took it down twice to dust the sill and twice hung it back, because the feathers still moved when the wind came off the harbour and she liked the sound the beads made against the glass. Nobody had asked for it back. The man had paid his last week in coins, left the key on the hall table, and taken only his fishing rod and a suitcase held shut with a belt.

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On the first night of the autumn gales, Ivy climbed the stairs with a candle because the electric had gone again. The rain had stopped, but the sky over the bay was split, a hard silver moon slipping behind cloud while the sun, a painted tin disc her husband had nailed above the kitchen door years back, rattled loose on its hook below. She heard it clatter and thought, foolishly, that the house was trying to tell her something. She sat on the attic bed and held the candle to the window.

Through the glass the harbour lights came on one by one. A boat was coming in late, its engine a cough and then a steady grumble, and she counted its lamps the way Arthur used to count the fleet. Four lamps. Then five. The lodger had sailed on the Tuesday tide with a crew that had no business being out in such weather, and the harbourmaster had said nothing about it, which was its own kind of answer.

Ivy lifted the dreamcatcher down at last, gently, so the feathers wouldn't snap. She carried it downstairs and hung it on the hook beside the painted sun, and the two faces of the sky looked out at each other across the kitchen. In the morning she would write to the harbourmaster. Tonight the kettle would do, and the boat was nearly in.