Swallow in flight on the upper arm
Realism · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo
A swallow with outstretched wings is shown in flight, seen from the side with its head turned upward. The feathers are rendered with soft grey shading and fine dark linework, giving the wings and tail depth. A small patch of warm orange-brown ink on the throat is the only colour against the otherwise monochrome body, set on plain pale skin.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The swallow struck the lamp glass at four in the morning, and you were the only one awake to hear it drop onto the gallery grating. You carry it down the iron stairs in cupped hands, still warm, its throat the colour of rust under the stairwell bulb. Your father used to say a swallow that finds its way into the lamp room has come a long way and means to go a long way further.
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Skerrow Light stands alone on the last rock before the Atlantic opens out, and the swallows arrive every spring from somewhere south of the Sahara, stitching the air above the keeper's cottage. You have logged their returns for eleven years, one neat line per bird with the date and the wind beside it. This one has a scrap of green thread knotted to its left leg, faded almost to grey, which means someone counted it before you did.
On the balcony rail you open your hands into the wind. It sits for a long breath, looking not at the mainland but out past the reef where the light sweeps and nothing is yet visible. Then it lifts, circles the lantern once so close you feel the stir of its wings on your cheek, and runs away low over the water.
Back in the watch room you open the logbook and write the date, the wind from the south-west, and one line more: released, one swallow, going out.
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