Colour neo-traditional tattoo on an upper arm showing a blue TARDIS with a Don't Blink banner and red roses.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

TARDIS and roses on an upper arm

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A blue police box, the TARDIS, sits at the centre of the design with glowing yellow windows and a domed roof, framed by a gold banner reading Don't Blink. Red roses with green leaves curl around the lower edge, and purple and blue watercolour-style splashes fill the background. Bold dark outlines and soft shading give the tattoo a bright, saturated finish, photographed against a shop window.

Neo-trad Upper arm Tardis Police box Rose Banner Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The blue box turned up on platform four during the engineering works, and nobody on the night shift had booked it in. Lena from the gate said it was a police box, though the police haven't used one in forty years, and the windows glowed yellow as if someone inside had left the lamps on for us. Tom from signals swore he saw the doors open and a man in a long coat step out, check a watch that had no hands, then step back in. We all agreed he'd been on the tea too long.

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The station has an old enamel sign screwed to the wall beside the clock, painted gold and gone brown at the edges: DON'T BLINK. My predecessor used to say it was about the clock, that the minute hand jumps if you look away. Nobody believed him either. At ten to midnight I went out with my torch to check the box was locked, and rain was coming sideways under the lamps. I stood close enough to read the little white sign on the door and counted to three, and I blinked.

When I opened my eyes, there was a fresh timetable pinned to the bench, dated for a Thursday next spring, and a single red rose lying in the gutter with its stem neatly cut. The box was gone. Lena says the rose is a receipt, and that you never get a receipt for anything you didn't pay for.

I kept the timetable in the lost property drawer, where it's still dry. Every night now I check the clock at ten to twelve and I don't look away, and I've never once caught the box leaving. What I do see, every time, is that the platform is a shade bluer in the rain, as if something has been parked there, just out of sight, waiting for me to be careless.