Flash sheet of metallic gold and black temporary tattoo designs, including feathers, arrows, a hamsa hand, chevrons and lettering, with no placement on a body shown.

Temporary tattoo flash sheet with arrows and feathers

Geometric · Mixed · Flash

A sheet of temporary tattoo designs laid out in rows, including three feathers, an arrow, a crossed pair of arrows, a hamsa hand with an eye and crescent moon, an infinity symbol with the word dream, and geometric triangle, chevron and diamond borders. Lettering reads HEART, MIND and LOVE, some of it mirrored. The linework is bold and clean, with solid black fills and gold metallic accents on several designs, and the designs are spaced evenly on a white background.

Geometric Lettering Feather Arrow Hamsa Eye Moon Star Infinity Dream Heart Love Triangle Chevron Diamond Crossed arrows Temporary tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The press at Hollin Row had cracked its bed in March, so for six weeks I pulled every transfer sheet by hand, rubbing gold leaf onto the feathers while the inkmaster stood at my elbow muttering that the arrows were drifting. They were not drifting. I had cut the stencil myself, and the stencil pointed where Captain Ruan's letter said he would be sailing: out past the breakwater, under the grey bell of the Dunmere light.

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Every sheet had to be printed backwards first, the way the old lettering men taught us, so that the words came off the paper the right way round on skin. HEART came out mirrored on the press, then MIND, and I learned to read my own handwriting upside down so that LOVE would not come out wrong. The hamsa hand I kept for last. Lord Ebbing had asked for an eye in the palm to keep the sea off the boats, and the inkmaster said a hand like that would sell in the market squares of Carrow, where nobody asked what it was for.

On the last morning the sheets were stacked, dried and wrapped in waxed linen, and I found a spare feather I had inked on the back of a proof. It was the only one I had drawn without a stencil: a slow, crooked thing with a gold spine. I tucked it into Ruan's bundle with the rest, and when the Moth cleared the breakwater that afternoon I stood on the quay with the inkmaster's rag still in my fist, watching the sails grow small.

Ruan wrote from Port Saltry in the autumn. The sheets had all sold, he said, and a girl at the fish market had asked for the crossed arrows on her wrist. He had read her the mirrored words aloud so she could copy them the right way round. He closed with a line I have kept folded in my ledger: the sea is calmer than the sheet suggested. I have never known what he meant, and I have never asked.