Small fine line tattoo of three arrows in pink, teal and dark ink on the forearm of a person with long blonde hair, wearing a grey sleeve.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Three arrows on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A small tattoo of three arrows runs vertically along the forearm, one dark, one pink and one teal, each with a feathered fletching and a pointed head. The linework is thin and precise, with simple dotted shafts and small solid details. The arm sits against a plain teal wall, with the grey sleeve and loose blonde hair at the top of the frame.

Fine line Forearm Arrow

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain started at half eleven and the tarpaulin over Aunt Mary's stall sagged where the pole had bent. I sat on an upturned crate sorting feathers by colour while the market rolled up its awnings around us. The dark goose quills went in one tin, the pinks we had dyed with beetroot in the next, and the teal, which had cost us most of a Thursday and a borrowed copper pot, lay alone on a folded cloth because nobody had asked for it yet.

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A man in a wet oilskin stopped at a quarter to twelve and asked for three arrows, one of each, and did not say why. Aunt Mary looked at me. I had made the shafts that morning with a fine brush, dotting the binding thread every inch so the eye would travel up them, and she had said they looked like rain falling on a fence. He turned each one over in his fingers. He held the teal against the grey sky and nodded as if he had found the right coin in his pocket.

"My brother used to shoot these at the gulls off the harbour wall," he said, and paid with coins still damp from his palm. I wrapped them in brown paper and tied the parcel with string. When I handed it across, the points were all facing the same way, north, towards the sea road.

Aunt Mary packed the empty trays without a word. The rain had thinned to something hardly worth the name, and I watched his back until the crowd swallowed it. Where he had stood, the wet pavement held a faint line of dark spots, one for every step he had taken away from us.