Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Three stars across collarbone and shoulder
Geometric · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo
Three black star shapes of decreasing size sit in a diagonal line across the upper chest and shoulder, joined by a fine dotted trail that ends in a small diamond. The stars are solid black with pointed rays, and the dots are crisp and evenly spaced. The image is a close crop of a woman in a grey tank top, with the tattoo placed centrally against the skin and the background softly out of focus.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The fog had sat on the Biscay swell for three days when Pieter Maas finally asked me to stop pretending the log was right. I had been dead reckoning from the last fix off Ushant, pencilling a fine dotted track across the chart, and every hour I added a little more faith to it. He didn't want a lecture. He handed me the sextant case and said the sky would clear at dusk or it wouldn't, and either way we'd need a number.
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The sky cleared at ten to six, all at once, the way it does out there. Three stars came through the murk in a line, brightest at the bow and dimmer toward the stern, and I took them one after another while the deck lamp hissed behind me. Each sight gave a circle of position, and each circle crossed my pencilled trail a little north of where I'd guessed. I marked the crossing with a small diamond, the way my old instructor had taught me, and drew the dots through to it so the stars and the course agreed.
Pieter read the chart upside down across the table and grunted. 'You have us closer to the Rochebonne than I like.' I told him the stars didn't lie, though they were a little shy about it. He laughed for the first time that week and put his thumb on the diamond. By morning the fog had lifted off the Channel, and the Scilly light showed exactly where I'd said it would.
I still keep that chart rolled in a tube in my kit bag. Nobody asks about the diamond. It's only the place the pencil stopped, and where we agreed to stop being lost.
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