Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Tiger face tattoo on a forearm
Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A large tiger face fills the forearm, shown head-on with its eyes, nose and whiskers in sharp detail. The stripes and fur are built up with dense black linework and soft grey shading that fades toward the bottom edge of the design. The image is in black and grey against a dark sleeve and a blurred grey background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The keeper's wife had hung the lamp-room key on a nail by the door for eleven winters, and every night the tiger came up the rocks to look at it. Nobody on Skerrow had seen a tiger. The old men said one had come off a ship out of Calcutta before the war and swum ashore, and that it had lived in the gorse ever since, eating gulls and the odd straying goat.
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Grey Tomas Penhallow said it was only a fox with ideas. He was the one who climbed the stairs on the first night of the storm to light the wick by hand, because the clockwork had seized and the sea was coming over the lower rail. He did not come back down until the spray stopped. When he did, the tiger was sitting at the foot of the tower, its striped face turned up toward the glass, as still as the stones.
It did not growl. It looked at him the way a magistrate looks at a man who has told the truth for once, slow and without hurry. Then it rose and padded back into the gorse, and the beam swept over its broad back and was gone.
After that the boats came in by the light, and nobody went up the tower without leaving bread and a bowl of milk on the step. Tomas kept the lamp for thirty years and never saw the animal again, but on every storm night the milk was licked clean by morning, and the wick burned steady without anyone touching it.
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