Bold black ink drawing of a treble clef with a stylised animal head at the top, shown on a white background with no body placement visible.

Treble clef with an animal head design

Black and grey · Flash

A black ink design of a treble clef whose upper curve forms the outline of an animal head, with a pointed ear and a small white eye. The linework is solid and bold with a white inner line running through the clef, and the shapes are drawn flat with no shading. The design is shown in black and white on a plain white background, with the full clef centred in the frame.

Treble clef Music Animal head Cat Symbol

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cat came down the chapel stairs the night the bell fell, carrying the last tuning fork of Harrowgate in her mouth as if it were a fish. I had been sleeping in the lamp niche for a month by then, because the roof over the east wing had gone and the rain found everything else. She dropped the fork at my feet, looked at me with one white-slitted eye, and climbed back up without a sound.

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Nobody had played the organ since Master Aldous died. The pipes had split in the frost and the bellows leaked like a sieve, but the cat seemed to think the instrument was still a living thing that needed minding. Each evening she sat on the gallery rail with her tail curled down behind her into a long, slow spiral, and each evening I struck the fork against my knee and held it to the cold wood. Something in the stone answered, a low note that hung in the nave like breath.

The men came from the village on the third night, with crowbars and a handcart, meaning to strip the lead and sell the pipes by the pound. Their lantern swung up the stair. The cat dropped from the rail onto the lectern, arched her back so her shadow filled the arch, and opened her mouth without making a sound. The fork in my hand rang on its own. The men stopped at the threshold with their hands clamped over their ears, and one by one they stumbled back down into the mud, cursing a ghost none of them could see.

When the nave was quiet again she came and wound herself about my ankles, and I understood that the curl of her tail was the last bar of the song. I have not heard the whole of it since. Some mornings, though, the rain stops for a moment and I catch the top note hanging over the broken roof, thin and bright, like something being remembered.