Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Triangle, circle and vertical line symbol
Geometric · Black and grey · Flash
A bold black outline drawing of an upright equilateral triangle with a circle inscribed within it, touching the sides and base. A single vertical line runs from the apex through the centre of the circle to the base. The drawing uses uniform stroke weight on a plain white background, with no shading or colour.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
By the time the dust storms had silted up the last of the Harrow ferry docks, my grandmother had already sold the family's three relics twice. The first buyer wanted them for their metal. The second wanted the stories, which she supplied free, because stories cost her nothing and she was still bitter about the metal.
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The relics were a triangle of grey alloy plates, a ring of cracked glass the size of a dinner plate, and a rod no longer than my forearm that hummed when held near water. Together, she said, they opened the crossing at Vell Basin, where the salt pans run out into the black. Nobody alive had crossed it on foot. Everyone alive had lost somebody to the attempt.
I took them down to the basin the winter I turned nineteen, with a hired skiff and a sack of dry biscuits. The rod sang over the first channel. The glass ring slid onto the brass hook at the bow and lit from inside like a held breath. At the crossing I stood the triangle upright in the mud and threaded the ring through its heart, and the rod ran straight down through both into the ground, as if something beneath had been waiting for a single line to be drawn.
The water did not part. It simply lowered its voice, and a path of hard white silt rose a hand's width above the surface. I walked it with the rod in my fist, and on the far shore I found no treasure, only my grandmother's handwriting scratched into a stone: you were always going to be the one who carried them back. I carried them back, and then I left them in the basin, where the next person can decide what they are for.
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