Tattoo on the upper back showing a pentagram inside a web-like circle between two crescent moons, with purple feathers, scrollwork and small stars.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Triple moon and pentagram feather design on back

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A tattoo on the upper back shows a central circle containing a red pentagram over a fine web pattern, flanked by two crescent moons. Dark linework and soft grey shading frame the design, with scrolling filigree and small stars spreading outward. Two purple feathers hang from the base of the circle, adding the only strong colour against the grey and black.

Back Moon Crescent moon Pentagram Dreamcatcher Feather Star Filigree Circle

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You learn the bus timetable by heart the winter the river floods Hallam Street, because the number 9 is the only thing that still runs on time. You are carrying a cardboard box of your mother's dishes up the stairs of a flat above a launderette, and the whole building smells of hot cotton and bleach. Someone has left a dreamcatcher hanging from the bannister, its web gone grey with damp, and two purple feathers tied to the bottom ring. You take it down because it is in your way, and then you cannot put it back.

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The woman next door, Mrs Okonedo, tells you it belonged to the previous tenant, who kept moths in jars and left in a hurry. She says the web catches what you dream and holds it until morning, and that the moons on the frame are for the nights you need to see clearly. You laugh at her. Then at two in the morning, when the boiler knocks and the streetlamp hums, you find yourself standing at the window with the web in your hands, tracing the red star in its centre with one fingertip.

By March the feathers have gone stiff with rain and the bus has stopped running altogether. You walk to the riverside instead, past shuttered shops and a cinema showing one film only, and sit on the wall where the water has finally gone down. The moon hangs over the bridge, thin as a fingernail. You unpick the feathers from the ring, one knot at a time, and let the current take them. Mrs Okonedo was wrong about the web. It never held anything. It only showed you where the light was coming from.