Two black line tattoos of cartoon characters on the backs of a person's lower legs, one standing and one seated, in a fine line style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two cartoon characters on the backs of the calves

Fine line · Calf · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows the backs of a person's lower legs, with two black line tattoos of cartoon characters. On the left leg a spiky-haired boy stands beside a striped tiger-like figure with wheels, and on the right leg a smaller boy sits with his legs stretched out. The linework is clean and uniform with no shading, and the plain light background keeps the focus on the skin.

Fine line Calf Cartoon Tiger Comic character Wheel

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody in Tolley Bottom believed the tiger had built the cart himself, least of all Mrs Abernethy, who watched the pair of them haul two pram wheels and a bent plank up Sheep Lane on a wet Tuesday. Ferdie insisted it was Brassic's idea. Brassic only yawned and rolled onto his back, which, as Ferdie had learned over the years, meant yes.

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They tested it the following Sunday. The hill ran straight down past the chapel and the allotments and finished at the bakery door, which Mr Coyle kept propped open for the cooling air. Ferdie sat at the back with his trainers pressed flat to the boards. Brassic stood at the front with his tail hooked over the rail like reins. Halfway down, a crow lifted off the chapel roof, a stone jumped under the left wheel, and the whole contraption left the road altogether.

They landed in a sack of flour outside the bakery, which was soft, and in a tray of cooling Eccles cakes, which was not. Mr Coyle came out with his apron over one arm and looked at the two of them, white as ghosts, for a long time. Then he fetched two buns, sat down on the step, and asked them to explain the wheels, which Ferdie did, at length, while Brassic licked sugar from his paws.

That evening Ferdie pulled the cart back up Sheep Lane alone, because Brassic had decided the view from the top was overrated and stayed behind for a crust. At the crest he sat down in the cool grass with his legs stretched out in front of him. He counted the stripes on his own jumper, eleven of them, and he was fairly sure that meant something, though he could not have said what.