Fine line black tattoo of two small birds in flight on the inner forearm, with a woman resting her hand against her chin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two small birds on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows two small black birds in flight on the inner forearm, near the wrist. The linework is fine and delicate, with simple silhouettes and no shading. The tattoo is the only colour detail against pale skin, and the soft, dark hair and red top sit in the background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The frost had kept the top field hard since Tuesday, so Dad sent me out with the feed bucket and a torch that only worked if I held it at a slant. The ewes heard the bucket before they saw me and came bunching up the slope like a bad-tempered crowd at a bus stop.

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Two jackdaws were sitting on the gatepost when I reached the wall. They had wintered in the barn roof for as long as I could remember, squabbling over the same gap in the slates, and I had never once seen them apart. When I rattled the scoop against the tin, they lifted off together, not quite in step, then levelled out over the bottom field and banked towards the church wood. I stood with the bucket and watched until the dark swallowed the grey of their wings.

Dad was in the kitchen with the estate agent's letter spread flat under the teapot. The offer on the lower acres was better than he'd hoped and worse than he needed, and he had been reading it the way you'd read a hymn you no longer believed. 'They'll put houses where the orchard was,' he said, not looking up. 'Your mum would have hated that.'

I told him about the jackdaws. He shrugged, the way he did when something was too sad to argue with. 'They went off as a pair, though. Didn't look like they were leaving anything behind.' He didn't answer, but he folded the letter in half, then in half again, and put it in the drawer with the string and the spare keys. In the morning there was frost on the windscreen and a single black bird on the gatepost, watching the road. I walked out to meet it, and when it didn't fly, I left the bucket on the wall and went in to tell Dad I would rather stay.

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