Two small solid black lightning bolt tattoos, one on an upper thigh above mint underwear and one on a hip, with hands wearing rings resting on the skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two small lightning bolt tattoos on hip and thigh

Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

Two small solid black lightning bolt tattoos sit on bare skin, one on the upper thigh above mint striped underwear and the other on the hip or lower abdomen. The bolts are simple filled shapes with crisp edges and no shading or colour. Hands with rings and painted nails rest on the skin, and patterned fabric fills the background.

Thigh Other Lightning bolt Hand Ring

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The storm came over Mardle Fell the week our father died, and the two of us climbed the wall with a tin of Woodbines and a pair of borrowed pliers, because Ada swore the wind would take the chapel roof off if we didn't pin the lightning down. She was fourteen and I was eleven, and neither of us believed in anything except the sense you get from being cold for a long time.

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We waited on the top stone while the sky went the colour of a bruise. When the first crack came it lit the whole valley white: the sheep, the drystone walls, the river like a dropped knife. Ada laughed and shouted at it to come down and be useful. It did. It struck the iron gate forty yards off and ran down the wire in a zigzag that left our hands humming for a day.

Nobody in Mardle believed us, so Ada took to marking the story on us instead, a bolt inked from the tinker's kit, one for her and one for me, so that whenever the weather turned we'd feel the prickle and know who we were. The gate is still there, rusted in the shape of that strike, and the chapel roof is still on.

The last time I saw her she was on a ferry out of Hull, pressing her palm to the rail. When the wind got up she pointed at my hip and mouthed one word, and I knew she meant I was still holding the current for both of us.