Two small fine line snowflake tattoos in pale ink on the inner wrist of a raised hand with black nail polish.

Two small snowflakes on the wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two small snowflake tattoos sit on the inner wrist, one slightly larger and placed above and to the left of the other. The linework is thin and delicate, with branched arms and a small central detail. The ink reads as a pale, almost white tone against the skin, and the dark background keeps the focus on the wrist and hand.

Fine line Forearm Snowflake Ring Hand

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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

The flakes come down slower when the air is still, Mabel, and I have learned to wait for those. Last night I laid a square of black velvet on the sill of the observation hut at Scarrow Top and held it out of the window until my fingers stopped feeling like fingers. Most of what landed was grit and rime, but at a quarter past three two flakes settled side by side, one a little larger than the other and set just above and to the left, and they stayed long enough for me to breathe on the velvet, step back and look.

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I drew them by the lamp with a silver pencil, because ink would have run in the cold and a graphite line would have smudged. Each arm was branched like a fern frond, and at the heart of the larger one there was a small hard star, the only part that did not look like frost. I worked until the lamp oil was low and my hand had no more patience in it, then put the velvet on the table and went out to see the snow lying on the wall, untouched.

Mr Pryce from the mill came up this morning wanting drawings for his almanac, and I showed him the pair. He said a flake that size could never hold its shape across a whole night, and I said it had held its shape across the time it took me to find my pencil, which was enough for anything worth drawing. He did not argue. He only asked whether the small one was lonely, and I said I had not thought to ask it.

The drawings are pinned above the stove now, where the warmth will get at them, and I know they will fade. I had the velvet folded away before the kettle boiled, and by then both flakes had gone, leaving only the black cloth, which is the one thing I have never managed to draw.