Black fine line tattoo of a UFO above mountains and pine trees, with the words The truth is out there, on the back of a lower leg.

UFO, mountains and pines on a calf

Fine line · Calf · Black and grey · Photo

A single-colour tattoo on the back of a lower leg shows a flying saucer with a beam of light above a row of mountains and pine trees. The words THE TRUTH IS sit above the design and OUT THERE below it, set in a clean hand-drawn lettering. The black linework is even and the design is centred on the leg against a plain, pale background.

Fine line Calf Ufo Flying saucer Mountain Pine tree Lettering Text Star

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Put another log on, and mind the sparks, because I am not climbing that ridge in my slippers again. You want the story or you want to sit there looking clever? Good. Then listen. Forty years I kept the lookout on Hollin Fell, and in all that time the only light I ever wrote in the book was the one from the August the plantation burned on the far side.

Keep reading

It was past two in the morning and the pines were ticking the way they do when the day's heat leaves them. I had the glass on the dark, and the cloud sat low over Carrick Moss, so at first I saw nothing but the red eye of the relay mast. Then a light came down out of the sky, not falling, mind, but lowering itself the way a dropped coin settles on a table. It hung above the crest in a cold white cone, and beneath it the trees stood up black and very still, as if someone were counting them.

I wrote it down. Time, bearing, wind nil. Then I did what any sensible woman does and rang the constable, who said he would come up at first light, and who did, with a flask and a ginger biscuit and no interest whatsoever. By the time we reached the top the light had gone, and there was only a ring of flattened bracken, neat as a dinner plate, with one pine cone the size of a fist sitting in the middle of it, warm to the touch.

The constable called it a fox's nest. I kept the cone on my windowsill, and it's there still. Every August I climb up to check the ring, and every August the bracken has grown back in the same shape, and I write the same three words under the date. Out there. That is all the logbook says, and that is all I will say to you, so pass me the kettle.