Traditional colour tattoo on a calf showing a UFO beaming up a figure over snowy mountains under a purple starry sky, with the words I want to believe below.

UFO over mountains with I want to believe

Traditional · Calf · Colour · Photo

A flying saucer with yellow lights beams a small dark figure up a green tractor beam against a purple night sky with scattered stars. Snowy mountains sit in a circular frame beneath, and the phrase I want to believe runs across a banner at the bottom. Bold black outlines and flat fills in purple, green, yellow and blue give it a classic traditional look.

Traditional Calf Ufo Alien Mountain Star Night sky Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Our skipper was a man who trusted only what he could weigh at the Lerwick market, so when the lookout called down that there was a light on the ridge, Haldane sent me up the mast to tell him it was a riding lamp on some other boat.

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I went up with the cold coming off the water and the stars so thick over Fenlow that they looked spilled. The mountains stood white against the purple sky, and above the highest peak hung a saucer with a rim of yellow lights, turning slow as a tin plate on a string. I had seen the Dutch trawlers' searchlights a hundred times, but this was different. A column of green light came down from its belly and rested on the snow, and in the column something small and dark was rising, neither hurrying nor fighting it, like a sack of salt being hauled up a hold.

I called down. Haldane did not answer me. When I looked again the beam had thinned to a thread and the saucer had gone, and the only light left on the ridge was the ordinary moon. Back on deck I told him what I had seen, and he listened with his hands in his oilskin pockets, then turned and went below without a word.

In the morning the nets came up full of herring, as if nothing had happened. Haldane wrote the catch in the log, the weather, the fuel, and under the last line he left the space blank, which in twenty-six years of his logbooks was the first gap I had ever seen him leave. We fished those grounds for the rest of the season. Every clear night after, when the lamps were doused and the water went black, somebody on the Marjorie Dunn would look up at the ridge and say they did not believe a word of it, and then all of us would keep looking anyway.