Two side-by-side photos of red and blue line tattoos on a lower leg, showing a UFO and pyramid with an eye on the left and a cactus with a crescent moon on the right.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

UFO, pyramid and cactus leg tattoos

Calf · Colour · Photo

The left photo shows a UFO with jellyfish-like tendrils, a pyramid with an eye, a crescent moon and small stars, with a partly visible black and grey skull beside them. The right photo shows a tall cactus with a crescent moon and star marks, drawn in red and blue outlines with a slightly offset, layered look. The compositions are simple and centred on the lower leg, with the designs set against plain skin.

Calf Ufo Pyramid Eye Skull Cactus Crescent moon Star

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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

You are holding the paint pot steady while Old Mr Ferrier shows you how to split a line. "Red on the left, blue on the right, a hair apart," he says, tapping the sketch of the pyramid pinned to the van door. "Eyes don't trust anything that sits flat. Make it wobble and the lads will pay a shilling to watch it stop."

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The fair runs from Hull to Carlisle and back again, the dodgems creaking, the generator coughing through the wet nights. Your job is the sky. You paint the crescent moons on the ride fronts and the little red and blue stars that spark off the canvas when the lamps are lit. The Desert Tent holds the big banner, a cactus fourteen feet tall with arms that bend like a man stretching after a long shift. One morning you hang it and notice the blue outline has crept a finger's width to the right, and somebody has picked out the stars in a red you never mixed.

Ferrier says nobody touched it. He pulls the shutter down and the tent smells of paraffin and damp canvas. He hands you the cardboard glasses from the ticket booth, one red lens, one blue, and tells you to look at the saucer. Through them the UFO hangs over the pyramid, its tendrils lowering toward the eye like a cold hand deciding something. "Your job isn't to fix it," he says. "Your job is to keep it moving."

At dawn the lorries roll out of the field. You look back through the rear window and see the banner rolled tight on the flatbed, but above the trampled grass one star hangs on in the empty air, the size of a thumbprint, flickering red and then blue. You don't mention it to anyone. You suspect it is already on its way to the next town.