Vampire queen portrait on a upper arm
Blackwork · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo
A solid black oval frames a woman with long hair falling across her eyes, a banner across her face bearing the words Save the Vampire Queen, and a open mouth showing fangs. The design uses bold black fills with fine white linework for the hair and outline, and a small red-tinted detail near the chin. An anchor tattoo sits lower in the frame, and the photograph is taken close up on the arm against a pale background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Nobody on the ward believed the old porter when he said the queen came up in the lift at three. Night staff at St Winifred's had heard stranger, and the lift had been making noises since the floods. But Maureen on the stroke unit kept a bag of salt in her pocket and a pair of scissors tied to her belt, and she did not laugh.
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The queen came for the blood bank, the way they always had. She did not want the patients. She wanted the bags in the cold store, and after every visit she left a strand of hair on the shelf, black as tar, the way a cat leaves fur on a blanket. Someone had started calling her the Vampire Queen, and someone else had painted it on a banner and hung it over the nurses' desk as a joke. The banner read SAVE THE VAMPIRE QUEEN in letters cut from card, and the joke was that the staff had started to mean it.
Maureen went down to the cold store at four with the scissors open. The queen was there, hair falling across her eyes, mouth open on a yawn full of teeth. She looked tired rather than wicked. "You've had enough," Maureen said. The queen laughed, a sound like a drawer of cutlery being shaken, and Maureen brushed the hair from her eyes and wound it round her wrist. Then she handed over a flask of cold tea and said the cold store would be locked from now on, and the queen could have the sandwiches in the staff room instead.
By dawn the banner had been taken down and the blood bags were counted to the last one. Nobody wrote it up. But the hair was still in the store cupboard, coiled like wire, and the day porter swore the lift never again stopped at three.
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