Black and grey illustration of a white rabbit head with playing cards, a monocle, a pocket watch and a red rose on a black background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

White rabbit with playing cards and pocket watch

Mixed · Flash

A stylised white rabbit head is drawn in fine, swirling white linework on a black background, with a monocle over one eye. Playing cards showing hearts, spades, clubs and diamonds sit behind the ears, and a gold chain hangs from the sides. Below, a gold pocket watch, green leaves and a red rose with drips add small areas of colour against the mostly monochrome composition.

Rabbit Playing card Pocket watch Rose Monocle Chain Heart Spade Club Diamond Leaves Drip

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rabbit came through the gap in the yew hedge at ten to four, the way it always did, with its waistcoat buttoned wrong and a pocket watch swinging from one paw. I had been on my knees in the rose beds since breakfast, painting the last of the white Madame Vell blooms with a fine sable brush and a pot of red lacquer the Countess had sent down from London. She wanted the whole border red by Thursday. Nobody argued with the Countess.

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"You're late," I said. "I'm always late," said the rabbit, screwing a monocle into one eye and squinting at my work. "That's rather the point of me." He tapped the watch against the bench. It had no hands, only a white face gone grey at the edges, and he listened to it as if it were telling him something terrible. Behind his ears a fan of playing cards had worked loose from the hedge and was drifting onto the gravel: a heart, a spade, a club, a diamond, each one face-up and beaded with dew.

"The Countess wants the cards counted," he said. "Fifty-two of them, and the watch won't stop until they're all in the box." So we counted them together, one by one, while the lacquer dripped red onto my wrists and onto the stones. When we reached the diamond the watch gave a small click, like a gate latching, and the monocle dropped out of his eye and rolled under the bench.

I crawled after it. When I came up with dirt on my knees the rabbit was gone, and so was the lacquer pot, and in its place a single red rose lay on the bench with the monocle set in its centre like a little moon. Every spring the Countess asks why the border never needs repainting. I tell her the roses have learned to bleed on their own, and I keep the brush in my pocket, just in case the hour comes round again.