Black and grey Traditional style tattoo of a winged Egyptian-style figure seated on the chest, with wings spread and a feather headdress.

Winged Egyptian figure on the chest

Traditional · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A seated, profile figure in an Egyptian-style headdress with a tall feather sits at the centre of the chest, with large feathered wings spread to either side. The linework is bold and black, with grey shading on the wings, scale-patterned sleeves and a lattice-patterned garment. The tattoo is in black and grey, and two hands with grey nail polish rest on the skin above it.

Traditional Chest Winged figure Egyptian Headdress Feather Wing Scale

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The weighing house stood where the last cottages gave way to beech, and Hanne Corrie had kept its brass scales for thirty winters. Every hive, fleece and sack of acorns went onto the left pan, and the village men argued about what the right pan should hold. Nobody had ever asked what the black feather was for. It hung on a nail above the beam, long and glossy, and it had come out of the forest with the stranger who sat on her threshold one wet March, wings folded like a drying sheet, looking east as if someone were late.

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She fed him bread and he ate it without looking at her. When the reeve came to shut the mill over an unpaid debt, the stranger rose and the wings opened across the yard, scaled at the shoulder like the back of a fish, and the reeve forgot his papers. "Weigh me," the stranger said. "Weigh what you owe against what you have done." Hanne laid the feather on the right pan and piled her own debts on the left: a dead husband's cart, a son gone to the sea, the lie she told about the boundary stones.

The left pan sank and kept sinking until the chain sang and the whole house leaned. Then the feather rose, not lightly, but as though something heavy had been lifted off it. The stranger tucked his wings close, settled his linen headdress and walked back into the beeches without a glance behind.

In the morning the scales hung level and the nail above the beam was bare. Hanne found the feather upright in the bark of a beech at the forest edge, and she left it there. When the reeve asked her what she owed, she told him the truth, and the scales took it without complaint.