Shirtless man with a colour traditional winged emblem and two stars on his chest, with tattooed sleeves on both arms and tattoos across his stomach.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Winged emblem chest piece with full sleeves

Traditional · Chest · Colour · Photo

A shirtless man, cropped at the upper face, shows a large colour tattoo across his chest, arms and abdomen. The centrepiece is a winged emblem with a red and yellow orb, a small flame above it and two white stars in the upper corners. Bold black outlines and solid shading frame the design, and the sleeves and stomach continue it with green, red and yellow tones.

Traditional Chest Shoulder Upper arm Forearm Other Wing Star Flame Emblem Orb Scrollwork Sleeve Abdomen

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lamp-room at Hollin Pit opens at five, and you are first through the door because your father taught you that the first man in gets the dry rag and the good hook. The brass checks hang in rows like coins nobody spends. Outside, the wet slag heap steams under a sky the colour of a bruise going yellow at the edges, and the two morning stars still hang over the winding gear.

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Dafydd Rowe, the deputy, calls you Lamplighter because you can clean a Protector in the time it takes him to find his pipe. The company badge is stitched on every collar in the village: a pair of wings folded round a red and gold ball that the men call the sun in the glass. Your grandmother worked a flame above it on the banner for the Whit walk. Nobody remembers who drew it. The owners wanted eagles. The men wanted something that burned.

The night of the fall in the east drift, the gas turned the flames blue and then low. You walk the gallery with your lamp held out in front of you like a full plate, counting the men by their coughs. When you reach the last one, your flame is the only light that matters, so you keep it steady and say nothing. Rowe comes up the rise on his knees with his cap in his teeth, and his face is grey with relief.

Afterwards you hang your lamp on the hook nearest the door, polish the brass with the good rag, and turn the wick down to a bead. Your father's hook is still empty. In the morning the stars will be out over the gear again, and somebody will be first through the door.