Colour tattoo of a purple witch hat on a broomstick with a pink star and teal stippled dotwork background, on a limb.

Witch hat and broomstick with stippled background

Neo-trad · Other · Colour · Photo

A large purple witch hat with black shading and a pink four-pointed star sits on a wooden broomstick. Bold black outlines define the hat and broom, with soft gradients in the purple and a dark grey rod crossing behind. A dense teal and peach stippled dotwork halo surrounds the motif, which fills most of the frame.

Neo-trad Dotwork Other Star Stipple

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

By three in the morning the lost property cupboard on the children's ward has given up everything except one thing nobody will claim. You find the witch hat wedged behind a box of unmatched slippers, its purple gone soft at the brim from handling, a paper star pinned to its point. Sister Okonedo says it belonged to a boy discharged on Tuesday, and that if it is still here on Friday it goes in the bin. She says this kindly enough, while the kettle at the station clicks off and the lift down the corridor sighs open for nobody.

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You try the hat on in the dark corridor beside the sluice. It sits on your head like a tea cosy. Behind the fire doors, where the porters park the trolleys, you find the broomstick leaning against the wall with its bristles fanned out like a tired bird's tail. The stripe near the handle is still faintly gold under the emergency light. You tell yourself you are only checking it is safe to move.

From bay four a small voice asks whether the witch has come to take the night away. You take the hat off, crouch by the bed rail, and explain that the broom is out by the fire doors and needs a pilot who can see in the dark. She asks if you will fly it. You say you have drip rounds first, and that the broom will wait, because brooms are patient things and pilots must keep their promises.

At six, when the windows turn the colour of weak tea, you hang the hat on the end of her bed rail with the star pointing at the glass. Sister Okonedo passes with a clipboard and sees it there and says nothing at all, which on a night shift is as good as a signature.