Drawing of a green-faced witch in a wide-brimmed pointed hat, framed by leafy branches, presented as a tattoo design.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Witch in a pointed hat with branches

Mixed · Flash

A stylised witch with closed eyes, red lips and a green-tinted face, wearing a wide-brimmed pointed hat shaded with dense dark stippling. Long dark hair falls around her shoulders and thin branches with small leaves frame her head and sides. The linework is fine and the hat and hair are shaded in black and grey, while the face and lips are coloured in green and red on a pale background.

Witch Branches Leaves Long hair Face Stippling

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hat had to be turned sideways to clear the lych-gate, and Hester Vane muttered about it the length of the churchyard path. Behind her the wedding party was already spilling across the lawn with trays of warm cider. She carried a bundle of hazel and blackthorn under one arm, cut that morning from the hedge behind her cottage, because the bride's grandmother had asked for something green for the arch and had been very firm that it should not come from a florist.

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The groom's mother met her at the vestry door with a clipboard. "The branches are lovely," she said, not looking at them. "Only, could they be a little less wild?" Hester glanced at the bundle, where two pale shoots had already unfurled in the warm air. "They'll settle," she said. "Most things do, once they've decided where they're going."

She wove the blackthorn through the arch herself while the vicar fussed over the register. Her fingers were stained green to the knuckle, and when the bride came out in cream silk, laughing at something her sister had said, the old woman's eyes closed for a moment as though she were listening to a bell a long way off. Hester did not mention that the hazel had rooted in the damp soil at the arch's base overnight, or that the groom's mother's hat had slipped from her head and now sat on the wall with a sprig caught in its ribbon.

By dusk the arch was thick with leaves, and the bride had a green smudge on her hem she refused to brush away. Hester sat on the lych-gate step with her hat in her lap, watching the lanterns come on one by one. The groom's mother walked past, stopped at the gate, and touched a leaf. "Mine was blackthorn too, once," she said quietly. Hester nodded and put her hat back on. It fitted a little better than it had before.