Traditional style black and grey tattoo of a witch in a pointed hat, with a tornado, tree and farmhouse shown within her face, on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Witch with tornado and farmhouse on a forearm

Traditional · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A witch in a tall pointed hat and high-collared cloak is shown in profile, with her face filled by a scene of a tornado, a bare tree and a farmhouse on a flat horizon. The bold black outlines and smooth grey shading give the piece a traditional feel, with small yellow-green accents on the ear area and the collar. The design fills the frame vertically and sits centrally on the skin.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wind had backed round to the west by noon, and Hester Quill could smell rain in the reeds before she saw it. She stood at the tiller of the Mayfly with her coat buttoned to the throat, watching the drain run straight as a rule towards Saltcote Sluice, where the fen went on for ever under a sky the colour of wet slate.

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A dark stalk dropped from the cloud bank and began to walk across the fields. She had seen dust devils before, and the odd waterspout out past the sea wall, but this one was patient, turning slow as a spoon in tea, and it was making for Ash Farm. The house sat on its low rise with one bare elm beside it, the only tall thing for miles, and Tom Aske's wife was pegging sheets in the yard as though the sky were no business of hers.

Hester ran the barge up onto the bank with the engine coughing, threw the rope round the stake, and shouted across the water. Mrs Aske looked up, looked at the funnel, and then, to Hester's astonishment, simply lifted her basket and walked indoors. The cloud came on over the drove, lifting a hayrick like a child's sweet and scattering it across the dyke. Hester kept her eyes on the elm and counted, the way her father had taught her to count thunder.

The funnel lifted off the rise before it reached the house, tilted, and wandered away north over the sugar beet as if it had forgotten what it came for. Rain fell behind it in grey sheets. When the sun broke through an hour later the farmhouse stood whole, sheets dripping on the line, and Hester was already casting off, her hat pulled low against the glare.

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