Traditional colour tattoo on a thigh showing a seated woman at a vanity, a horned demon in the mirror, and the quote 'What is this that stands before me' arched above.

Woman at a mirror with demon reflection

Traditional · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A seated woman in a long dark dress sits at a wooden vanity beside a book with a red pentagram, a small vase of flowers on the table. In the arched mirror she is reflected alongside a shadowy horned demon with clawed hands and orange eyes. Bold black outlines and flat fills in red, orange, blue and grey sit within a black lettered quote above.

Traditional Thigh Woman Mirror Demon Pentagram Book Flower Quote

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dearest Hester, you will think me mad if I tell you the whole of it, so I shall tell you the sensible half and trust you to guess the rest. The vanity Mrs Abney had carried up from the cellar on Tuesday is still standing in my room at Marsh Street Lodgings, and I have sat before it every night since, with Father's old book open beside the candle because the light is better there.

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The glass is older than the house. It has gone grey at the edges like a pond in March, and when I lean in I see myself as I am: pale, tired, my hair coming down from its pins. On Thursday there was something standing behind my shoulder. It had horns like a stag's, cut short, and hands with too many joints, and eyes the colour of the lamp flame. I did not turn round. I have read enough of the book to know the thing wants you to look.

The nine-forty goes through the cutting below my window, and each time it passes the mirror shivers and the creature leans nearer the glass, as though it were listening for the whistle. Mrs Abney says the cellar was damp and the glass has been wet, and that is all there is to it. She says the pentagram on the cover is only a binding, the way a stationer might press a seal into wax. I have stopped arguing with her. She no longer looks at the vanity when she brings my tea.

I have a ticket for the morning train to you, third class, which is all I can afford after the lodging. Do not write back to Marsh Street. Meet me on the platform and bring the spare key to your study, and we shall decide together what to do with a looking glass that has learnt to keep a second face. I will bring the book, though I do not like to carry it. It is the only thing in that room that has never once looked at me.