Traditional style flash design of a woman in a red headscarf at a Ouija board, with black shadow hands and wolf silhouettes around her.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Woman at a Ouija board flash

Traditional · Mixed · Flash

A flash design of a woman in a red and yellow headscarf and pearl necklace, seated behind a Ouija board with her hands resting on a planchette. Bold black outlines and solid black shadow shapes sit alongside grey shading, with wolf heads and reaching hands in the background. Yellow lightning bursts and small red accents add colour to the otherwise black and grey composition.

Traditional Woman Wolf Lightning Headscarf Pearl

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit still and mind the board, love, because it doesn't like being jostled. Your great-aunt Vera had the one from the pier pavilion in Morecambe, the proper Ouija with a moon and a sun painted on the corners, and every Saturday in the summer of 1938 she sat behind it in her red headscarf and took sixpence off the wives who wanted to know where their men had got to.

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The men were all at sea or in Flanders or in the pub, and the board always told the same story. The planchette slid to YES whenever a widow asked after the dead, and it only ever went to NO when she asked the question she'd really come with. Vera said the wolves on the wall were the ones who'd come in with the dead, shadows of things that had been too close to the water and never got out again. She'd hold her hands above the glass like this, and the shadow hands would reach down from the corners and settle over hers, cold as the sea wall in January.

One October a lad came in soaked through with no coat, and asked for his brother. Vera didn't want his shilling. She put two fingers on the planchette and felt it pull hard toward the letters, spelling out a name she'd never heard, B, R, O, T, H, E, R, in the dust of the board. Then it stopped on NO and would not shift, and the lightning painted round the lamp went quiet, the way the air goes still before a storm breaks.

The lad went out without a word. Vera never sat at that board again. She carried it down to the end of the pier that night and let it go into the dark, and next morning the tide brought it back to the steps, face up, with the planchette sitting dead centre over the word NO. So mind your fingers, love. Some things don't care to be asked twice.