Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Bare branches and pine forest on a forearm
Blackwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
Three stacked photographs show a forearm tattoo of bare tree branches, small birds in flight and dense conifer silhouettes that fade into a solid black band around the wrist. The linework is fine and branching in the upper section, while the pines are built from dense black fill with dotted stippling at the edges. The image is entirely black and grey on pale skin, with a plain grey background that keeps the focus on the design.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The birches came down the week before the new fence went up, and Mrs Tennant stood at the kitchen window with her tea going cold while the men dragged the last limbs across the lawn. 'Leave the stumps,' she said. 'The rooks will want something to sit on.'
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I was fourteen that spring and paid two shillings a Saturday to dig holes along the north wall. She had a tin of Scots pine seed posted up from Speyside, rattling like dried peas, and she made me plant every one of them in a line at the foot of the wall, a hand's width apart, with a slate marker at each end. 'They take their time,' she said. 'Don't you be in a hurry for them either.'
The elms she kept. Their branches stayed bare all year and looked, against the grey afternoons, as if someone had drawn them in biro and then forgotten the page. The pines did nothing for three summers, and then all at once they were taller than the wall, dark and feathered, and the lawn ended in a black band of needles that swallowed the light coming over the top.
She died in March, in the front room, with the window open a crack. I went up to the wood on the Sunday with the key she had given me. The rooks were already back in the elms, lifting and settling, and the pines had grown into one solid shape against the sky. I stood under the first tree and listened. Somewhere in the dark a bird I could not see was calling the others down, so I left the gate open behind me for them to follow.
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