Fine line black script reading Believe, looped within an infinity symbol with a small cross hanging from it, on the inner wrist, next to an orange wristband.

Believe script and cross on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph of a small black tattoo on the inner wrist, showing the word Believe in cursive script inside an infinity loop. A thin line runs from the loop to a small cross, which hangs off the lower right of the design like a rosary cross. The ink is solid black with fine, even linework, and an orange silicone wristband sits just below the tattoo against the skin.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Believe Script Infinity Cross Rosary

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The bread had risen twice before Terry Bannister came down the companionway with his oilskins streaming, asking whether the skipper had said anything about turning for home. Mae Cowell pressed her knuckles into the dough and told him the skipper had said nothing, which was the same as yes, and the boy should go back up before the wheelhouse noticed he'd gone.

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He didn't go. He sat on the bench under the porthole and turned a thing over in his hands, and Mae saw it was a length of old cord knotted into a figure of eight, with a small silver cross sliding down one side. Ada's, he said. His nan's. She'd told him it would keep him from going over the side. Mae said she doubted a bit of cord would do much against a North Sea swell, but she had kept a cross in the flour tin for twenty-two years and had not yet been drowned, so what did she know.

The trawler lurched and the pans slid across the stove. Terry steadied the cord against the table leg and tried to explain that he didn't pray, not really, he only liked the word he'd had put on his wrist, so he could see it when he was hauling. Believe, Mae said. Not a bad thing to carry on the inside of your arm when the net came up heavy.

When the loaf came out, dark and hollow-sounding, she cut the first slice and pressed it into his hand without asking. Above them the wheelhouse bell rang twice, then a third time, and the boy was on his feet before she could tell him the sea had finished its tantrums for now. He left the cord on the bench. Mae hung it on the hook beside the kettle, where the loop caught the lamp and the little cross turned slowly until the boat steadied and it stopped.