Close photo of a fine line black script tattoo reading believe along the side of a hand, with a gold ring on the ring finger.

Believe script on a hand

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A hand is held up against an indoor background, showing the word believe tattooed in thin, cursive black script along the side of the hand near the index finger. The linework is delicate and even, with no visible shading or added colour. The word sits diagonally across the frame, with a gold ring on the ring finger and blue-grey nail polish in the foreground.

Fine line Lettering Hand Believe Word Script Hand

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tom, the cut froze overnight so thick that Dad had to break the ice off the bow with the boat hook, and I thought of you the whole time, whistling at the lock gates the way you always did to annoy him. The Wren is still the Wren, though the paint has come off the name like skin off a scald. We are at Hatton Bottom with a load of coal for the mill and nobody to hand the windlass to but me.

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Mrs Akers at the top lock says the Admiralty men came asking after the Harriet, the collier that went down off Gravesend last winter. She showed them your last letter, the one with the pressed clover tucked inside, and they said the postmark was wrong. I told her you were always careless with postmarks and never once careless with words, and she laughed until she had to sit down on a bollard.

Here is what I should have said on the wharf. I am not waiting for you to climb up the bank with your cap in your hand. I have stopped laying out your supper. I am taking the Wren down to the estuary in April on the spring tide, and if the mud gives up the Harriet's bell I will ring it at the mouth of the Medway until somebody hears. Don't tell Dad. He thinks you are dead, and I am tired of being the only one in this family who still believes you are not.

I have written your name at the top of every page of the ship's log since January, in the careful hand you taught me, joining each letter so the pen never lifts. From up here it looks like a river, running on and on without a break. Yours always, Nell. P.S. The little gold ring you left is on my finger now. It is too big. I wear it anyway.