Fine line black script tattoo reading believe with an arrow running along the inner forearm, shown on a hand resting on a granite countertop.

Believe script with arrow on inner forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A hand is raised beside the wrist, showing a thin black script word reading believe, with an arrow whose point sits at the top left and whose feathered tail sits at the lower right. The linework is delicate and even, with no shading, and the ink is black on pale skin. The tattoo runs diagonally along the inner forearm against a dark brown and beige granite surface.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Believe Arrow Script Word

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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

You find the word on the inside of the wardrobe door in room nine, cut small with a hatpin: believe, and beneath it a little arrow pointing at the window. Mrs Tully, who has kept Gull Rest for thirty-one years and charges extra for the sea view, says it was there before the paint went on, and that she has never once tried to scrub it off.

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The woman who lodged in nine that autumn came in October with a canvas bag of goose quills and a bow case with a broken string. She spent her mornings on the shingle shooting at an old tin buoy and her evenings at the kitchen table, stripping feathers with a penknife while the wireless hissed. You asked her once what she was aiming at. She said the far side of the water, and that an arrow only needed someone to stand where it was going to land.

In the second week of November the wind came round to the north-east and stayed there. Her chair was empty at breakfast. The window in nine was open, and the bow had gone from its hook. You took the lamp down to the wall at low tide and found the buoy rolled onto its side, one shaft driven through its iron ring, fletched in grey feather, the tail lifting in the wind like a question nobody had asked yet.

You pulled it free and carried it back up the steps, past the register where Mrs Tully kept the names of guests who never came home, and you added a line of your own: room nine, let to nobody, and the date. Then, because your hand would not stop, you wrote the word beneath it and pressed so hard the nib tore the page.