Birds in flight and faith script on a forearm
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A forearm tattoo of a flock of birds rising from the wrist towards the elbow, with the word faith in cursive script beside them. The birds have fine outlines and dark grey shading, and the script is drawn in a slim, flowing line. The arm rests on a knitted jumper with a gold foil panel behind it, which keeps the focus on the ink.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The starlings came down on Tanner's Row the week the new bridge was finished, and nobody in Wenlow could agree whether they were a sign or just a nuisance. Mrs Hobday swept them off her step with a yard broom three mornings running. On the fourth she stopped, leaning on the handle, and watched them lift off the slate roofs all together, as if someone had shouted a word none of the rest of us could hear.
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Her grandson Ivor had been talking about the Tuesday train since Easter. He was nineteen, had a suitcase packed under the stairs, and a letter from a shipyard in Hull that he kept folded inside his cap. His mother said faith was what a body had when it had nothing else, and Ivor said that was a fine thing to say to someone who had the price of a ticket in his pocket.
On the Monday night he went down to the station with a stub of chalk and wrote the word on the platform wall, slanting it the way his grandmother slanted her shopping lists. He could not have said why. In the morning the stationmaster, Albert Pyle, stood looking at it with his hands behind his back. Beneath it someone had chalked a row of small birds, badly drawn, all heading east.
Ivor caught the Tuesday train with the suitcase and the letter. Mrs Hobday never painted over the word, though the rain took most of it by August, and the starlings did not come back to Tanner's Row. Every spring she swore she saw them over the water, lifting all together, and when people asked what she was looking at she only said that somebody in Wenlow had gone and got on with it.
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