Black and grey realism tattoo of roses, winged figures and script lettering across a man's upper arm, shoulder, back and ribs.

Black and grey roses and script on back and arm

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A shirtless man crouches against a rough wall, showing black and grey tattoos on his upper arm, shoulder, back and side. The design includes roses, winged figures and a script word, with soft shading and fine linework in the flourishes. The background is muted and the image is well lit, with the tattoo as the clear focus.

Realism Lettering Upper arm Shoulder Back Ribs Rose Angel Wing Script Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

They said the roses on the spoil heap above Cwm Glas were the only thing in the valley that grew without being asked. Every spring they pushed through the grey shale in dark red clusters, and every spring a night man swore he had seen a winged shape standing over the old Number Two shaft, its wings folded close like a coat against the rain. The overman's wife would not let her boy pull them up, and nobody argued with her.

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When the roof gave at Number Two in the winter of the long frost, eleven men were under the fall. Idris Pryce, who was twelve and had no business near the cage, went down the ladder with a candle stub and a heel of bread in his coat. The dust was thick enough to chew. He called his father's name until his throat bled, then stopped, because a voice in the dark told him kindly to save his breath for the walk back.

The shape at the bottom of the roadway had wings of soot and grey feathering, and its face was turned away as if it were ashamed to be seen working. It held a card, and on the card was a word in fine looping script that Idris could not read because the candle kept guttering. 'Say who you have come for,' it said. He said Tomos, his father's name, and the wings lifted, the rock groaned, and a path opened through the stone like a ribbon being untied.

They brought the men out at dawn, ten of them, blinking and coughing. Tomos had a split lip and a grin. Idris asked what the word on the card had said, and his father said he had seen no card, only roses, red as cuts, growing out of the rubble where a man in a dark coat had been standing. The following spring the heap was covered in them, and nobody in Cwm Glas has pulled one up since.