Black and grey roses and vines on ribs
Realism · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo
The tattoo shows three roses at different stages of bloom, with a closed bud and leaves, linked by curling scrolled vines that run diagonally down the side of the torso. The roses are shaded with soft gradients and fine detail in the petals, while the vines and leaves use darker linework. The ink is entirely black and grey against warm skin, and the composition follows the curve of the ribs from upper left to lower right.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The lift is broken again, so you climb eleven floors with a carrier bag of compost and a cutting wrapped in damp newspaper. Mrs Okafor on the ninth landing says the caretaker will come on Tuesday, which you know means never. Your balcony looks onto the car park and the bins, but the railing is iron and sound, and that is where the cutting goes.
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Nan's rose came from a garden in Bermondsey, a bush she kept alive through three landlords. She said roses only sulk when you move them, so you don't fuss. You tie the stem to the railing with green garden wire and pinch out the tip. By June there are three blooms at different stages: one tight as a fist, one half open like a letter someone hasn't finished reading, and one fully spread and browning at the edges. A bud sits between them, stubborn.
The vine gets ideas. It curls around the upright bars, feeling for gaps, and by August it has crossed to the neighbour's railing, where a boy called Dez has been feeding it sugar water with a teaspoon. Nobody asked either of you. In September the council letter arrives: the block comes down in the spring, and rehousing will be by ballot.
On the last evening you cut the fullest rose and leave the rest tied to the iron for whoever comes next. The bud never opens. You stand the bloom in a jam jar on the windowsill of the new flat, facing east, and it is still there, drying slowly, when the van pulls away.
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