Black and white traditional-style flash sheet of sixteen designs, including playing cards, a dagger, dice, pizza, a skull with an eight ball, cobwebs, a coffin and a tombstone.

Black and white flash sheet with skulls and cards

Traditional · Black and grey · Flash

A flash sheet of sixteen separate black line drawings on a white background, photographed at an angle on a grey surface. The designs include a can labelled 100K, a bone, a mouth with a cigarette, cobwebs, three playing cards with a hand holding a heart, a dagger through a barber-pole style skull, dice, a shot glass, a slice of pizza, a skull with an eight ball, a hooded skull, a coffin with a dollar sign, and a tombstone with a dollar sign. The linework is bold and even, with solid black fills and small sparkle marks between the motifs, and there is no colour.

Traditional Bone Lip Playing card Dagger Skull Dice Pizza Coffin Tombstone Dollar sign Cigarette Money

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mags Pellow had been losing at cards since Tuesday, and by Thursday the back room of the Anchor smelled of wet coats and cheap lager. Across the table, Dennis Vane turned over a king, set a heart on it with the flat of his thumb, and slid the pot toward himself without looking up. "Your deal, Mags," he said. "Or do you want to fold and go home to the cat?"

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She had no cat. She had her late husband's pocket watch, a dagger her grandfather brought back from Gibraltar, and a debt she had been hiding under a tea towel for eleven months. The watch was worth more than the debt on paper. The dagger was worth more to her than either, which was exactly why she put the watch on the table instead.

Dennis laughed, a sound like gravel rolling in a bucket, and dealt. The harbour lamps came on outside the window one by one, doubled in the wet cobbles, and down by the slipway a gull was working at a bag of chips. Mags picked up her hand: a one, a queen, a king. Nothing to bluff with, so she reached into her apron pocket for the pair of dice she had been rolling under the table all night for luck.

She tipped them out on the felt. Two sixes. Dennis stopped smiling. She scooped up the pot and the watch, left him the empty glass and the sour look, and walked out into the cold past the bench where the drunks slept under a sign advertising dried fish. Behind her, the lamp over the door flickered once, as if the harbour itself had decided the game was hers.