Black ink lace-style mandala tattoo with petal shapes and hanging drops on the ankle and top of the foot.

Black lace mandala tattoo on the ankle

Dotwork · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A large ornamental design of petals, lace-like scrollwork and dotted beads sits on the ankle and top of the foot, with teardrop shapes hanging from the lower edge. The linework is bold and fine, and the beads and shading are built up with dots and soft greys. The design is in black ink on pale skin, centred on the ankle and filling most of the frame.

Dotwork Blackwork Ankle Lace Mandala Ornament Petal Bead Drop Scrollwork

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The pattern came to Hester Vane on a Tuesday, pricked into a scrap of card by a man who would not give his name. He said it was a lace to be made to his measure, and she laughed at him until she saw the design. It opened at the base like a pointed arch, scalloped and dotted, with seven petals folded inside a net of fine ground. From its lower edge hung a fringe of drops, each one weighted the way a bobbin is weighted, so the whole piece would swing if you lifted it by the top.

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She worked it through the winter at the kitchen table, with the window fogged and the pins standing in their rows on the cushion. Each bead was a tight knot of thread no bigger than a lentil, and she counted them aloud so the cat would not wander into the bobbins. Down on the quay the boats went out and came in. The women at the net sheds said the herring were thin that year and the Mercy had not been seen since the blow. Hester kept her eyes on the pattern. Some stitches cannot be hurried.

When the last drop was finished she wrapped the lace in tissue and walked it down to the harbour, expecting the stranger to be waiting. He was not. A boy from the Mercy sat on a bollard, soaked to the elbows, mending a torn net with his teeth. He said the captain had sent him for the lace. Hester asked how the captain could know of it. The boy looked at the parcel for a long moment and said, "We saw the pattern on the water, missus, the night we were lost."

She unfolded it there on the stones. The wind caught the drops and set them ringing against each other, small and bright. The boy tied the lace to the Mercy's bow, and when the tide turned she came in under it. Hester went home with the pricking card in her apron pocket. It had one more hole in it than when she left, and she had not made it.