Close view of a leg in black strappy heels and a gold chain anklet, showing a black tribal blackwork tattoo wrapping around the ankle and up the calf.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Black tribal tattoo on an ankle and calf

Blackwork · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

Two bare legs are shown with black strappy stiletto heels and gold chain anklets with round medallions, standing on a light wooden floor. A black tribal-style design with bold, sweeping shapes and solid fills wraps around the ankle and runs up the lower leg of the foreground leg. The image is taken from above at an angle and is in full colour, with the tattoo appearing in black ink only.

Blackwork Ankle Calf Tribal Leg Anklet Medallion

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Okafor had the lion on the counter before the kettle boiled, turning its gilt head toward the window so the February light could find the mane. Tomas watched her thumb the links of the chain, counting them the way his grandfather used to count change, and he knew she was deciding whether the thing was worth more as metal or as a warning.

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"Twelve carats, the stamp says," she said. "Somebody paid for the lion, not the chain."

He said nothing. The chain had come in a carrier bag from a flat above the chippy on Mill Road, handed over by a woman who spoke very fast and left before he could ask her name. Her shoes had clicked on the stairs like a clock being wound. Tomas had thought, at the time, that anyone who ran in heels that high was either late or leaving.

Mrs Okafor weighed the anklet on her brass scales, frowned, and then did something she had not done in thirty years behind that counter. She pushed it back across the glass. "Take it to the woman who wanted it," she said. "Lions don't like being sold twice."

He walked the length of Mill Road with the chain looped over two fingers, past the launderette and the bus shelter with its torn timetable, and climbed the stairs he had climbed a week earlier. The door stood open. He set the lion down on the landing, on floorboards polished to dark honey, and turned it so its face looked down the stairs, the way it had looked at the pawnshop window.